98 | ACT VII, SCENE IX

P R E V I O U S L Y

The screams of the High King haunted Endollon forever.

HARTINGTON CASTLE, ALNWICK, STORMHOLT.

ERIC

THE HIGH KING OF ENDOLLON did not break quietly.

No.

Nothing could have consoled him.

Nothing could ever come even close.

Nothing that Celinette did, nothing that Llewellyn did, nothing that I did. And in my heart... I knew he would never, ever, ever forgive me for this.

Every scream that ripped the air was a stab to my heart, digging in deeper and deeper with every passing second. His voice tore to shreds as he stood there - rooted to the spot - sinking to his knees.

The sounds that ripped from his lips had even Emerick shaking with tears.

Sorrow... from one man to another. To another who now found himself in that same, dark place after the loss of a wife.

A man who had lost it. Lost his life. Lost his soul. Lost his reason to live. Lost everything.

A man who had nothing left to lose.

The pale skinned figure near the window only watched him with agony in her wet eyes that were filled with nothing but misery beyond recognition. Her hands still cradled the three babes as they fussed about, content in their sleep but reaching out for their parents.

"My children," a sob tore from Amphitrite. "My children."

A second later, she was holding them. And tears stained those marble white cheeks, those closed lids, those tiny hands and feet as their mother wept.

And beside her, I was only a statue.

A statue wracked with such unbearable guilt, such overwhelming shame.

Elodie Valmont moved towards her grief stricken twin.

Who immediately took a step back.

"Don't," Tristan Valmont rasped hoarsely, "don't ever presume to touch me again."

Their mother and brother only looked on, horrified.

"Brother," she whispered quietly. "Listen to me."

His face was dark, brutal, unflinching.

"Which of you did this?" he hissed, teeth bared. That nauseating power swirling from him snapped to life like a third eye suddenly had blinked open, stifling us, choking us with the very might of it.

No one said a single word.

His fingers thrummed to life, and a second later... the Thunderbolt was back in his palms.

"I asked you a question," the High King said in that deadly, silent voice. That voice which only heralded danger. That voice that he used when he lost his temper.

"She did," his sister was shaking now.

"Don't you dare," he lashed out, "don't you fucking dare, Elodie."

"She's right," I said quietly, "Edwina... she gave her life for yours. But - I didn't know... know about El. And... the children."

There was no blue in his eyes which had now turned utterly black.

"She - she made some sort of deal. With Thanatos and Ambrosine. Called in her life debts to the three gods you brought back from Vezort - and... and agreed to let herself be wrung dry of her powers if it brought back the dead - brought them back," Elodie's voice was barely more than a whisper against the wind.

And behind us, every immortal turned white.

"She... she only told us about giving her life for yours," Helios's voice was devastatingly gentle, "we... we had no idea about this - about what she'd done. About - gods, Tristan. I'm so sorry."

His gaze saw nothing. And the look on his face - gods, that look - that look was something I would remember till the end of my days.

"She - Ambrosine," his sister stuttered, "she has her. Your wife. I - the dead - she wears a robe made of dead spirits. And she let us go the moment they both dragged her spirit to that prison. That... that cell."

Frozen, I stared at her in horror.

"And..." she gasped, her breath catching in her throat, her words breaking. "And they both - they... they-" she stopped, as if she could speak no more.

"What did they do, Elodie? What did they do to my sister?" Aidon snapped at her, her tone brutal, lashing - and the anger in his eyes rose so high that he could have throttled her.

"They... they - there was a knife. A table - lots of... knives. And... they made Lucius and Asteria watch."

Aidon screamed.

Llewellyn lunged for him, tackling him to the ground.

Tristan only looked at us with soulless, empty eyes. As if the Titan's blood had given him back his life, but the loss of Edwina's had taken away his humanity.

"You are telling me," he said softly, words a pure, pitch black, "that you let the Queen Regnant of Endollon kill herself to bring me back? Are you telling me that you let a defenseless, wounded woman agree to be tortured even after she died? While her dead parents are forced to watch her scream in pain?"

I could not answer. I was ashamed. I was horrified.

Worry gnawed at the edges of my brain, hungrier than ever before. I had no idea where she was now. When Ambrosine would let her go. If what I had done would even work after what they did to her in that prison.

"Do you know, Eric? Do you fucking know what Ambrosine does to her enemies?"

"She lost her mind," I answered, already at a loss for words. "She lost her mind after you were gone. She would have killed herself one day, Tristan. She fucking broke her head after crashing it against a rock."

Not a speck of colour remained on his face.

"There was nothing left. You would have taken one look at her eyes and wished to end that misery, Tristan."

"Son," Helios murmured softly. "She... she lost too much in the war. Pandora forced her to kill Lucius with her own hands. Aidon too, but she managed to get him out. And after she brought the final piece together... she lost too much, Tristan. She lost too much."

"Edwina," Geneva said at last, "Edwina punished herself for it. Too hard. And going out this way - she believed it was the only way she could pay for it. My friend killed herself knowing that her death would bring back five lives. Five lives that were taken too soon from us. And she believed it... that this was the one last good thing she could do. She gave her life so that you could live. So that you could get back that one woman you loved so much. So that she could tell Amphitrite that she forgave her. And my friend wanted me to tell you... that she loved you very, very much."

Silent tears were already streaking down his cheeks.

"So live," I breathed, my warm palm heavy on his shoulder. "Live, Tristan. Live for her. Mourn for her, grieve her, yes. But live. And keep her at peace, if only in your memory. And remember that some day, some time, her suffering will end. And when you look up at the sky... she'll be smiling down at you."

And then, he was crying. Weeping in great, shuddering, broken sobs, sobs that had him on his knees. As his sister wrapped her arms around him at last, as she let her tears fall into his hair. Tristan only held that dead body, that immortal, glorious Queen in his arms, worshipping her, his words breathing promises in her ears.

He held her to his heart for an entire day, an entire night.

He refused to let go of her until the last moment.

And after we bid farewell to her, he wrecked it all.

Half of Endollon lay now in smoldering ruins.

The same way she had burned the rebel states to the ground during her Monarch Trials, before building them back, inch by inch. More beautiful than ever before.

And when the sun went down, he only held out a demanding hand for the box of Cosmo's rings.

Only the promise of vengeance on his face glimmered through the ice in his eyes. A promise to find that lair, and to bring her back or end her pain with his own hands.

And when I placed the heavy object in his palm, the widowed High King of Endollon only nodded before he set out to hunt his Queen.

• • • • •

To all my lovely readers, thank you so all so much. You keep me grounded. And in the meantime, do bear with me if I'm a bit late publishing the next part or answering a comment. You'll always be my priority ♡ don't forget to tune in next time for more plot twists :)