own designs.
Cinder had gotten a happily-ever-after. I wouldn’t. And that was okay, I decided, as long as Saxon got his. That would be enough for me. And if this was my last life, that was okay, too. I would be a worthy sacrifice for worthy people. Saxon. Pagan. Pyre. Even Everly, Roth. Maybe even Ophelia and Noel. Definitely Dior. My stepsister might have left me behind in the dungeon, but she must have done it to remain close to my father, so that she could help me during the ball. She’d kept him locked in place the entire time, unable to cause any more damage. I’d seen the results of her magic—she’d done it while staring straight at me, just before I’d made the trek to Saxon.
—Your death won’t change anything. I’ll just inhabit another body until you’re born again.—She evinced confidence, but she’d stopped laughing. —Put the blade down, Ashleigh.—
Someone raced past me, stepping on my free hand. I hissed in pain, my body rolling in to protect itself. I maintained my grip on the weapon. Other stampeders followed the first, swarming the area. Someone bumped into me, knocking me to the side. I skidded across the floor before crashing into a group of people, who fell on top of me. Others tripped over us. Different screams blended together. A dragon roared.
More footsteps. I squirmed, wiggled, and crawled my way out from under the pile of bodies. My limbs shook. I threw a glance over my shoulder and caught Saxon knocking someone out of the way. He was stomping toward me, on a war path.
No, no, no. He was almost upon me. Crawling again, crawling faster...
Leonora’s laughter started up again.
“Everly,” he shouted.
Faster... The palace shook, nearly toppling me. Vines shot from the floor, pieces of marble flying about. Those vines latched hold of everyone around me and dragged them to Pagan and Pyre, who were herding the other terrified guests into a corner.
Then, Saxon was beside me. He bound my bloody foot before he scooped me to his chest.
“Put me down. Leonora is—Hold me, darling. I need you to hold me.” I forced myself to let go of the blade. The next thing I knew, I’d wrapped my arms around him, clinging to him as he carried me across the room. I felt the phantom readying her fire magic, intending to burn him alive. Stop, stop. “Saxon, please. Kill me or let me end myself before she uses me to kill you.” New sparks flickered at the ends of my fingers.
The dragons finished their herding mission. Pyre held the majority of guests hostage on one side of the room, while Pagan herded our allies to the opposite side. Roth. Everly. Dior. Ophelia. Noel. As if they sensed my affection for each one.
Raven and Tempest broke free of the masses and sprinted for a door. I knew the magical doorway would lead them right back inside the throne room, but Pagan didn’t. She flew over, landed in front of the avian, and blew a stream of fire directly into their faces.
“My eyes,” Raven screamed.
“I can’t see,” Tempest shouted.
Around them, bodies created a sea of death over the floor. Many of them had burned to death when they’d tried to stop me from reaching Saxon. If we’d been in Fleur, they would have been placed in glass coffins and—
Glass. The Glass Princess. Another portion of my prophecy crystalized. I wasn’t known as the Glass Princess because I might shatter. I was the Glass Princess because I could put a multitude of people into their graves at any time I wished.
Leonora gained even more ground. Flames spread up my arms, but I waged war with the phantom to stop them, fighting with every fiber of my being. “Let me go,” I pleaded. “Before she burns you.”
“Listen to me, love,” Saxon said. He picked up my blade. “If you force her to bond with your body and cut your own connection to it, we can kill her by killing your body. You could be raised with magic. That is the hope. Is that what you want?”
We could kill her, after all? By giving her my body? I would just hand it over on a silver platter? But...that went against every self-preservation instinct I possessed. “I want—” Just before I burst into flames, I unleashed my magic, bonding Saxon with the fire.
As we both caught fire, he remained unharmed.
His brow furrowed. “I don’t understand. My clothes aren’t burning. I feel...powerful.”
For a moment,