The sun hadn't risen. The moon vanished from the sky. An eerie darkness fell over the castle grounds, leaving a strange, shadowy grey pallor upon the land cast by the weak light of the stars.

Helena stepped out of the castle, sucking in a breath of frosty air. Army soldiers were being taken to the dungeons until they could be dealt with. They would have an option of course—join her or face execution. Better than anything Bainon or Narissa had offered, murdering people for the slightest hint of Militia ties.

Aundreya followed on her heels, amazed at how much Helena had accomplished in a few short hours.  They'd carried out all the dead found in the castle as well.

"What next?" Mygel asked, her throat croaky and her arms bandaged from being severely burned. She'd nearly died, attacked by Phoenix and apparently Yoro. Helena should have known the Guardian would turn to join his own kind.

"We build a giant pyre. We need to honor those who gave their lives and send their souls onward."

"But just Militia members, right?" Mygel said, stepping up to where Phoenix's body lay. "Not traitors like this one." She kicked Phoenix's body, shifting it a few inches.

"Don't do that," Helena snapped. "Don't dishonor her. She gave her life for the cause—regardless what she did to you."

"What will you do with the Army bodies, then?" Aundreya asked, only half listening. They hadn't been able to find Bainon, and Maverick was missing, too. Helena worried that the king had dispatched his nephew, but Aundreya was still holding out hope.

"Tossing 'em in the river'd be fine with me," Mygel said with a sneer.

"Bite your tongue." Helena slapped Mygel's bandaged arm, causing her to cry out. "We leave no soul left unsent. We aren't animals. Now go—get them working on the pyre. It needs to be large enough to lay them all out. Or stack them, for all I care. But get it done."

Whimpering, Mygel hobbled off. Aundreya eyed Helena. "You care so much about your enemies' afterlives?"

"It's our way."

"What are we going to do without Bainon and Maverick? Are you looking for him? You should be looking for him."

"I have plans of my own." Helena folded her arms, smirking down at Aundreya. "Plans I think you'll like just fine."

#

Roman lay back on his bed, staring up at the ceiling. His heart ached, his head pounded, and he thought it'd be better if he'd died, too.

He hadn't gotten there in time. Phoenix had died. The words still rung in his head.

"She's dead," Helena said, gripping him by the shoulders. "Eric Lee killed her."

"What? No!" Roman pulled back. "He wouldn't—couldn't!"

"He did." Aundreya placed a hand on his arm as well, her eyes large and full of sorrow. "We saw him stab her clean through. I'm so sorry."

Maverick and Gwen were nowhere to be found. Roman took little comfort in their absence in the bodies that would soon be burned.

Phoenix's body.

He closed his eyes. If he'd been there, he would have been quick enough to stop Eric, just like with his mother. He'd been too slow.

Noelle, Youlden, and Finny were also missing. Helena suggested their disloyalty, but Roman wouldn't have it. They'd never turn on the Militia.

Something had to be wrong.

Every time he felt like he was on the verge of grasping what it was, it slipped his mind. He felt as though he stood on a precipice, about to fall into a rocky ocean.

There was a knock at his door. "Come in."

It opened and revealed Helena, her smile sad. "I wanted to see how you were." Aundreya followed on her heels, Helena's permanent shadow now.

Roman didn't reply, turning his head to stare up again.

"There's something I need to discuss with you." Helena sat on the edge of the bed, watching him, concern knitting her brow. "Until we find Maverick, we need someone to take control. I was hoping you would do it."

Roman snorted. "Pretend to be king while the real king and the real heirs are out who knows where? No thanks."

"Roman, they need you." It was Aundreya now. "They need you to be king. The country needs a leader who can stand strong and make the necessary decisions." She knelt down beside the bed, taking his hand in hers. He couldn't help but see some of her reasoning. "I want Maverick back as much as you do. I love him. But until he can be found—"

"Why?"

"What?" She frowned, cocking her head to the side.

"Why do you love him? Did you even know him?" Roman pulled his arm away. "He didn't love you." Something in him seemed to snap to attention—it said one thing:

Don't trust Aundreya.

"He will love me," Aundreya said, her face going cold. "He will."

"He won't. He loves your sister. Or didn't you know?" Roman pushed up and walked toward the door. "He never said it, but I'm not blind. He was falling in love with Noelle all those months. I'd bet my life on it."

