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.”
Harlyn shrugged. “If I can, then I will.”
“Only you can solve it.” Simon glanced at me and smiled. “Five minutes from now, I will make an announcement, ceding my short and mostly miserable reign as king of the Halderians to you, Harlyn. You will lead them better than I ever could. They will follow you, as they should.”
Harlyn’s mouth fell open. “You want me to rule over the Halderians? But that doesn’t make sense. Kestra is still queen over the land.”
I caught the smile on Simon’s face and grinned at him. Then it was my turn to address Harlyn. “That is true, and a problem I will address in ten minutes. At that point, I will cede my even shorter and far more miserable reign as queen of Antora. The person who occupies the Scarlet Throne must be able to unite the kingdom. That is you. And if you will have Gabe, he will make a fine king as well.”
Harlyn looked over at Gabe, the smile widening on her face. When he nodded at her, with a more solemn expression, she nodded respectfully to each of us and said, “If I have half the nobility that either of you has shown, I will consider my reign a great success.” Then she gave us each a quick and enthusiastic embrace, ending with a kiss to Gabe that was hardly quick and much more than enthusiastic.
When they separated, Gabe offered deep bows to each of us, and said, “So, what happens now?”
I took Simon’s hand in mine. “In fifteen minutes, Simon and I will leave Highwyn on his dragon. We will fly until we come to a land where nobody knows his name, or mine. Where there is no war, nor magic. Perhaps where there is no one at all but us.”
“Once we are settled, we will send word to her father,” Simon said.
“And to us as well.” Gabe offered his hand to Simon. “So that your friends may visit once in a while. We are friends, Simon.”
I took Harlyn’s hand at the same time. “We are friends indeed.”
As promised, fifteen minutes later, Simon and I left the palace courtyard, likely for the last time ever. We walked to a clearing while we waited for Rawk to arrive. But there was no rush.
We were finally alone.
Simon pulled me into his arms. “After we land, who will we be? No longer a king and a queen.”
“No longer a rebel and an Infidante.”
He kissed my cheek. “No longer traitors.”
He kissed my jaw next, and I whispered, “From this moment on, I leave behind my Dallisor name. I will honor my Endrean mother and Halderian father, but I will not claim that blood. I will only be Kestra.”
“And I will only be the boy who loves her.”
He leaned toward me, a breath away from a true kiss, when Rawk landed behind us, with an impatient snort that suggested he was not about to wait any longer than he had to.
Simon helped me onto Rawk’s back, then sat behind me as we launched into the air. I had no idea where we were going or when we would get there, and I didn’t mind that at all. We had a lifetime to finish that interrupted kiss.
The Traitor’s Game series was my first foray into true young adult writing, and I never could have done this without the expert guidance, advice, and patience of my editor, Lisa Sandell, and my agent, Ammi-Joan Paquette. If one day I win the lottery with a double-your-winnings coupon, from a tax-exempt territory that delivers my prize encased in dark chocolate with a literal cherry on top, that will still not equate to the great luck I’ve had in being able to build a career with these two amazing women.
Additionally, though I’m always astonished by the high level of skill and professionalism of everyone at Scholastic, I wish to particularly thank the marketing department, who have worked miracles through their talents and efforts.
My eternal love and affection goes to my husband, Jeff, who is the strength behind all that I do, and to our family—all five of you now—who are the purpose behind all that I do.
Finally, I wish to thank all of you who read; blog; attend book signings, c
onferences, and classes; teach; manage libraries; and share and recommend books to your friends. You are the reason I’m able to continue on this amazing journey.
And the journey will continue. I cannot wait for what comes next!
JENNIFER A. NIELSEN is the critically acclaimed author of the New York Times bestseller The Traitor’s Game and its sequel, The Deceiver’s Heart, as well as the New York Times and USA Today bestselling Ascendance Series: The False Prince, The Runaway King, The Shadow Throne, and the forthcoming The Captive Kingdom. She also wrote the New York Times bestselling Mark of the Thief trilogy: Mark of the Thief, Rise of the Wolf, and Wrath of the Storm; the stand-alone fantasy The Scourge; the critically acclaimed historical novels Words on Fire, Resistance, and A Night Divided; book two in the Horizon series, Deadzone; and book six of the Infinity Ring series, Behind Enemy Lines.
Jennifer collects old books, loves good theater, and thinks that a quiet afternoon in the mountains makes for a nearly perfect moment. She lives in northern Utah with her husband, their children, and a perpetually muddy dog. You can visit her at jennielsen.com.
Also by
JENNIFER A. NIELSEN
THE TRAITOR’S GAME SERIES
The Traitor’s Game
The Deceiver’s Heart
The Warrior’s Curse
THE ASCENDANCE SERIES
The False Prince
The Runaway King
The Shadow Throne
MARK OF THE THIEF TRILOGY
Mark of the Thief
Rise of the Wolf
Wrath of the Storm
A Night Divided
Resistance
The Scourge
Words on Fire
Copyright © 2020 by Jennifer A. Nielsen
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This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
First edition, March 2020
Cover art © 2020 by Billelis
Cover design by Christopher Stengel
e-ISBN 978-1-338-04547-5
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