The royal bedchamber.
Oredison Palace, Gazda.
Sometime past two in the afternoon.

For a moment, I couldn't move. I was pinned between the wall and the guard's slumped body. Distantly, I recognized the hiss and pull and the swift dissipation of the final lantern. My cue. The signal I was supposed to look out for. There it was.

But I couldn't make myself move.

Even as the guard let out a grunt of pain and slumped down to his knees, I couldn't move. His fall dislocated my knife, but I kept hold of it. His blood was warm and sticky against my fingers as he clutched his stomach. Shock and fear rallied in my veins and I kicked out, my boot colliding with the man's head. It was enough to propel him away from and he fell to the side, groaning in pain.

He didn't stir again.

I waited for him to, my body vibrating with building tension. I was prepared to strike out again, ready to plunge my knife into his gut once more. But another strive never came. I didn't know if he was dead or merely unconscious. I didn't give a damn either way.

Something stirred in my peripheral and I looked to Kinsley. She was staring, her lips parted in surprise. What had she believed would happen? We were equals, she and I. We'd both been in the arena. We'd both killed and done horrible things to preserve our lives. I could never forget how horrible and violent she was--but she'd clearly forgotten about me. About how I burned.

And burned.

It wasn't a mistake she'd make twice.

Fire filled my veins, sharp and bitter. The taste of ash coated my tongue, it drowned out everything else. All except that voice, the chorus of a million lost voices. Burn her. I gasped at the strength behind the essence—that darkness that had always swirled in me was taking form. It was pushing past every gate I'd subconsciously placed between it and my mind, my heart.

Burn her.

Kill her.

End her.

The sound of those voices was so loud, so demanding, that for an instant--it was as if I no longer existed. It was only the dead speaking. Only their will, their desire. Their unending bloodlust.

Panic—raw, enveloping fear, rushed through me and I shoved that roiling power down. I'd given it a step when I'd killed Dahlia, but it would take no more from me. No more of me. I was in charge. I controlled it.

And I wanted to believe those things were true. I wanted to empty myself of this thing, this darkness. Whatever the hell it was.

But the pressure was overwhelming. And they fought for control.. Each voice louder and more insistent than the last. Kill her. Burn her. I pushed away from the wall, my body not my own. End her. Take her crown. Bleed her dry. I took a step towards Kinsley. Feast on her bones. Turn her to ash. The throne is ours and ours alone.

Beyond the words that was the buzz of million cries of anguish. It was the screams of too many innocent girls. It filled my chest and I bit back a sob. This wasn't me. I wasn't those girls.

I closed my eyes. My name is Monroe Benson and I am goddess-touched.

Despite the noise from within, I fought. Shoving that clawing heat down, down, down, until it was only me and Kinsley. Until it was only the feel of the guard's blood coating my hands and the absence of Arden's lantern.

I myself to focus. I needed to move. Now. I had no idea how much time had passed—but everyone was waiting for me. I needed to light the explosives and I couldn't do it, not with one of the gowns so close. I'd die in the blast if I did.

Kinsley stepped backward, into the doorway between the sitting room and the bedroom. The knife trembled in my hand as I took a staggering step towards her.  She'd done this. She'd broken something in me and I...I needed...

I needed to kill her.

But was that me or the dead speaking?

I took one more step in her direction and then I froze. There was shadowy figure standing in the sitting room behind her. For a second, I didn't recognize him—but as he lifted the gun in his shaking hands, he caught my gaze. It was quick, that look, just a moment of hesitation, and then he was aiming at the queen who had yet to notice him.

My voice was surprisingly calm as I said, "Tell me why I shouldn't kill you, Kinsley."

Time, I was wasting time. But I hated her so much. I hated her and I needed to know if there was anything in her worth saving. The death that awaited her was far better than she deserved. She deserved to suffer the way Harper had suffered. The way I knew Ambrose must have suffered as Ellora and their unborn child had die—as he'd died. 

