Joth’s eyes rolled back in his head, and a single tear drew a line down his cheek. “Everything is gone. What have you done?”
“She saved your life. She saved us both,” Loelle said.
After a moment, his harsh breathing began to settle as he understood more fully what had happened. When he opened his eyes, they shifted to Kestra. With a most solemn expression, he asked, “Can you possibly forgive me?”
“I need forgiveness too,” she said. “I cannot ask for it in one breath and refuse it in the next.”
He reached for her hand and gently pulled her toward him. She leaned in, and he whispered in her ear; then she softly replied. Basil eyed me questioningly, but a moment later, she stood and walked up the dais to the throne.
She stared at it for what seemed like a very long time, running her finger over the garnets and rubies embedded into its posts. Then she lifted the cushion seat and withdrew the Olden Blade.
“Not the cleverest hiding place, I admit,” Joth mumbled.
Kestra held the blade in one hand and, at the bottom of the steps, took my other hand to leave the palace.
“Did he say anything else?” I asked.
“He told me that if it were up to him, we would still be connected.” She smiled over at me. “But he and I never were, not really. Not when I already loved someone else.”
Now it finally felt like a victory.
A ceremony was held the following night in the courtyard of the palace. My palace, I supposed, for many of those who passed me addressed me as their queen. But I did not feel like a queen. I was no queen.
The grounds had been cleared of any signs of the fighting that had taken place here over the past several days, though I found it difficult to look in any direction and not think of the terrible price so many had paid for us to be standing here now.
As full as it had been on the day that Joth and Simon had dueled, tonight the gathered crowd stood shoulder to shoulder. Alliance members blended with Antorans, and even the Dallisors made attempts to blend in. All of them, no doubt, wondered what the future held for them.
Didn’t we all wonder that? I wasn’t even sure how this ceremony would end.
Our main purpose in gathering was to destroy the Olden Blade and also the remnants of the two disks that I had created, gathered in a fabric satchel. Rawk provided a grand fire that burned bright enough to be seen even as far away as All Spirits Forest, and warm enough that cloaks were not needed within the courtyard.
I stood beside Simon with the satchel in one hand and Olden Blade in the other. He had made the appropriate speeches, the audience had cheered or applauded in response, and I had stared into the fire, barely aware of any of it.
Finally, Simon nudged me and whispered, “It’s time.” I pressed my lips together, ignoring the question intruding in my mind: What if this was a mistake? Whether it was or not, after a deep breath, I threw the items into the fire. A mighty cheer rang throughout the courtyard, but I only heard an echoed cry as the last remnants of Endrick’s magic were scorched by the flames. The last of any magic within Antora.
Simon’s arm curled around me as we watched the metal gradually melt, then drip in long threads deeper into the fire. Then it was gone. The magic was gone.
“Will magic ever return to Antora?” I whispered, mostly to myself.
After a moment, Simon replied, “You are still half-Endrean. If it ever returns, it will likely come through you.”
I turned in his arms to face an expression of obvious worry. I understood why he felt that way, but there was no reason for it. The idea of getting close to magic again had become repulsive to me. I was strong enough as I was now.
Instead, I placed my hands around his neck and kissed him, then with a broad smile said, “At this very moment, I have everything that I could possibly want. There will never be a need for anything more, including magic.”
Simon leaned forward to repeat the kiss, but we were stopped when someone behind us called out, “Hail to the queen of Antora!” In return, many in the group echoed his words and went to their knees. All of those gathered bowed to me, this time out of choice, without force or fear. I hardly knew what to do with it. They were offering me a respect I hadn’t earned, and a title I certainly could not accept.
Not everyone knelt, of course. Understandably, those from Reddengrad and Brill would have loyalties to their own countries, but the Halderians did not kneel either. Instead their focus was on Simon, making their loyalties clear.
I expected Simon would have appreciated their gesture, but instead, I saw a tight grimace on his face. He squeezed my hand, and when our eyes locked, I believed we were thinking the same thing.
I hoped so, for there was something I had wanted to say to him since I had returned to Woodcourt, but the time had never been right. I knew how hard he had fought for the Scarlet Throne. I knew he had promised the Halderians that he would take the throne for them. And if it was what he wanted, he would be a wonderful king.
That single thought almost persuaded me to delay our conversation again, but Simon was staring at me in the way he used to do when we were first at Woodcourt together. His eyes were so intent that I knew he was attempting to decipher my thoughts, if such a thing was possible. Then he smiled, and I wondered if he understood what I had not spoken.
“What sort of trouble can the Coracks get into now?” Gabe approached us with Harlyn at his side. “I’m the leader of a rebellion with nothing to rebel against. Should we fight the new farming methods in the south, or rebel against the very long length of our winters?” He smiled at Simon and then at me. “We need suggestions, for Harlyn and I have agreed that we will never rebel against our new queen, and her king, if Kestra will have you.”
“If Kestra will have me, that is enough. There is nothing more that I want.” Simon turned to Harlyn. “But we have another problem, one I hope you will solve for me.”