Page 194 of Fallen Nocturne

“Uncle,” Rhianelle breathes, pulling away from them and stumbling toward him.

“I’m all right,” Rainer says calmly, but his voice is weak.

Bas crosses the room and lowers himself beside Rainer. He may know nothing of elven medicine, but he spent centuries learning how to treat humans. His hands are steady and his knowledge runs deep.

Rhianelle is crying now, kneeling beside her uncle. “You’re not going to die,” she vows fiercely. “Death told me so.”

Rainer looks at her with the patience he reserves only for her. “See?” he says quietly. “You have nothing to worry about. I’m just tired.”

Rhianelle sits back on her heels. She looks exhausted and hollowed out like the realm of the dead took something from her. But she lifts her head and looks around the room at all of them. Something in her expression firms.

“We need to help our people,” she says. Her voice is rough. “We must stop this war.”

No one argues.

The air in the throne room is heavy. The weight of everything we’ve lost, everything we’ve sacrificed, presses down on all of us.

Landon’s smile fades as he looks toward the broken palace doors and whatever waits beyond them.

“The last hope of stopping this war peacefully disappeared when the Fae King was thrown into another realm,” he says, resigned.

All eyes turn to look at the small figure still present in the corner of the room.

Blight.

The child-god is sitting on the floor, nursing her damaged leg. She looks up when everyone stares at her.

“What?” she says innocently.

“You sent the Fae King into another dimension. He was the only person who could have called off this invasion,” Garrett repeats.

“Well, yeah,” Blight says with a shrug. “But he would not have stopped anything. All he could think about was his mistress.”

The Un turns her strange, ancient eyes on Rhianelle. “Ask Fate if you think I’m lying. Besides, you all wanted him gone anyway. You’re welcome.”

“His son, Prince Finnbheara, will notice his presence has vanished and assume we killed his father,” Rainer says through gritted teeth.

“Finnbheara will retaliate,” Landon continues, and there’s something bleak in his voice. “It doesn’t matter that he hates his father. He’ll kill every elf he can find. The prince won’t stop until he’s avenged his father.”

Silence falls again.

“Aelfheim is lost,” Shade says, his head falling back against the wall.

No one argues because he’s right. Without the Fae King to call off the invasion, without any hope of negotiation, the elven kingdom is finished. I look at Rhianelle, expecting to see despair and the same defeat I see on everyone else’s faces.

But instead, she’s calm.

Rhianelle stands slowly, releasing her uncle’s hands. She wipes the tears from her face and straightens her shoulders.

“Can you get his attention?” she asks, looking at Landon. “Prince Finnbheara’s attention. I want to meet with him.”

The room goes completely still.

“What?” Landon says.

“I want to meet with Prince Finnbheara,” Rhianelle requests again. “Face to face. Can you arrange that?”

Landon stares at her like she’s lost her mind. “Rhianelle. He’ll kill you. The moment he sees you, he’ll—”