Chapter 62
Mirror. Mirror.
Disoriented, I looked around, trying to gain my bearings.
The dome.
The shield.
Her.
Relief flickered—until it twisted.
The angle was wrong.
The air was wrong.
The scent—
Salt. Terror. Human.
It filled my lungs with a clarity that wasn’t mine.
My body was larger. Heavier.
Male.
My pulse stuttered as I realized the Fates hadn’t returned me to my memory—they’d thrust me into his.
Into Endymion.
Seeing it as he had.
Feeling it as he had.
I sat back in awe, the breadth of my shoulders molding to the curve of her magic, its dome glittered like mine used to—a trait unique to me, or so I’d thought.
Its beauty was at such odds with the terror, and salty tears that filled my nostrils, the dome thick with her anguish as she flinched from the crackling magic like each one was a physical blow.
She was only a long sword’s distance away, but there may as well been a chasm between us given how helpless to save her from the memory.
I’d wondered why she’d trembled from the innocent touch as I’d lifted myself into her saddle—I no longer had to wonder.
What she’d been through, no one should’ve had to endure.
She’d pulled me into this bloody nightmare like the Dream Weaver himself, and any doubt I had about being her kintoran had vanished the second I’d realized what she’d done.
This wasn’t possible. At least not anymore. But what the fuck did I know? The spark was no longer some wild, untamed magic of the gods. It was this living, breathing, brave, stubborn, kind-hearted, indomitable woman bound to me in a cruel twist of fate.
Her magic was beautiful. The glittering brightness reminded me of stardust. I loved how it was the complete opposite of the dull, lifeless void mine had become. Unable to stop myself, I ran my hand along her shield, marveling at how the white sparks seemed to pull toward my fingertips.
It didn’t matter that this was a dream—it was real to her—and as her small screams shifted to exhausted whimpers, and I prayed to the stars her body wasn’t under the same duress as the projection of her.
With how hard she shook, I was genuinely concerned her fragile human spine might fracture from the strain.
“Nyleeria,” I said, voice low, trying to reach her. Desperate to get he out of there.
She flinched, pressing herself harder into the dome, making herself smaller—if that was possible—just to garner even a fraction of distance from me.
Fuck.
I dragged my hands down my face. That was a reckless decision. What Thaddeus had done to her. How she’d survived such a thing. Of course she cowered away from a male’s voice.
I’d felt the moment she’d prayed for death, but by some miracle she was still here, with me. It was selfish to be grateful she’d survived knowing now how she cursed the miracle every single day. Maybe not overtly, but still.
The dome faded as my essence separated from his until I no longer saw through his eyes.
Heard his thoughts.
Until, I was me.
I stood in the strange white, anti-void Endymion and I had found ourselves in the last time this played out—only he wasn’t there.
Instead, a little girl no older than seven, now cowered at my feet. I knelt, and as I, bright-green eyes ravaged by tears stared up at me. With a soft, comforting smile, I reaching out, tucking her mahogany hair behind her rounded ears.
My eyes burned with unspent tears as my heart broke for her in a million different way.
I knew her fate, for it was mine, because she was me.
My past sniffled and wiped her nose unceremoniously against her threadbare sleeve. “You came,” she said, her voice small and uncertain.
Leaning back on my heels, I wiped a tear from her cheek. “Of course I came.”
She heaved in a couple of ragged breaths, emotion threatening to consume her. “Why”—she sniffled again—"did you leave me?"
“Oh, sweetheart,” I said softly, “I never left you. I’ve always been here.”
She shook her head vehemently, tears tumbling to the ground. “No,” she sobbed. “You didn’t stay and fight for me. You left. Let him shut me away.”
It was suddenly hard to swallow, my own emotions bubbling.
I knew the he she meant, and she was right.
I had given up. I’d given up so many times on her—on me—on us.
I’d been so afraid that I didn’t listen to the part deep down that had known it was wrong to allow Thaddeus to pull from me again.
I hadn’t fought for her—for the part of me that whispered sweet reminders that I deserved better, until she was forced to buck.
I was a fucken hypocrite.
How angry had I been at Tarrin for the exact same thing? For not protecting me? For not showing up in the way he needed me to; even though I’d abandoned myself long before him. I’d abandoned myself every time Cassy hurt me, and I stayed silent. When I hadn’t fought for Eithan.
But the greatest sin of all was when I slid that blade through my leathers.
How dare I cast stones at Tarrin when I was just as guilty?
Uninhibited tears streamed down my face. “I’m so sorry.” My voice cracking from the sob I couldn’t hold back. Shifting, I scooped her onto my lap and pulled her into my chest. “I’m here now. I’m here. I’m not going anywhere. I promise.”
She leaned into me fully, wrapping her tiny arms around my neck. I placed a hand on the back of her head and cradled her in close. She started to cry in earnest then.
“Shh,” I soothed over and over again as I silently promised her that I would never abandon us again, that I would hold faith in us, and in others. More importantly, that I’d remember that we had a reason to live.
I brushed a kiss atop her head. “I love you,” I whispered.
Those piercing green eyes made their way to mine as she pulled back enough to place a tiny hand on my cheek. “I love you too.”
We held each other’s gazes, feeling the truth in our words, until, finally, we became one.
I sat there for long moments, missing the weight of her in my arms, but reveling in the warmth of her in my heart.
The white expanse around me began to shift, the tug similar to how the Dream Realm released their nightly patrons in the morning. The Fates were sending me back.
