Page 218 of A Kingdom of Wild and Power
His sister lay upon a great leaf the Fae had used as a bier to carry the bodies. She looked almost peaceful, as though she had merely fallen asleep.
It had been so long since he had last seen her.
More than a year ago, when she had left their home with the valkyrian Freya. Countless times since then he had wondered where she might be, what adventures she had found herself tangled in.
And now…
Now he truly was alone.
His entire family was gone.
Yes, he had not seen Eirwen’s body, but what were the chances his youngest brother had survived? The hope that lingered in Bryn’s chest felt fragile, almost foolish.
The truth was far simpler.
He was the last of his name.
The last Wynter.
Something within Bryn finally broke.
He had expected tears, expected to collapse beside his sister’s body and weep until nothing remained of him but grief.
But instead, a terrible coldness settled over him.
It crept quietly through his chest and hollowed him out until nothing remained at all. No sorrow. No anger. Not even despair.
Just emptiness.
Bryn Wynter was done.
Done with the wars. Done with the endless killing. Done with a world that had taken his family piece by piece and left him standing alone among the ruins. For what purpose, he no longer cared to know.
Caldwell had taken the throne in the north.
He could keep it.
Bryn did not want it.
He did not want anything anymore.
Slowly, Bryn rose to his feet and turned away, leaving his sister lying where she was.
Alone.
Forgotten.
It did not matter, did it?
She was dead. She would not feel anything now.
‘We can bury her,’ Alma said gently, her face drawn tight with concern. ‘I know that wolverians bury their dead.’
Bryn gave a small nod and began to walk away.
‘Where are you going?’ the valkyrian asked.
‘With me wolves,’ he replied.
