Page 201 of Fallen Nocturne

I look at my wife. She’s watching the battlefield below with tears streaming down her face. She watches soldiers lift the wounded from the mud and carry them toward the healers. Hands offer water to those who may not survive the night. Even the dead are gathered gently now, their bodies lifted with the kindness denied to them in battle.

Tomorrow, this softhearted queen will step into a circle of ash with a warrior who has spent centuries perfecting the art of killing. Finnbheara is no longer merely a prince. He is the new Fae King who commands an army, a kingdom, and a wyvern feared throughout Avalon.

Rhianelle has none of his skill or experience.

How the fuck is she going to win?

Chapter 29 Svenn

Dorcha lands hard on scorched earth, wings beating dust into the air. Landon drops from the saddle before she’s fully still.

Jessica, the giant spider, lies curled on her side. Several of her legs are bent beneath her. Dark blood seeps from wounds across her pale abdomen.

Landon stops a few feet back. I stay close to Rhianelle.

“Jessica.” Rhianelle rushes forward and drops beside the spider. Golden light blooms between her palms as she presses them against one of Jessica’s wounds.

The spider’s many eyes shift toward her. You don’t have to. It’s all right.

“No.” Rhianelle’s voice breaks. Her magic flares brighter, spreading across Jessica’s body in trembling threads. “I can heal you.”

Save it for something worth saving.

“You are worth saving,” Rhianelle says. She doesn’t stop.

One of Jessica’s eyes swivels toward her. Please look after my children.

Rhianelle’s hands still. She bows her head over Jessica, tears slipping down her cheeks. “I will. I swear.”

Remember your promise.

Jessica’s legs twitch once. Her eyes slowly dim, and the last breath leaves her body in a faint shudder.

“I will keep my promise.” Rhianelle keeps her hands pressed against her long after the healing light has faded.

Around us, the remaining monsters of Astefar gather in silence. Creatures of claw, scale, fang, and shadow stand among the dead, watching Rhianelle grieve for one of their own.

She rises unsteadily and faces the creatures that answered her call and survived. They watch her, waiting.

“I will keep the promise I made,” she says. Her voice carries.

What promise? I wonder.

The monsters lower their heads. One by one, they turn toward the summoning circles, their bodies dissolving into smoke and sparks as they return to the realm from which Rhianelle called them.

Miss Bernadette remains. The enormous bear shifts, bones and fur folding inward until a woman stands before us. Her white dress is torn, and blood runs down one side of her face.

“You needn’t worry about fulfilling that promise for me,” she says, brushing ash from her sleeve. “I already made a deal with someone else.”

Rhianelle goes still for a second. Then she nods and turns away. I catch the shudder that moves through her before she controls it.

“Let’s find Blaire,” she says.

We leave Jessica to search for the Maiden of Arawynn. She’s sitting on the ground near the edge of the battlefield. Her blonde hair hangs limp, matted with ash. She looks up as we approach.

“Rhianelle,” she whispers, and her voice cracks.

My wife drops to her knees beside her friend and pulls her into a fierce embrace.