“Your betrayal is the worst of all.” The hurt in his silver eyes was painfully genuine. So many years of anguish had brought him to this moment. I wished I could have known him before it was too late.

“I never betrayed you,” I said. “You violated me in unspeakable ways. You hurt my family, you killed innocent people, and you forced a bond between us by feeding me your blood. I had every right to break that bond.”

He was slowly sidestepping north, but we kept pace with him easily. He was trapped, and the only option left to him now was surrender. I didn’t believe he really wanted to hurt Zoi. What could that possibly accomplish?

My eyes flicked briefly past Ceren, to Talin. He was getting closer to his brother while I distracted him. If I could just keep his guard down, Talin might be able to reach Zoi. “I am sorry that you suffered, Ceren. I truly am. But your sister is just as innocent as you were. Perhaps if you tell us what you want, we can come to some kind of an agreement.”

Ceren laughed, and Zoi began to sob quietly. “An agreement? I think we’re past the point of negotiations, Nor. Talia can have the throne, or she can have her daughter. It’s simple.”

“You’ll never have the throne!” Talia screamed. She dug her heels into her mare’s sides, heading straight for Ceren.

Suddenly, with a burst of speed I hadn’t expected, he made for the cliff. I sprinted toward him, hoping to intercept him, but I could see he was going to reach it before I did, despite his weakened state. As he neared the edge, I heard a horse’s sharp whinny behind me.

“Stop!” Talia dismounted and fell to her knees.

Ceren froze, just feet from the cliff’s edge. Zoi was crying at the sight of her mother, struggling with so much force I worried she’d accidentally knock Ceren over the edge. Perhaps she had believed she was calling Ceren’s bluff before, but now, seeing her daughter’s terror, Talia was in tears. “I’m sorry. You can have the throne. You can have the entire bloody kingdom. Just give me my daughter.”

Ceren set Zoi down, but his grip on her arms didn’t soften. “Do you mean it?” His eyes lit up in desperate hope.

“Yes,” Talia cried. “You have my word.”

We all stood breathless, waiting to see what Ceren would do. I didn’t know if I believed Talia myself. I knew her love for her daughter was real, but she could easily tell Ceren anything he wanted to hear right now. There was no way to ensure she would hold up her end of the bargain. Ceren might be armed, but the second he released Zoi, the Galethians could put an arrow straight through his heart. He took a step backward, his lips peeled in a triumphant smile, and I gasped, wondering if there was any chance I could reach Zoi before it was too late.

Then, to my shock, Ceren released her. She ran straight into her mother’s open arms, seemingly uninjured. Mother and daughter rocked together, Talia on her knees, Zoi stretched on tiptoe, and for the first time since I’d met her, I had faith that Talia was not lost to power the way Ceren was, that she could actually help steer this kingdom into a safe harbor.

I had stopped a few yards from Ceren when I thought he might drop Zoi over the cliff, and while everyone’s attention was on the girl, he was looking directly at me. The setting sun behind him was as bright as the gems in his crown, lighting up the sky and Ceren’s hair like flames. Even the water looked scarlet for a moment, an entire ocean of blood.

I slowly stepped closer to Ceren, palms still out to show him I meant no harm. The smile had faded from his lips, as if he knew as well as everyone that he wasn’t capable of running a kingdom anymore. “Come away from the edge, Ceren.”

“I can’t,” he said, his heels edging perilously close to the drop. I couldn’t tell how far it was to the ocean, but there were likely rocks in the water below. A fall from here would most certainly kill him, and while a part of me believed it was the fate he deserved—he had sent other people, including Lady Melina, to eerily similar deaths by throwing them from Mount Ayris—it was also a coward’s death, a way to escape without ever facing the consequences of his actions.

I realized then he had known Talia wasn’t going to give him the throne. She would put him in the dungeon, probably for the rest of his life. He had crimes to answer for, and he was a danger to everyone, including himself. But perhaps just hearing her surrender was enough; maybe he had doubted Talia as much as I had, and in his own bizarre, misguided way, was testing her.

Or maybe he’d wanted to see for himself what a mother’s love was supposed to look like.

He opened his mouth to speak, and foolish as I was, I thought he might apologize for everything he’d done. Maybe, finally, he could acknowledge his mistakes. I didn’t imagine he cared about forgiveness, and I wasn’t even sure I was capable of granting it. I just wanted to believe that the little boy was still in there, and if he asked for help, he would finally receive it.

But the next thing I knew, he fell backward, and with nothing but the flapping of his cloak in the wind, he was gone.

33

Later, when I had been reunited with my family and was safe back in Old Castle, Father would try to explain Ceren’s death was the justice he deserved.

“Ceren took too much from the sea, Nor,” he said to me as we sat under the stars in the courtyard with Zadie and Mother. We’d been back for two days, and even though I was wearing layers of clothing and had wrapped myself in a thick throw, I still couldn’t get the chill out of my bones that had crept in the moment Ceren died. Adriel thought it might be the lingering effects of the broken bond, but I didn’t believe it was that simple. I knew well enough now that nothing ever was.

Varenians believed that Thalos was a hungry god, one who demanded sacrifices from our people. Perhaps Father was right, and Ceren’s fate was a kind of justice. But believing his downfall would bring me some kind of resolution had been foolhardy. I was relieved to know he wasn’t immortal, at least. But I felt just as unsettled as I had when my journey began.

There was much to be grateful for, of course. Zoi was healthy, and while the kidnapping had been frightening and confusing, I hoped she was young enough that the memory would fade over time. The wounds would still be there, of course. They were for all of us. But if we were lucky, they would heal over stronger than before, fading into scars that reminded us of everything we had survived.

As if sensing my turmoil, Mother squeezed my hand in hers. The tension between us would always be there, I knew. But it had eased in the face of far more important things. She understood what I had gone through to help the Varenians—they all did, having lived through some of it themselves. Earlier in the day, Governor Kristos, Elidi, and the elders had formally apologized to me on behalf of Varenia, and while I appreciated the gesture, it didn’t bring me the satisfaction it might once have. Even seeing Sami reunited with his family couldn’t erase the pain our community had caused him.