"NO!" Aundreya's shout made him jump and turn to face her. "No. He wouldn't love Noelle. No one will love Noelle. Noelle is dead. Noelle has always been dead. She is nothing."

She lies. Hadn't Noelle told him that? "Liar."

Helena put a hand on Aundreya's arm, and the young woman calmed. "You're right. Noelle isn't dead. I just wish she was. You, however, are strong. You're what this country needs right now. You're not angry with me, you're angry with yourself. You let Phoenix die, it's your fault you weren't there. But it's okay. You can make up for it."

The words were like a punch to the gut. He had let Phoenix die. It was all his fault. He should, at the very least, help Braskey.

"Will you help? Or will you turn your back and let all those people be left in the dark—left thinking they're nothing, afraid, and alone?"

Helena stood, too. "Roman, it isn't forever. Maverick might be in trouble, and until we can find him, we need your help."

"Help them, Roman," Aundreya said. "You want to help them."

He nodded. "I do. I will."

#

Noelle sat on a mat in her dungeon cell, under lock and key by the Militia. She had neighbors in the form of Army soldiers, each awaiting his turn before Helena—join or die.

She'd be given no such choice. Aundreya had selected her cell herself, and she'd left Noelle in no doubt of what her time there would be like.

Pain. Endless pain. Until her body gave up and she died.

It hadn't started yet. Aundreya was too busy settling herself in the higher ranks of the Militia, getting all she could. The way she always did.

Her cell door open and she jumped. Aundreya stood before her. Instantly, Noelle knew this wasn't a planned visit.

With a shriek, Aundreya leapt upon her, slamming her flat on her back. She pinned Noelle's arms to her side with her knees, straddling Noelle's chest.

"He's mine," she hissed, her dark eyes filled with black hatred. "How dare you—how dare you!"

"What? What did I do?" Noelle asked, wriggling under Aundreya's grip. She just had to get her back leg up and around Aundreya to scissor hold her.

"You tried to take him. He's mine! I told you never ever go near him!"

Maverick. Aundreya hadn't used her gift yet, and Noelle hoped she was too angry to focus.

"You think you're the pretty one? The sweet one? The nice one?" Aundreya pulled a silver knife from the pocket of her dress. "We'll see how pretty you are after this."

Noelle screamed in pain as the dagger cut into the flesh of her cheek.

#

They lay the bodies out on a pyre later that afternoon, still shrouded in darkness. There were too many to lay out just side by side on the vast stone courtyard where they'd setup. They stacked them two high. Helena had insisted they place the Army soldiers on bottom, the Militia on top for their dignity.

It didn't matter. They were all dead. They didn't care.

The victors of the battle crowded around, watching to honor the souls passing as a young man stepped forward, his long dark hair tied back as he carried the torch. He reached out and touch one of the bodies on the edge of the top layer, a young woman with vibrant red hair. He lay the torch down on the wood pile below her. Four others followed suit in opposing areas around the pyre.

The flames lit, soon engulfing the bodies, rising high, the smell of smoke mingling with the smell of burnt flesh.

One by one the onlookers moved away, heading back to their duties. The young man was the last to leave.

After an hour, another figure appeared, difficult to see as a bright light seemed to surround him. He stood, watching. Waiting.

#

Death. Who would have thought it would be so quiet? So...boring. The pain had disappeared, and for that she was thankful. But what happened next? Wasn't she meant to ascend up to the heavens and dance with Adonai?

Heat pressed against her, hot, but not painful. She'd never found heat anything other than pleasant.

Uncomfortable. Itchy. What part of death was this?

Her eyes opened, and she found herself in the midst of a sea of flames.

Like I could fool you. You knew she'd be back. Her name is Phoenix, for crying out loud ;)

Phoenix and the gang (well...most of them) will be back in a few weeks as we start BOOK 3!
It's already up on my page to add (with the temp...nameless cover) to your library! Make sure to add it so you know when the book starts up!

I'm still deciding on the name - if you have suggestions, leave them in the comments below! Maybe yours will be picked!

Thank you all for joining me on this journey. It's been crazy fun and emotional! I have to work on A Stolen Wish (or face the wrath of my publisher), so book 3 won't start until August :)

See you then!

******UPDATE:

Book 3's name has been picked! The amazing @KelseyLangenfeld helped me come up with an incredible name (and cover. She's the best). 

We'll see you for book 3: Kindling of Frost and Ashes!