A Clash of Three Courts (An Heir Comes to Rise, #4)

by C.C. Peñaranda

“This isn’t funny,” she breathed in bewilderment. “No one’s laughing, love.”

Don’t ask questions—they arouse suspicion. Make statements as if you hold the answers already.”

“What does it mean…to have a mate?” Nik blinked, stumped at the swerve of topic. “Why would you ask?” “To understand. Because as your friends…we can’t sit by and watch you make the mistake of a lifetime. And for your kind, that is a long, torturous existence.”

“I’ve often wondered if we’re all born cursed to desire what doesn’t come so easily. To long for what is always just out of reach.”

“You became a leading general, yet you can’t recognize when the greatest weapons are right in front of you.” “Books?” “Knowledge,” she specified. “And stories. Words hold power, Lycus. They can cut and love and inspire. They can break from the inside out.”

“Maybe I like being the bad guy.”

“I’m sorry that he left you,” he said so quietly she wondered if he hoped the guards wouldn’t hear it. “But I won’t.” “Because you have no choice.” “Because I understand.”

And Tauria wondered if there would ever come a time—in years, centuries—that it wouldn’t inflict such pain to watch him walk away.

His heart knew exactly where hers beat.

“You have never been my ward. Or my subject. Or my princess. You are my equal, Tauria. In every way, you shine brighter than the moon I’ve watched change in the sky since you left, knowing it was the one thing we could look upon all the same. Is that pitiful of me?”

I love you enough to set you free.”

“I might have loved you once. But now I think I hate you.” Nik gave no warning, no hesitation, as he closed the gap between them. His hands took her face, and his lips crashed to hers. Tauria answered to it. Spirits be damned, she did. She couldn’t stop the response of her body as it came alive with his touch. He pulled away abruptly, eyes wild and blazing. “Say that again. But say it like you mean it, Tauria.” They stared off in challenge as he held her still, matching hard breaths of anguish. “I hate you, Nikalias.” “Not convincing enough.”

I want you to know that I would go to war for you. Because you are Fenstead, but you are also High Farrow. And no matter what you choose, I am yours. Even if you cannot be mine.”

“To see the end the Mortal Gods must stand,” he began, his voice a song as he recited words that gripped her so entirely she tremored as if he spoke of something great to come. “It is not without them that power is true. Fall one, fall all. Find friend in foe to see it through.” Tauria’s heartbeat picked up. “What is that from?” Behind his desk, the man casually sorted through parchments. “It is the beginning of the end, my dear.”

“Your crown,” she spoke coldly. “It wears you, Varlas. I pity the fact you’ve lost sight of yourself under the weight of it.”

“Don’t lose hope yet, Tauria Stagknight. As long as I live, it is a future I promise you.” It was all they had. So Tauria allowed herself to cling to it. Lycus declared, “As long as I breathe, I won’t lose hope for both of us to see it.”

“Enemies fear each other truly because they can identify when they are matched,”

Tauria Stagknight lived to walk herself down the aisle of her own funeral.

“I planned to make sure you got everything back. Everything you have longed for. Without this, you are a princess with no kingdom.” “No, she is not.” That echo through the hall was a declaration that halted time. For the voice that disrupted far behind Tauria caressed her neck and raced down her spine, until that phantom touch traveled within, stroking her senses with exhilarating awareness. His voice. Tauria’s breath shuddered out of her. “She is a queen with two.”

It was in love and loyalty that they would raise the greatest army Ungardia had ever seen to fight back against evil. The hearts who couldn’t love—she mourned for them.