piece by piece. So I made another bargain with her nephew.”
“The Winter Prince.”
She nods. “I tried to kill Valerian your first year after that changeling sold me his real name. But I underestimated how deep the bond had twisted your mind by then.”
My heart aches as the extent of her betrayal becomes clear. “That was the bargain you made with Hellebore. Destroy Valerian. Bring him to you powerless, without a kingdom or allies, so no one would care when you use him to bring back the Darken.”
I lower my hand with the knife, pressing it behind my back to keep from lunging for her.
How did I never see Hellebore’s real motive? Even if he hated Valerian, he never truly wanted to destroy him.
He wanted vengeance against his aunt.
“We can discuss all of this later, Hyacinth,” my mother says.
She glances impatiently at Hellebore, her hand clutching something—the Worldslayer, the Darken’s axe. The weapon directly responsible for causing the catastrophic event that destroyed our world and turned the darklings. The ornate battle-axe is beautiful, the crescent-shaped blade embossed with a serpentine dragon. A tiny fragment is missing from the tip.
“Now.” She holds out her hand. “Where is my last piece of the axe?”
Without looking at her, Hellebore lifts the necklace, sunlight glinting off the thick, jagged piece of metal. He studies the thing for a moment.
Then he reaches out to hand the axe piece to my mother.
I’m so focused on the exchange that I don’t feel the knife jerk from my hand until it’s too late. Freesia lunges at her brother, the switchblade aimed for his chest.
Almost in slow motion, he turns to her, his eyes widening in shock. Realization takes hold, and I swear deep hurt ripples inside those striking blue eyes, but he doesn’t move to stop her. To defend himself, even though a simple snap of his fingers would disarm her.
The Spring Court guard comes out of nowhere. Steel flashes as the long blade of his sword strikes out. Right before the cruel point pierces Freesia’s abdomen, someone throws themselves in front of Freesia, taking the sword’s lethal blow.
I watch in surreal horror as the guard’s sword emerges from the figure’s back, flicking blood into the air.
Bright red blood.
Mortal blood.
The moment the guard pulls the sword out and the figure crumples to the grass, it’s as if someone hit play on the world again.
Everything happens so fast, and I struggle to keep up.
Guards rush to protect the new king. One of them grabs Freesia, twisting the blade from her hand. Hellebore roars as she cries out in pain, his magic shooting out. The guard’s neck breaks with a horrendous crack.
Freesia breaks free and tries to run but more guards descend, careful this time not to harm her. They drag her away while she screams how much she hates him.
Ripping my gaze from her, I look down at the motionless figure in the grass. Why is Zinnia holding her? Sebastian has his shirt off and is using it to apply pressure.
I know who is injured, but my mind won’t let me admit it. Not as I kneel on the grass beside them. Not as I look into those vibrant, brown eyes the color of coffee.
It’s only as I take Aunt Vi’s hand that I let myself understand what’s happening. “You’re going to be okay, Vi.”
Vi’s long, slender fingers—calloused from years of working the farm—squeeze mine. “You always were so damn optimistic, girl. Like a little ray of sunshine brightening our lives.”
Tears slick Zinnia’s plump cheeks as she brushes her sister’s hair back from her face. “There’s that big ol’ heart you try to hide behind that prickly cage. Now don’t you give up, Violet. You hold on for me and the kids. Just hold on and we’ll fix this.”
My aunt laughs, but it’s soft, nothing like the boisterous, sarcastic laugh I love. “I was gone years ago, Z. Have been since they took my boys, if we’re being honest about it.” Aunt Vi shifts her gaze back to me. “I’m sorry for how cold I was. I was a coward, too scared to love. But I did, Summer. I loved you fiercely.”
A shadow falls over us. I look up to see Hellebore, and my hands curl into protective fists.
Hellebore frowns at Aunt Vi. “Why? Why would you do that? You hate my kind.”
Vi’s eyes are blurry as they struggle to focus on him. “She’s just a girl. Just a girl . . . like our Helen. So full of piss