I'd once believed death was too good for Viera. She'd been terrible and she'd deserved everything that had been done to her, but this—this girl...

Death might truly be too good for her.

Fire pressed to the underside of my skin, insistent. "Tell me, Kinsley. Give me one reason why you should survive today?"

She opened her mouth to speak, but was cut off by the sound of a gun shot. The force of the bullet sent her careening forward. She stumbled sideway and nearly into my arms, but I moved away. I let her fall to her knees.

She was gaping, her eyes bulging in pain or fear, I wasn't sure. I didn't care. I crouched in front of her, so we were nearly eye to eye. My own breathing was coming out in shallow gasps. The pain from the guard's blows were only just beginning to register as some of my adrenaline waned.

Time was slipping away. Somewhere in the palace, my friends were waiting for me to set off the explosives. But this...I needed to do this first. For my brothers. For Harper. And for Kai.

For myself.

"Kinsley," I said, my voice soft. "I can't keep my promise to you." I pursed my lips. "As much as I'd like to burn you, I can't. Turns out, your death doesn't belong to me."

She spoke through gritted teeth. "Go to hell."

I smiled. "I am hell."

The sound that came from her was part groan and part growl. She lunged for me, but I dodged her again. "I should've killed you, you little bitch—"

I didn't hear the rest; I was already moving towards the door. I paused just in the doorway and met Jax's eyes. He still held the gun in his hands. His bottom lip trembled slightly as he looked at where Kinsley knelt. Her back was still to the door and I doubted she had any idea who her attacker had even been.

I felt, more than saw, her rally her ability. But she was in a palace and there was little plant life that she could draw from. I didn't even bother to turn around.

"Kill her, if you want," I said, keeping my voice low. "But don't let her death muddy your soul, Jax. You're so much better than she is."

His voice broke as he said, "I hate her."

Goddess, did I understand that.

"I know. But...But, in the end, nothing you do to her will match what she did to Harper. And nothing you do to her will bring Harper back."

He glanced at me. "Are you asking me to give her mercy?"

"No. I'm not. I, for one, wouldn't spit on her if she was on fire. I just don't want you to lose yourself in this."

"I am already lost."

I reached out a pulled him into a hug. He never took his eyes off Kinsley as I spoke. "I'm going to the kitchens. Be out of the palace or...or at least away from the blast zones within the next few minutes. I'm already behind schedule."

I left him in the doorway, still aiming that gun at Kinsley. I paused, just long enough to grab Kai's sketchbook from the desk—the one with the picture of Uri in it, and then I was gone.

I'd just turned, ready to sprint down the hall, when I realized that the door to Kai's room only locked from the outside. That explained why the door had been unlocked, because if Kai had been the last to leave the room, he couldn't have locked it himself. He wouldn't have a key. That was a priveledge that Kai would never have been able to possess.

I stood there for a second too long, fight the urge to track down Caine and find those keys. I wanted to lock Caine in the prison he'd created for his nephew—but now wasn't the time. I was too near the edge. Too close to tipping into that darkness, into the depths of my ability and into the blackness beyond it. A place I wasn't sure I could return from.

And I still had so much killing to do. I was so tired of blood. But more than that, I was hurt myself. My head was pounding and I knew that if I paused for too long, I wouldn't be able to keep going. I wanted desperately to curl up on the floor and close my eyes.

Sheer adrenaline and will-power kept me moving. I cast out one single tendril of power, searching for Arden's lantern. Did it really go out, or was I just disoriented from the fight? I felt nothing—no flicker of oil or gas lantern. Waiting.

Everyone was waiting for me. And I was late. So damn late.

I'd almost reached the royal family room when Jax called my name from the other end of the hallway. I turned and waited for him to catch up to me. His brown skin was pale and his face was blood spattered, but I didn't ask about what he'd done to Kinsley. Whatever his form of justice had been, I believed it to be fair.

"Tell me what to do to help you," he said as he caught up to me. "Can I light some of the explosives or...?"

