Palace of Silver (The Nissera Chronicles #3) - Hannah West Page 0,140

giving her permission to do what I could not.

Navara swung her sword point-up and closed her eyes, as if praying for Ambrosine’s soul, or for preemptive forgiveness. Then, without a moment’s hesitation, she reared back and pushed the sword between Ambrosine’s shoulder blades.

I forced myself not to look away as the blade ripped through her, the sharp point jutting out from the wall of her chest.

My strike had ended Nexantius. Navara’s would end my sister, forever.

As Ambrosine caved into the wound, breathing her last breath, I dropped to my knees in the snow and buried my face in my hands.

When I lifted my eyes, I found a smooth landscape of snow reflecting golden sunlight. There were no dead warriors or scattered weapons. No Ambrosine, no Navara.

Instead, a woman in brilliant gold armor stood before me. She had gray-streaked black hair, eyes like liquid gold, and softly glowing skin.

“Hesper?” I asked in disbelief.

“Atrelius,” she answered. “We came as soon as we could.”

“We?”

Another figure stepped into view. Warm tears filled my eyes and spilled over.

Her eyes and hair were the same shade of molten gold, and she wore a fluid dress that looked like it had been knit out of morning sunrays.

“Perennia,” I breathed.

“Perennia is at peace,” the newcomer answered.

“She’s…in the land of light?” I asked.

The golden woman in the gown nodded, her eyes soft. This was Eulippa. I’d called them both down when I had spilled my blood in the clay bowls at the abandoned edifice. “The journey beyond takes time if the bonds of earthly love are strong, and we had to wait for the two pure souls who had died at our altar to cross over. We do not share a body with another soul, or take what is not freely given.”

“Glisette!” Devorian cried from a world away. I felt him shake my shoulders.

I blinked and the vision of Perennia, or Eulippa, was gone, and so was Atrelius.

I collapsed in his arms, weeping. Weeping because Perennia was gone again, and because she was never really here. Weeping that the Holies could not have come sooner. Weeping for Tilmorn because I knew in my heart he had not been able to heal himself rapidly enough survive the attack, and for Mercer, who had only reunited with him months ago.

For Ambrosine, for who she used to be and who she might have been.

FORTY-ONE

GLISETTE

GRIEF hung in the air, sharper than cold and thicker than snow.

Or maybe it only seemed that way to the four of us.

The mortal soldiers celebrated Ambrosine’s defeat. The unused reinforcements were happy to help clear the road, drag the enemy dead to trenches, and care for our wounded soldiers so that those who fought could rest.

Mercer wept while Commander Larsio and Sev prepared Tilmorn’s remains for the pyre. They discouraged us from looking at him until the flames began to consume him. But after seeing Robivoros’s other victims, I had an all-too-clear image in my mind. Devorian, Kadri, and I laid our hands on Mercer and wept alongside him. I cried until I had no more tears.

We held a ceremony for Tilmorn, bidding him farewell. Mercer would return to collect his ashes, but none of us wanted Valory to suffer a moment longer than necessary, Mercer least of all.

I offered him the glowing sword of Atrelius. “Go get her,” I whispered.

He planted a kiss on my brow and materialized to the palace to find the portal box Ambrosine had stolen.

Devorian and I leaned on each other, pressing packs of snow to our wounds.

Word of our victory had spread to Halithenica like a grassfire.

A parade awaited Navara in the streets. Her people tossed garlands in her path and shoved one another aside so that they could touch her boots, or even just a hair of her horse’s tail. She was their divine leader. They would hear the story that she had slain Ambrosine herself, and it was the story they needed to hear.

Navara accepted the praise gracefully, punching her sword high. But I could see the tension between her shoulder blades, the desperation to reach her father.

Once inside the palace, she ran to the Edifice of the Fallen. Kadri, Devorian, and I followed, smashing mirrors to banish any lingering foul magic.

Everyone we encountered looked relieved beyond belief; any willing ally of Ambrosine’s would have fled to escape punishment.

I thought Navara might lead us to some dark underground passage, but instead she ran straight for Ambrosine’s bedchamber, where we encountered Mercer and Valory. Their fingers intertwined, turning white from the