![]() ![]() The lines between me and the queen had long since blurred. “Whenever you’re ready, lovely Feyre,” Amarantha drawled, her deep red hair as bright as the blood on my hands. I was the butcher of innocents, and the savior of a land. To free them all, to free Tamlin, I would do it. I knew I’d slaughter her, as I’d slaughtered the youth before me. There was another ash dagger waiting, and another Fae kneeling. “Good,” Amarantha purred from her throne. ![]() I couldn’t let go of the blade, couldn’t move from my place before him. As I fractured bit by bit while the sprawled corpse of the High Fae youth cooled on the marble floor. It was an effort to keep a grip on the dagger as my blood-soaked hand trembled. Maybe someone who’d been born whole and good would have put down the ash dagger and embraced death rather than what lay before me. Maybe I’d always been broken and dark inside. ![]()
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