"No. Go to the kitchens and tell anyone still waiting there that I'm coming. And if you see anyone you recognize along the way, grab them and get them out of here. I have no idea what this blast will be like."

"Why not go with me?"

"Because if I don't know if I can do it from all the way in the kitchens. That's really far away."

"You did it from across town with me."

"I sensed the lantern. This...This is different. And my ability is already stretched. I think it would be better if I were closer. And I don't want anyone else to get hurt."

He held my gaze for a long moment. "Promise me you won't die."

"You know that isn't something I can promise, Jax."

"Promise it. At least promise me you won't intentionally die."

"I promise." He started to turn away from me, but I caught his arm. "But you have to promise me the same."

"I'm not trying to die. Not today, Benson. I'm going to live to see this place in ashes. That is a promise."

"Deal."

He nodded. "Deal." Jax gave my arm a squeeze that reminded me far too much of Ambrose, and then he took off. I waited until I couldn't hear his footsteps anymore and then I began lighting explosives.

I started on one end of the palace and lit each gown as I passed—praying I'd make it far enough away before they went off. The only sound was my footsteps against stone and the distant shouting of palace guards. They were trying to organize.

They were asking where Caine was. They were trying to find the queen. No one seemed to know where the king was either.

The ground shook beneath my feet as the first of the explosives went off. I stumbled slightly as a second blast wrecked the palace—this one from a floor above me. Plaster and drywall fell around me in heaps, but I didn't slow. I kept going.

I kept running full speed. And I was grateful, as I had been numerous times before, that Kai had made me run all those damn laps around Third Corps. Because even if I was still out of shape, I knew how to breath, how to push myself to keep going. And that was what mattered most.

I couldn't stop.

My heart was a thunderous beat in my chest as I darted down the grand staircase. The sound of guards and soldiers was louder now—they were yelling and I couldn't tell if it was sounds of a fight or the preparation for one. They were losing their shit though. Caine's fearsome force was easily disarmed by the explosives and the fires that I spurred on with every step I took.

People rushed past me, maids and footmen. No one looked twice in my direction, they were far too preoccupied trying to get away from the chaos of the palace. I knew that I could go towards the main entrance too and escape that way. It would likely lead me to at least some of our forces.

Dellacov had told us that the main attack, aside form what I was doing within the palace walls and what they were doing in the city beyond them, would take place at the front gates. Arden had told me that if I got separated from the rest of my group, I could go to the gates and find our people.

"Darragh doesn't want to come in like a thief," Dellacov had said, "Britta owns this place. He says her army ought to come through the front gates."

It was bold, since the gates were heavily guarded and Caine's forces, even scattered, would focus their attention on the entrances—especially that one. Something about that made me hesitate to join the fray.

I paused near the bottom of the steps and listened.

Up ahead, men were shouting orders. Some of the people running past me were now soldiers rather than servants. And while none of them were paying attention to me, I couldn't risk running into Caine. He would pay attention to me. Especially if Kinsley or Larkin had told him that I was here.

The sound of boots seemed to grow louder as an unseen force moved down the far hallway towards m. I stopped mid-step, turning on my heels to scan the hallway. To my right were the doors to two different rooms. The first set went to the royal dining room and the second set went to the throne room. Both sets of doors were shut and possibly locked.

I needed to get out of here. Now.

My mind spiraled until it landed on the barest bones of plan.

There was a private entrance to the throne room, one that had a servant's stairwell the royals often used to come and go without fanfare. I'd found it during one of my aimless walks around the palace during my imprisonment.

Though I had little to back this claim, I felt as if those more visible tunnels might eventually connect to the more secretive ones. Like the one's I'd used to escape this place the first time. If I used the throne room stairwell, maybe I could backtrack and end up in the underground tunnels or back in the kitchens.

Better to go there and not find my friends then to stay here and be caught with only my fraying ability and a bloody dagger. And goddess above, I didn't want to be found like that by Caine. I'd used what little extra energy I had on Kinsley and her guard.

