Page 70 of The Unseelie Wish

Izael was dead.

Valroy was about to follow.

With one single word, one single silent command, she reached out to all the music around her—of the Maze. Of the bellowing tree. Of the thing behind her that pretended to own a heart and a soul.

Stop.

There was a cracking noise. A sound of wood shattering that echoed through the trees around her as the Maze did its best to obey.

“Wh—” Valroy gagged in pain. Turning, she watched as he clutched his heart, his eyes wide in the first show of fear she had ever seen from him.

The forest had fallen silent. All the creatures within had stopped singing their woeful tunes. Monsters and animals, the Nameless, the fae within, all ceased.

The only sound that remained were the two pipe organs. She commanded them again, this time audibly. “Stop.”

Valroy fell to one knee, shuddering as he fought against her power. The great tree that was Valroy’s heart sputtered but did not end. “You think I am so—so easily broken? You think you can win?” He sneered at her.

“I don’t care.” It was true. She didn’t care if she won or not. It was about returning the favor. This was about revenge. It wasn’t even justice. This was eye-for-an-eye. He had killed Izael. So, she would kill him.

Raising her hands this time, she turned her whole focus to the music of the ancient tree. “St?—”

“Wait!”

A new song had broken through the silence she was struggling to finish.

It was Abigail.

She was kneeling at Valroy’s side, her palm to his cheek, worry and fear etched over her features. Alex knew Abigail’s expression mirrored her own as she had knelt by Izael’s side. It was the face of a woman who was watching the love of her life slip from her fingers.

Valroy rested his shoulder against her. That one small motion spoke volumes to Alex. That terrible, goading, evil thing was resting against the Seelie Queen, relying on her. He loved her. Loved her and trusted her beyond measure.

Could she kill him? Could she destroy their love in the same way that Valroy had destroyed hers? Gods, she wanted to. She really, really wanted Valroy to fucking suffer. But Abigail? The Seelie Queen had been nothing but kind to her.

No.

She couldn’t do that to Abigial.

I am a failure at everything. She let go of her chokehold on the music around her. Most of the instruments didn’t return—she had destroyed the life in the Maze for a good distance in all directions. But the two pipe organs, Valroy’s body and his true self, remained—muted though they were.

It didn’t matter. None of it did. She’d failed to save Izael. She’d failed to kill Valroy. Now, all she had left to do was to kill herself. Walking back to Izael’s body, she knelt beside him and picked up his limp frame, holding him in her lap.

Smoothing his sea-green hair away from his face, she wiped up some of the blood from his lip with her sleeve. She didn’t know why she bothered. A few of her tears landed on his cheek, cleaning the dirt there in a streak as it ran along his skin.

“I know what you’re about to do.” It was Abigail. She had left Valroy’s side to approach Alex.

“Who told you?” Alex heard her exhaustion echoed in her voice. “Doesn’t matter. Not really. I’m just curious who our snitch is.”

“No one. I just know what I would do in this instance.” Abigail frowned. “Come with me, Alex—we will rid you of this magic of yours, and all will be well.”

That made Alex laugh. “All will be well? All will be—” She choked back her ragged laugh. “I loved him! I loved him and I never even told him.” She glared at Abigail, furious—though perhaps not at the Seelie Queen. No, she was furious with herself. “I didn’t want to make this worse for him.”

Turning her attention back down to Izael, Alex shook her head before finishing her thought. “He should have died knowing he was loved.” She sniffed. She really hated crying. “He shouldn’t have died at all.”

“You needn’t spend your life in concert with his.” Abigail knelt across from Alex. Valroy, mercifully, kept his distance and his mouth shut.

“I won’t let that fucking douchebag”—she pointed at Valroy accusatorially—“use me for his own ends.”

“I understand. Trust me, I do.” Abigail’s expression was thin. “Firsthand.”