Shadow Cursed by May Sage Page 0,48

I see them. They are my heroes. They are my family.

I never knew I loved them—not until I’m faced with this terrible choice.

My mother will never pick my father, the bondmate for whom she'd given up everything.

It's between Alven and Meda. One of them will die.

"I could try to bring you back? After you're gone." My voice is breaking.

Alven shakes his head. "That isn't how magic works. You can recall a soul that's not been claimed. Ours will be trapped, binding the spell. If you were to undo it, it'd destroy the shield."

I close my eyes.

"To Morgana, I was a tool. A pretty tool she could use. I never had a mother," Ciera said. "Not until you."

She's talking to Meda—probably holding her hand or hugging her. I can't look.

"I always had a father. When I was banished, cast out, and cursed, you risked everything to stand against the high queen and give me a home. I love you both. I'm not strong enough for this."

No one is. No one should be.

"Maybe it doesn't have to be them. Maybe it can be anyone at all?" Nero asks.

"Who, then? Should the queen of Tenebris walk into the hall and choose a random pluck to slaughter? Who would follow me?" Ciera spits bitterly. "Besides, to be a sacrifice it has to be someone I love."

My heart breaks for her. For all of us.

She cannot choose. I know it.

Which means I must.

It will break me, but I must do it all the same.

"I need Meda." Somehow, my voice doesn't break.

Just three words.

Three words, that condemn part of my family.

I clear my throat. "If we live to see another day, I want to go north, to the border between our lands. I intend to get elemental stones from the Old Keep, but it isn't just that. I need Meda because we have to talk to the seelie courts. We have to make them understand that we stand together—our kind against mortals. No matter our differences in the past, if we're to survive when billions of humans come to our doors, it will be together." I lift my chin. "I gave my third-born child to the sea. I'll give anything the seelie demand to seal an alliance between us. Not for today, or tomorrow. So that our kind may live in a thousand years. I don't know anything about the seelie kingdoms. I think they’d shoot me on sight. Meda's from the north. They'll listen to her."

I need Alven to understand—I need them all to understand that this isn't a whim, I'm not picking a preference. I'm trying to keep a broken realm from shattering under our feet.

I haven't opened my eyes at all through the entire speech. When I feel a hand on my shoulder, I do.

My mother stands in front of me, tears in her beautiful eyes falling freely. She's so much taller than me. I've always felt like a child next to her.

Now I don't. She's the child, the one who needs protection.

"You need Meda," she repeats. Her voice has lost its heat. All I hear now is determination. "And you need Alven. My father is a king. He can guide you, advise you, and protect the crown. There was always only one disposable link in this family. I'm sorry I'm not strong enough."

I open my mouth to speak, but then she removes the intricate circlet of gold on top of her head and places it on top of mine.

Though dainty and small, I've never worn anything heavier than her crown.

"My daughter, my heart, Nevlaria of the house of Nyx, I crown you high queen of Tenebris."

I should have expected this. Ciera Oberon Bane was always honest about who she is. Honest, and cruel.

I nod, and lift both of my hands to her chin, gently.

"I forgive you," I tell her through my tears.

Then I suck the life out of her, bit by bit, absorbing her essence, ignoring the shouts and screams of my father, held back by his mother. I keep taking, and taking and taking every exquisite ounce of her power inside me, until she falls at my feet.

Empty. Cold. Dead. Sacrificed.

We bury her in the inner garden. Drusk digs a deep grave, after he comes back with a sniveling human. I suck him too, till he cries, begging for mercy.

Then, I break his neck, and step over him.

The four stones are dropped at the bottom of the well. I start to shovel. My father doesn’t say a word. I don’t say