Paedyn and Kai are reunited but face a terrible decision in this thrilling conclusion to the New York Times bestselling romantasy trilogy perfect for fans of Sarah J. Maas and The Red Queen . Paedyn Gray and Kai Azer return to the Kingdom of Ilya… And Paedyn has a life-altering choice to make. Whatever she decides will determine her fate—and the fate of those around her—forever. In the ultimate battle of love and loyalty, who wins? Lauren Roberts is the #1 New York Times and internationally bestselling author of Powerless , Powerful , Reckless , Fearless , and Fearful . Her books have sold over five million copies around the world. When Lauren isn’t writing about fantasy worlds and bantering love interests, she can likely be found burrowed in bed reading about them. Lauren has lived in Michigan her whole life, which makes her very familiar with potholes, snow, and various lake activities. She hopes to have the privilege of writing pretty words, alongside her cat coauthors, for the rest of her life. If you enjoy reading, writing, and ranting, Lauren can be found online @LaurenRobertsLibrary and at LaurenRobertsLibrary.com for your entertainment. Chapter 1: Paedyn CHAPTER 1 Paedyn A drop of blood splatters onto the floor, marring the pristine marble beneath my shaking legs. I stare at the scarlet splotch, ears ringing and vision blurring. Honey. It’s just honey. Rivers of red twine down my leg, their currents swift enough to have me rocking on my heels. Or maybe it’s the slow realization of my fate that has this throne room spinning like the band of steel that chokes my thumb. I blink at the shiny floor, staring at the shell of a girl reflected up at me. Her face is streaked with dirt, eyes haunted by a future she hasn’t yet seen and never thought she would. Silver hair dusts her shoulders, as pale as the sweaty face it sticks to. She sways, like one might on the shoes of a loved one. Hands are cuffed behind her back, blood leaking from tattered skin. She is shambles. She is haunted. She is to be a bride. But that can’t be true. I took his everything from him. And he is going to kill me for it. He has to. My chest is suddenly too tight, breath catching in my throat beside the flood of words I’m swallowing back. Because death is the fate I’ve been preparing for my whole life—the destiny I deserve. I feel it on the stained fingertips that will forever drip with the blood of others, in the O carved atop my sputtering heart to brand me a weakness. Death is the only constant in my life, like an old friend who hones every one of my dark secrets into a weapon. He calls me weak and all I hear is Ordinary. He calls me doomed and all I hear is an earnest promise. His is the hand my bloody fingers reach for because there is comfort in his imminence. Now there is nothing but the ringing in my ears and this deafening quiet of the unknown. “Paedyn.” I stiffen at the same moment the looming figures around me do. He might as well have called me a traitor. A murderer. An Ordinary weakening our Elite kingdom. Because those are the only names this court knows me by. The only names the entirety of Ilya spit as I was paraded to their king. Simply, they sum up the insignificance of my short existence. My eyes slowly climb from the pattern my blood has painted atop the floor. Honey. It’s only honey. Polished shoes crowd my vision, their black shine bleeding into equally dark pant legs. My gaze slides up the slim-fitting stretch of fabric and every seam concealing the strong body beneath. I urge my perusal upward, and my eyes collide with his belt buckle before skipping to the box resting innocently in his raised palm. I know what sits within that velvet case, can see it glinting out of the corner of my eye. And yet, I don’t spare it a glance, as if that could stop the sparkling shackle from inevitably slipping onto my finger. Higher still is his wrinkled shirt. I trail every button until my gaze settles at the base of his throat and the collar encircling it. I have yet to look him fully in the face since my sentence rolled off his tongue. “You are to be my bride.” It’s as though I’ve been thrown back to the Trials and the equally challenging game of pretend that accompanied them. I couldn’t bear to look at him then, not unless I wished to see the king staring back. But I killed the man I once saw reflected in his son’s green gaze. Edric Azer haunts me only in the fragments of my mind and the matching broken heart he carved into. I made sure of that. And yet, I still cannot bring myself to look at this Kitt. My throat burns. I may have created something far worse than his father. “Paedyn.” His voice is startlingly soft, reminding me of a time when that wouldn’t have been shocking. “Look at me.” This isn’t the first time he’s said those words in response to my pointed avoidance of his gaze. But there is now so much more keeping my eyes from his, a past far more r