Chapter 33 · No Crown, No Mercy

The blade's in his chest.

I can feel it. The resistance of his skin, the way the light hums under my palm like it wants to keep going. Dorian's hand is wrapped around mine, pressing down, and for a second I don't know if he's stopping me or helping me finish it.

His eyes are his own again. That gold flicker—the real him, not the Crown's puppet—staring at me like he's seeing me for the first time in weeks.

"Iris." His voice is raw. Barely a whisper. "Do it."

I freeze.

"What?"

"Kill me." He's not letting go of my hand. His fingers tighten, pushing the blade a fraction deeper, and I feel the warmth of his blood seeping through his shirt. "End this. You were right. I can't—" His jaw clenches. "I can't fight it anymore."

The baby kicks. Hard. Like she knows what I'm about to do.

I yank my hand back. The blade stays where it is, lodged just below his collarbone, glowing faint and flickering. Dorian doesn't move. He's kneeling in front of me, blood spreading slow across his chest, and he looks—

Relieved.

That's what breaks me.

"No," I say. My voice shakes.