Panic gripped me.
I’d decided to live, but there was a very real possibility I’d visit Father Death before long. My situation hadn’t changed. Worst of all, I wasn’t entirely sure the magic that bound our bargain would deem my side fulfilled.
I never offered Wymond the spark. I’d made sure of it. I’d known it was a massive gamble to bank on him assuming yield fully had meant my power—but I’d intended to die for this bargain. That was what I’d offered him.
I could only hope the Fates’ gambit in keeping me alive had taken this into account.
The room around me slowly came into focus until I was standing behind Wymond with my left hand against the warm, russet skin of his back; my right gripping the dagger.
The very clean dagger. I’d fully expected to find it coated in crimson, but to my surprise it appeared as if the fates had stopped it from happening in the first place, as opposed to reversing the damage.
It took a moment to note the absence of Wymond’s voice reverberating through my hand as recited Thaddeus’ incantations.
It took even longer to realize the Great Hall was silent, and not in the way it had been before—this was absolute, like how the snow bowing evergreens with their weight in the dead of winter steal sound from the forest.
I spared a glance over my shoulder to find autumn leaves frozen in mid-air, their lazy decent halted by Lady Time—and judging by my surroundings, she’d held her hourglass at bay for everyone, and everything, but me.
Ripping my hand away from the High Lord, I slid the dagger back into its hiding place. I wasn’t sure how much time I’d been granted, but I closed my eyes for a moment and breathed in deeply as I found my bearings.
My mind raced with everything that had happened, and my relief quickly shifted to raw, unfettered anger for the High Lord of the Autumn Court—who stood now stood as helpless before me as Kaelun had stood before him.
Without a second though, my eyes snapped open, and I was moving toward the golden sword still stained with Thaddeus’ blood.
This ended here.
This ended now.
The sword was heavy in my hands, but my fury—no, my vengeance—was stronger.
I swung the blade in a wide arc toward Wymond’s neck, and a small part of me was disappointed that his eyes were frozen closed in concentration.
I wanted to see the look of panic and disbelief in his deceptively warm honey-brown irises when he realized I would be the one to send him to the seven hells so he could burn for eternity for what he’d done—never to be reunited with his family.
The golden blade glinted in the warm colors pouring down from the stained-glass ceiling as it hurtled toward its target.
A cry of pain rang from me as the harsh blowback of the sword shot through my hands and wrists. I’d swung the blade as if slicing fresh snow, only to be met with the harsh resistance of a mountain.
Screaming, I swung the blade again and again and again, until I’d lost count.
Voice raw, I panted as I stood there staring down the High Lord of the Autumn Court. If only, looks were enough to kill.
I wasn’t sure if he was protected from the bargain or the fates, but one thing was clear—he wouldn’t fall. Not today. Yelling in frustration, I threw the sword to my side, wrenching it with both hands. It spun once, twice, then halted in mid-air, trapped in time like everything else.
I’d been so lost in my need for vengeance that I’d forgotten everything else.
Remembering the others, I snapped my attention to where they were.
Or at least, where they had been. It appeared the magic that bound our bargain had sent them home, and I would’ve wept in relief, except lying limp on the ground was Endymion.
He’d been left behind.
“No.” I dashed toward him and slid to his side.
His lifeless form was unbelievably heavy as I pushed him onto his back with a grunt, and ran my hands and eyes down his body searching for wounds.
I’d checked three times and couldn’t find a single thing out of place.
Cradling his head in my lap, I leaned my forehead to his, praying to anyone who would listen to let him be okay.
It was faint, but as I sat there curled forward, the faint rise and fall of his chest pressed against my thighs.
Not trusting my fae senses, I shifted, pressing an ear to his chest. A strangled sound left me as his unnaturally still heart, beat.
Its cadence was so sluggish that I’d stayed there for serval minutes to ensure it wasn’t a figment of my imagination.
Not sure if this was the effect of time standing still or not, I stood, the pressed an ear to a guard’s chest. Nothing. His heart was still.
Whatever was wrong with Endymion, it had nothing to do with Lady Time.
Pressing past the fear of what I might find, I closed my eyes and focused on the threads that bound us.
For the first time unaided by magic, I saw those threads, and my stomach jumped into my throat.
That familiar glittering darkness I’d come to know as Endymion’s was a dull matte black, and the threads that had stood strong, were now swaying as mine had.
Most disconcerting of all was that the tips had begun to turn a sickly ashen gray.
I had no idea how I’d get us home, or how long Lady Time was inclined stave off my enemies. All I knew was that I had to get us out of there, now.
Stealing Endymion’s daggers back from the soldiers that’d disarmed him, I tucked one into each boot and did the same for my kintoran in the hopes he’d wake up.
A quick glance ruled out using one of the five exist. There were over double the number of soldiers I’d originally assessed—and of course there was, who wouldn’t want to see their High Lord become the most powerful being on Lumnara.
I shuddered at the thought.
My eyes followed the slightly curved staircase to the second floor, which I immediately ruled out.
Not only was Endymion too heavy to carry him up them, but I had no idea where they led.
Looking out the wall Artton had originally mistaken for glass, I steeled myself and made my way over to test it.
Hopefully, whatever Wymond had done to clean my blood of the poison would allow me to pass.
Holding my breath, I pressed my palms against it and almost fell right through. Rebalancing, I ticked one hurdle off the list, the turned back to Endymion.
It was time to leave this gods-forsaken court.