From down the hall, I could hear distinct words now, commanders yelling about going to blast sites. Orders to grab water buckets and abandon the wounded. They needed to put out the fires before they grew.

Not my friends then—Caine's soldiers.

The doorknob to the throne room was cold against my hand as I flung it open. Somewhere, in the depths of myself, I was still weaving threads of power—still sparking explosives. I both felt and heard the blasts. The chandeliers rattled above me. Fire was spreading from room to room, bleeding like a fresh wound and the distant heat of it seemed to feed me. I'd never used my ability like this and it was pure bliss to be fully unchained.

I was a mortal girl, yes. But I felt otherworldly. I was fire. I was flame. I was empress of a charred kingdom. I was the goddess and every girl that had died in her name. And this feeling...It was not the sort of feeling a queen should possess. It could only ever lead to ruin and reckless abandon.

It might lead to my death and the death of hundreds, thousands, if it weren't contained.

And yet, I urged the flames forward, willed myself to burn hotter, brighter.

I lit the explosives in the library as I shut the door to the throne room and locked it. I turned around, pressing my back to the door. Letting it hold me up. For a moment, I stood there, my eyes closed, my breathing ragged.

I needed to get out of here. But I wasn't sure I'd be able to walk anymore. My legs were shaking with nerves or adrenaline—maybe a bit of both. And with so much of my ability out in the world, I felt deflated. A shell of myself.

"I told the guards that I didn't want to be disturbed and I meant it. I don't need a damn guard and I will not evacuate. If Caine has a problem with it then he can come tell me himself."

My eyes flew open, searching the darkened room for him. And there he was, his eyes narrowed as they took me in. I was a few yards away, hidden in the shadows of the overhead balcony. I knew he couldn't fully see me, not from where he sat, slumped on that damned onyx throne.

"You are a fool," he said. "You and every last soldier that followed him here. You killed and lied and robbed your own kingdom, and for what? So that you could have a shred of my uncle's power. His men are nothing to him. He has not loyalty to you. You're a pawn. A toy. A plaything. He will break you and use you and then he will replace you. When you are dead, he will not mourn you. Why...Why follow him at all? It isn't for me. Or your stupid goddess. And he doesn't pay any of you well enough to warrant all of this," he gestured out at the throne room. "You will all die. Britta has come just as I knew she would and she will not spare any of us. And she shouldn't. I hope she doesn't." He sighed and placed his head in his hand. "So, if you want a chance at escaping this shit hole, then you should run now. To hell with protecting me. I am no one. I'm not king. And neither is my uncle. It's a sham. It's all always been a sham. And I'd prefer if no one else died for my lies."

I was breathless, unable to look away from him or speak. He was here. Only feet away from me. He seemed thinner than I'd last seen him, his dark hair longer, his face gaunt. Whatever Darragh believed Kai's experience with Caine had been in my absence, he was wrong. I knew that look. It was the same broken shroud that had cloaked Uri in the days before she died.

Kai leaned back in the throne, lifting his eyes to me once more. "You are released from your post, soldier. Orders mean nothing, not with a true Warwick Queen storming the gates."

I hesitated, unable to move away from the support of the door. My muscles throbbed from running and my heart beat so loudly I wasn't sure I could even speak over the sound of it. When I didn't move or say anything, Kai straightened in his seat on the throne and leaned forward slightly, trying to get a better look at me.

"Why—Why are you hiding in the shadows?" He asked.

His voice was quieter now, less angry. He didn't recognize me, which was part of it maybe—but there was also a lifelessness in his words, a disconnect I wasn't used to. Hopelessness. Undeniable hopelessness.

After a second of silence, he leaned back into the throne again, bracing an elbow on the stone arm of it. "I don't know what they've said to the staff. But I'm not—I'm not going to harm you. I'm not going to harm anyone. I just want to be left alone. I haven't been alone in weeks and I just... please. Please let me have this."

I swallowed and took a step a small step forward. "Aren't...Aren't you going to fight?"

