Crowntide by Alex Aster - 86

She meant nothing to him. So why were his hands in fists as he watched his ancestor drag her through the forest?

Ever since Cronan had trained that dagger against his heart, she had given up. The fight had left her completely.

For him . Though he had racked his brain for any other motivations, he couldn’t find any. She could have escaped from Cronan several times over the last few days. She could have gone home and left Grim here.

But she hadn’t. She had brought him to this forest. She was still trying to get him to remember things he never would. She was a stubborn fool.

So why did part of him feel raw and strange, knowing someone cared enough about him to doom themselves too?

The memories she had shown him in the forest had felt like watching strangers. It was odd, seeing a version of himself he didn’t recognize in the slightest. But he had to admit he could see slivers of reasons he might have developed feelings for her.

No, not feelings. Weaknesses . Cronan had been right. The witch had made him soft. He didn’t want to become the Grim from the memories, who had put one woman over everyone in his realm.

But even if his death wasn’t imminent, he wasn’t sure if he wanted to become Cronan either, living alone in the ashes of a world he destroyed. Was that Grim’s future, if he somehow survived Isla’s death? All that he had to look forward to if he stayed on this path?

Was it a coincidence that Grim couldn’t remember the last time he had been happy? Or was it because all the memories with her had been lost?

Is it because she had become his happiness?

They reached a glimmering silver pool in the charred remains of the forest. Only a crown of trees around this pond had been preserved, as if they were made of stronger stuff than the rest. The water radiated a strange, powerful energy that Grim didn’t recognize—simultaneously soothing and threatening, like the gentle scraping of a blade against skin. Cronan finally released Isla, and she fell onto her hands and knees in the dirt. She did not make a move to stand. Or fight. Nothing.

It was as if she was a flame that had been extinguished.

And why did that make him furious?

She had been an aggravating thorn in his side for weeks. He had been desperate for her to give up, or, at the very least, be quiet. It was not until he saw her feeble that he recognized that he missed her strength.

It didn’t matter now, but a pit formed in his stomach at the thought of her just giving up. He loosened his hold on his feelings, the wall he’d had to build up when he had set off to hunt her down again, and Isla’s aura crashed into him. He nearly stumbled as he was hit with her crushing sadness. Hope, ruined. Fury.

But not a single ounce of regret.

Cronan, on the other hand, was full of triumph. His normally cold and emotionless aura was blazing with pride. “The Pool of Possibilities,” he said. “Elusive to me for centuries . . .” His eyes found Grim’s. “Good work,” he said.

Still, Cronan did not remove the dagger from his chest. Its point was still dug into his skin, a fraction away from his heart.

Normally, Grim would have rather fought to the death than allow someone to threaten him like this. But if he wanted his realm to be safe, he had to play by his ancestor’s rules.

Cronan waved a hand over his crown. In its center, the golden Threads of Time gleamed. “The oldest place in the universe is an ancient tree, from which an entire forest grew. In those woods, you can find every portal to every world that has ever existed,” he said, and Grim got the sense that he was talking more to himself than anyone in particular. “Once, long ago, I had a chance to do what needed to be done in order to reach that place. But I made the wrong decision.”

Cronan had said the pool would show him every choice in his past that had needed to change in order for him to find that forest. And the threads would take him back in time, to do just that. To change history . Who knew what the consequences of that might be.

Cronan looked down at Isla. “And the diamond will amplify everything I am. It will allow me to conquer this universe once and for all. Starting with your pathetic little world. Not that you’ll be here to see it.”

He turned to Grim. “The diamond would never let me claim it, but you control it now. When she dies, before you fall, you will give it to me. And then, I will uphold my end of our bargain.”

With that, his ancestor walked into the pool. It glimmered, like liquid metal. The moment he stepped inside, the waters changed. They stilled.

Slowly, Cronan took his crown from his head. He placed it into the waters, and from its broken metal, shadow began to spill like ink, growing until the silver was reduced to only flecks of stars. The pool became a slice of night sky.

The waters stilled again, and Cronan’s eyes went blank.

This was Grim’s chance. He could kill his ancestor. Did he want to? With shreds of himself scattered throughout the galaxy, would it even make a difference? Before he could make a single move, Cronan was released from his trance. His crown flew back to his head as he stepped back onto land.

Cronan had everything he needed, so there was no reason to keep Isla alive anymore. Still . . . she didn’t try to leave. She didn’t run. She just looked at Grim from the ground, then faced Cronan, meeting her death head on.

His ancestor strode toward her, his face twisted into a smile of pure satisfaction. Grim should have been happy, knowing his realm would live. But all he felt was dread. It seemed so cruel, to end something that felt like it was only just beginning.

And even on the precipice of death, Isla’s emotions were full of peace that washed over him in a gentle wave. Peace and clarity and unyielding strength.

It was in that moment that Grim realized that there was strength in surrendering. Her aura was radiating. There was no doubt within her. No fear. Only fortitude.

Even as Cronan’s hands wrapped around her throat, she did not falter. She did not fight. She just held Grim’s gaze, as if she was not covered in dirt in the middle of these ash-crusted woods. As if she was not a moment from death. She looked at him the same way she had in those memories, from across the aisle of their wedding.

“I love you,” she said.

And then Cronan broke her neck.