A Queen of Ruin (Deliciously Dark Fairytales 4)

“What can we do?” Dessia said more firmly, edging around her sister so that she could meet my eyes.

Finley watched her family go before staring at the little house that held Hannon. Guilt roiled through the bond in intense waves, meeting my own.

She’d told Sable that she’d make sure Hannon was okay. She’d promised.

She hadn’t been able to save him, first physically, and then with her plants. She’d lost him as she’d lost her grandma and then her mom. The pain I felt from her was indescribable. I wondered if she was reliving the pain of losing all of them all over again.

“Just be there for her,” I whispered, a tear slipping out of my eye. I turned away again. “Be there for the grieving. Help them cope. Let them cry. It’s all we can do.”

In another moment, Finley was walking again, checking on the wounded and speaking to the faeries who worked with plants or potions. She nodded frequently but brushed aside what were probably condolences. She hugged the others who’d lost their friends and pack mates, and the dragons who’d lost a childhood friend.

Finally, when I could feel the weariness dragging on her, she made her way back to me, her eyes shining in the moonlight. Without a word, she folded herself into my arms and then let go, sobbing so hard she had to turn away to throw up. I didn’t bother taking her back to the castle. She wouldn’t want to go, anyway. I just found a soft tuft of grass and sat with her, holding her in my arms and rocking her. It was all I could do.

Finley

I’d lost track of how many hours I’d been crying. All night, I supposed. At some point I might have fallen asleep, because I saw Hannon’s kind face, happy and healthy. He’d just finished his first ever woodworking project, a misshapen table that could barely hold a mug. He’d been so proud. As young as I was at the time, I’d recognized that. Now, grown and somewhat experienced, I understood he’d also felt a sense of accomplishment. Of achievement. He’d always loved pushing himself to learn something new and master it. In fact, he mastered so many tasks, big and large, that by the time the curse ended, I had taken all his amazing abilities for granted. It felt like I had, anyway. It felt like I’d stopped giving him the praise he so often deserved. That I’d forced him into my shadow and left him there, forgotten and alone. Ripe for the picking. All the demons had needed to do was wait and snatch him up.

“Hey, hey,” Nyfain said, kissing my brow and rocking me softly. “What’s happening?”

I started crying again. I wasn’t sure when I’d stopped. Or maybe I’d just started crying harder.

“He could’ve been so much more,” I said, my voice hoarse. “He could’ve had so much more. I held him back.”

“You lifted your whole family up. Your father will tell you so.”

“My father is bamboozled by the idea of royalty and the court. Hannon didn’t care about all that stuff. He stayed around because of me. They all stick around because of me.”

“Finley, they’d have to stick around regardless. They live in the kingdom you rule. Even so, we both know Hannon wouldn’t have come if he didn’t want to. He didn’t do anything he didn’t want to do. I witnessed him pushing you around. He wasn’t all flowers and rainbows when he needed something done.”

“He didn’t want to die.”

He rocked me harder as I buried my face in his shoulder.

“I let him die,” I wailed, clutching his shirt and pulling so hard I ripped the seams. “Oh goddess help me, Nyfain, I let him die.”

“There was nothing you could do,” Nyfain said, his voice breaking, his own guilt coming through the bond. “Shh, shh, there was nothing you could do, sweetheart. Nothing any of us could do.”

“He was innocent. He was the money man, for goddess’s sake. He only fought to protect people. He shouldn’t have been mixed up in this. He shouldn’t have been the sacrificial lamb.”

In my dreams, Hannon’s face had changed in a blink to the man who’d grown up. The man who’d helped me through the darkest times of my life. All our lives. The man who’d been the bedrock of our family after our mother died, even before Father got sick. The man who had always, without fail and without needing thanks, put his family before himself. Always.

The pain was so incredible that I couldn’t think through it. I couldn’t get around it. I felt like I was suffocating within it, dragged down to a black place without a name. A place where only revenge mattered. A place that threatened to consume my very soul.

“Hey, hey, I’m here,” Nyfain said, squeezing me tightly, still rocking me. “I’m right here.”