His head shot up and he straightened, as if he'd been stuck by lightening. "Monroe." He said my name with such tenderness, such raw hurt, that it stole by breath away. It made me hesitate.

I didn't know what I'd expected from him—anger, probably. Kinsley was right, I'd gone against his wishes. He'd risked a lot to get me out of here and I'd come back, despite his plea for me to stay away.

I saw him stop himself from standing up, from going to me. He closed his eyes, like he was saying a prayer. And knowing how I so often tested his patience, he probably was. When he spoke again, his voice was filled with an emotion I couldn't exactly name. "You...You aren't supposed to be here."

I took another step forward, bolstered by anger and weeks' worth of pent up frustration. "Why? Because you sent me away?"

"No. Because Darragh promised."

Fury heated my blood. "Let's get something straight: I'm not  your mother."

I hated that I wanted him to hold me. I hated that I wanted him to want me. And I hated that I was here—standing only a few feet away from him—and it was as if I were still an ocean away.

I swallowed down a cry of frustration and stepped further into the throne room. "I am not Caterine. I am not some girl you can send away when it suits you. I'm not a secret for you to keep. I'm not a promise you can make. I am not a trade or a treaty or a bargain between kings. I am not a card to be swapped or a game piece to be played. I am not a solider or a damsel or anything in between. I am goddess-touched. That throne you sit on is as much mine as it will ever be yours. And I will not be controlled by you or anyone else. Not ever.  I will not be locked away. I will not bow to your every whim. I am not your property. You don't get to tell me where I can and cannot go. I make my own choices. And...And if I want to be here, with you, then that's where I'll be. No one will stop me. No one."

He caught sight of me then. Got a good look at my torn dress and the blood splattering my body. I knew the blade strapped to my thigh was still coated in the guard's blood. I hadn't even bothered to clean it—I was certain there'd be more to add before this day was done.

"Monroe," my name was different on his lips this time, worried. Afraid—not of me, but for me.

"It isn't my blood," I said. "Or...It isn't all my blood."

At the words, he turned still, motionless as the piece of stone he sat on. I could tell he wanted me to stay away. He wanted to tell me to leave. I could see the need to protect me written all over his face. Kai had always been a strategist, but I was the weakness he hadn't known how to work around. I was the blind spot. The open angle of attack. But I was blade too.

Like Kinsley, he'd seemed to have forgotten that.

So I didn't stop, I kept moving.

I crossed the throne room, I climbed the dais, I moved until I was there, until I was leaning over him, my hands braced on the arms on the throne. His head tilted up, his face turning towards mine. Those golden eyes I loved so much, the eyes he and Uri had shared, were wide with an emotion I couldn't quite name—longing, fear, regret?

Maybe all of it.

He swallowed and his gaze flitted away from mine, unsure. I saw him notice the blade once more. "Why—Why did you come back?"

I stayed where I was, still standing before him, still close enough I could touch him if I wanted to. But I didn't reach out. I wasn't sure I was done being mad, but I was certainly done pretending that I didn't love him. I'd been vocal about it for weeks. I'd defended him to his enemies.

But it twisted something deep in my chest to say any of it to him. He'd broken my heart. Why should I confess my love for him now? Why should this be my moment of declaration? I hadn't broken us. He'd done that. His lies and his choices had brought us here.

He must have seen something change in my expression because he just shook his head. "I've apologized over and over again. You said you wanted more than words. You said you wanted action. So, I gave you what you needed, Monroe. I tried, at least. And I know it wasn't exactly the action you wanted. But I couldn't go another day, another hour, watching him hurt you for me. Because of me. So I  gave you freedom. I—I sent you to the sea." The corner of his mouth twitched, a forlorn sort of smile. "I told you I would take you there one day and I did. I sent you far enough away that Caine could never hurt you again and you...you came back. Why? Why would you come back? It's the one order I needed you to follow. I begged Darragh. I was willing to give him everything. And now you're here and Caine will hurt you. He'll use you to hurt me and it isn't worth it—"

"Because I love you, damnit." The words spilled from me, aching and raw. "I love you and I—"

I didn't finish, because then he was kissing me. He was kissing me and I was being pulled forward onto his lap. I kissed him back and it wasn't sweet, it wasn't patient, this kiss. It was hard and soft all at once. It was all warm breath, scraping teeth, and frenzied hands.

