brother and his friends with your beauty and your bumbling ineptitude. It was hilarious. And I finally knew what I needed. It was simple really. One single Brightling Royal can bring this Lanuaet to complete and utter God level power."
I gasped as he released my hair, his hand going instead to my throat before I could drop from his grip. My air was cut off and I struggled, growing weaker and weaker as I fought back. I kicked. I punched. None of it had an effect.
"But..." I tried to gasp, "the execution?"
He laughed again. "I was serious when I said I could foresee parts of the future. I knew those men would come for you and that you would be rescued—all of that talk of watching you dangle and die in front of a crowd? I just wanted to play with you. This was the path that guaranteed me the highest chance of success. Now, here we are, and you will die to serve my purposes." My lips parted, but no more words came. I was out of time and air. "So, thank you, dear little Changeling," Tyr whispered as he leaned down and pressed his lips to my ear. "I know it's been a long journey to get here. All I need now is for you to die."
His hand crushed my throat and the darkness crept in on either side of my vision. Soon, my struggles waned and then stopped altogether. It was no use. He had won and I was about to do exactly as he said.
I was going to die.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Cress
Life. Death. Sex. Love. All of the things you would expect to cross a girl's mind right on the verge of death crossed mine. So did all of the self deprecating questions:
Are you really going to let this happen?
What kind of wuss gets choked out by an evil Fae intent on taking over the world?
Wait, I'm a fucking Princess? Like a real one?
Okay, so that last one didn't really have much to do with the death part so much as it had to do with the life part. I couldn't help but be shocked, though. I mean, who would've thought that I'd be a Princess? Kind of had me wondering why I always imagined Princesses to be these elegant, fragile little flowers who couldn't lift a spoon to their lips if it wasn't pure silver.
The only spoon I'd ever eaten off of was wooden. The only thing flowery about me was my winning personality. And elegance? Definitely not my style. But fragile? Until this moment, I'd never considered myself fragile. I'd nearly died half a dozen times since I'd been led to the Court of Crimson and the Fae. I'd been almost murdered, shoved off a castle wall, chased by an angry mob, attacked by unknown shadow creatures in Alfheim, and glared down by the Queens who had—apparently—ordered the slaughter of my entire Court.
It all sounded like a bedtime story gone horribly wrong.
And yet, Tyr thought that there was some hidden power inside of me that would complete his magical murder orb? No. I could hardly toss a fireball at a bale of hay. There was no hidden talent, no power reserves deep within me. If there was, I would know it … wouldn't I?
It's not inside, a voice suddenly said, but on the outside...
I froze. The voice was familiar and feminine. It sounded like a dream I'd had long ago. No, more recent. It sounded like the woman from my dream in the prison tower. The one who'd been running from something with a man...my mother?
Power is all around you, the voice continued. It's steeped in your skin. In the air you breathe. In the flowers that grow. Call for it and it will come. All you need to do is trust in the Gods and give over to them. They will guide you.
Kind of difficult to take power from breath when I had none, I thought sardonically, but at this point, what was there left to lose? Nothing.
Roan and Sorrell had been knocked out cold. Ash and Nellie frozen in some strange black ice-like crystal. Orion... if I didn't at least try, he would die right along with me. And that, more than anything, made me focus.
All around me, I thought. All around me. I … just … needed … to … breathe …
I cried out as air rushed into me and my eyes shot open. Tyr stood above my prone body, the Lanuaet in