Page 162 of Devoured

My father—Officer Rufus Hart, the man who raised me, who braided my hair even though he was terrible at it, who woke me up every morning and told me that every day could be different, could be better—walks off. He grabs a few of his already-compelled companions, and they head out of the castle.

He doesn’t look back once.

But I watch him. I watch the sunlight illuminate the grays in his hair and beard. I memorize the beige of his skin and the roughness of his voice. I memorize his smooth gait and his messy, rolled sleeves.

Because I will never see my father again.

Because, as of now, I don’t have any family left.

I stagger back through the wreckage of the spring equinox, through what’s left of the Mating Rite that can never finish because my future mate is dead, and find Calix, Evie, and Portia escorting the last of the humans out. I sink to the grass, my heart aching, the rot inside me spilling over, seeping through my bones, drenching me in acid.

Sin is dead and my father is gone and I am broken.

I am so, so broken.

Portia, Evie, and Calix return once the injured werewolves have been brought to the infirmary, and then we are alone in the field. Alone with the corpses and the blood and that stupid arch. Gossamer sways in the breeze as if it’s ready for another rite. As if it can’t believe this one went wrong.

Portia sits on my left. Evie sits on my right. But Calix can’t seem to bring himself to look at me, hoisting corpses on his shoulders and carrying them away in aching silence.

“He hates me,” I say once he’s gone.

And he should. His best friend is dead. He thinks I killed him.

“He’ll recover.” Evie leans her head against the wall of the castle. “They’ll all recover.”

She doesn’t tear her gaze from the blood-soaked earth, and neither do I.

“So… we won?” Portia asks, voice shaking. “Am I imagining that? Cora is really dead?”

“Yep.” My own head thuds back against the castle wall, and weariness settles in my bones. I turn my gaze to the sky. “She’s dead, but she took her son with her.”

I cry then.

I allow myself to sob, and Evie and Portia scoot closer. They throw their arms around me. They hug me without reservation, without any care for how vulnerable and delicate this moment is. They hold me like friends. Sisters. Family.

They make me feel less alone. Less broken too.

And then Evie nudges me, tilting my chin so that I’m forced to look up.

Mortal blue has been painted with swaths of sparkling purple—just wisps of it. But enough that the sky appears shimmering, enchanted with stardust once more.

“Magic is returning. This castle will heal, and that is cause to celebrate,” she says. “Castle Severi has been saved. With the faeries’ help, peace might actually be restored.”

I exhale. A hard, ragged sound.

Portia nods as if in agreement, those purple wisps reflected in her wide, golden eyes. “Peace,” she repeats in wonder.

54

Vanessa

I SAY GOODBYE TO SIN AT MIDNIGHT.

When the field has been washed clean of blood, when the fallen werewolves and humans have been moved to hastily erected pyres, when the fires have burned and the smoke has cleared and the horrid scent of char is thick in the air, I open the door to the old Combat and Conquest field. I sneak back outside.

I didn’t attend the funeral rites. I didn’t watch the werewolves grieve loudly, shattering goblets and plates and traditional effigies as they wailed for their loss. It didn’t feel like my place. The entire castle doesn’t feel like my place anymore. It’s only been hours. Ten or eleven hours since the battle. But the halls of Castle Severi echo, and the tiles feel too cold underfoot.

Empty. It’s all just empty without Sin.