This kiss was a hello and a goodbye. It was a challenge. The pressure of his mouth on mine was angry, demanding in a way that it never had been before. It held questions and answers. And I fell into it entirely.

Kai's hands were a firm weight at my waist. My hands were in his hair. And all the while, the palace burned around us. I felt each tendril of control snap, each tether slipping from my grasp as explosive after explosive wrecked Oredison Palace.

Guards were yelling outside and I knew, from the sound of bullets and the clash of blades, that it wasn't just Caine's soldiers anymore. At the sound, at the proximity of it, Kai tried to pull away from me, to say something—probably something annoyingly sensible—but I just kept kissing him.

He let out a breathy laugh. "You have no idea how...how much I've missed you," he whispered, his lips tracing the line of my jaw.

"I love you." I cupped his face, brining his mouth back to mine. I'd never considered this place to be my home—but he was. And I was relieved to be here again. To be held by him again.

He finally pulled back, cupping my face in hands, his thumbs rubbing away tears I hadn't known I'd been crying as he said, "But you—you told me to go to hell. I have thought about it every single day since you left. I don't blame you for it. I deserved it and much more. But...But I thought you hated me. You told me to go to hell."

I pressed another kiss to his lips, this one chaste and sweet—a promise of more later. I sighed and leaned my forehead against his. "Only because it's where I'm going."

***
🔥🔥🔥
Hi, friends. I'm back. Happy 2022. A few things I wanted to mention here:

First, The Culled Crown has a new name. In print, TCC will be Of Cages and Crowns. If you follow me on instagram (and I hope that you do) then you will already know this. I still wanted to mention it here so there was less confusion.

Second, the official cover for OC&C will be announced in the next few weeks (I'm thinking around the middle of February or early March). With the cover release comes preorder. Ahh! That's so wild. Please, please, please preorder this book. It is so different and so much the same and I can't wait to share it with all of you. Preorder is especially important because it shows booksellers that a book is wanted and alerts them that they need to stock more of it. Without preorders, booksellers don't always know how many books to put on the shelves in their locations and that can lead to the book selling out (which is great), but means you will have to wait to get your hands on it. And I know many of you have been waiting for YEARS to have a printed copy. Please preorder it. She's gonna be thiccccc and in hardcover. Also there will be a MAP. 🙈

Third, with the preorder and the cover comes the official release date. Fall 2022 sounds like it is forever away, but it's actually just around the corner. I have a countdown on my phone (and my laptop eeekkkk) and I truly can't wait. We are getting so close. If you want to see cool OC&C content, please follow me on Insta. That is going to be the best place to keep up with me, my cats, my life, and all things book related. I will be posting the official release date there soon.

Speaking of book related stuff... I'm writing something new and I'm dying to put it on Wattpad. I know, I know. "But Brianna, you aren't even uploading consistently and giving us the story we WANT." I'm the worst. Truly. I know. But, I'm hoping to change that. I'm planning to spend the next few days reading over the final chapters of TRR. Once I'm happy with the ending, I'll start uploading on a schedule again. I miss you all and I want to get back into uploading consistently. If you want to know more about the book I'm working on, you can go to my insta to see sneak peaks (insta is the recurring theme, have you noticed?). I have a highlight on my page titled "WIP" that talks about the new book. Should I start uploading it? Yes? No? I just want to hang out with you all again, okay?

And finally—
If you liked this chapter, please comment one of these emojis 🐈🐈‍⬛ and tell me which of my cats is the handsomest boi  (Jinx or Salem). For reference pictures, please refer to instagram (it's briannajoyc on there). Be nice, I will be reading all of these comments to them and they both know how to hold a grudge.