Chapter 16
Chapter
Sixteen
Selene
The past.
There you are! “Everett!” I call as I approach the shore. With a stick in hand, he draws in the sand. His back is more curled than a creature clinging to its seashell. Everett’s been gone for three long nights.
My feet stumble at the haunting image. He should have been able to do this as a child. Sit on the shoreline and play in the sand. Enjoy moments.
He was forced to play with swords. And when he roams too far from the castle, he is hunted down.
Shockwaves run through my arms because of the hounds’ howls.
Everett always leaves me a clue before he vanishes. This time, he left a seashell.
Each step pains me as I close the distance. Salt and water fill the air, mixed with the jasmine flowers that line the shore. I wish we could set sail and leave this place—just the two of us.
Trudging forward, I wiggle my toes, driving out the sand from my sandals. “They’re close,” I warn him.
With a flick of his hand, the air pops. He traps us in a time bubble. “So is Sable,” he mutters, but he remains engrossed in his doodles on the sand.
“Why did you run this time?”
“I never ran. That’s not my fate. But one day I will. It will be towards my end, Selene.” He blinks. The red in his eyes remains. “I needed time to think. To see all the outcomes.” He shrugs.
“Outcomes of what?” I sink beside him. A coolness envelops my body. The sand welcomes me with open arms. Reaching out, I rub his back. My fingertips glide over bones, and I frown. “You haven’t eaten.” My hands freeze on his protruding ribs. Father will notice and force him to train harder.
“Seeing endless deaths makes food taste like ash.”
“Everett… please. I need you.” I rub harder, forcing heat into his numb body.
Everett’s cursed with two magics. Time-weaving and foresight. And I’ll let you in on a terrible secret: I am the only person who knows he has the latter.
It’s a shared burden. If my father knew, he’d weaponize his son.
Everett’s magic of time-weaving developed first. Father never thought he would gain a second power. Thankfully, foresight is not something others can see, only Everett.
“I see endless ends, Selene. Only one has the prospect of a beginning when all is done.” His hand moves robotically, tracing lines in the sand.
I study his face; the circles under his eyes are too sunken and dark. The fae of Solaria have sun-kissed skin, but Everett has turned into a shadow; he resembles the fae of Lunestra, pale as the moon, but he does not glow.
“I have tried so many times to prevent a certain ending. I realize I have to let it happen. I have to allow many things to happen,” he murmurs in defeat.
I run my hand through his hair. It helps Everett talk about what he sees, which is why he wrapped us in a bubble so no one else could hear.
It’s hard to keep my voice tender when I ask, “You see your death?” I hate the gods for cursing him with this terrible fate.
“It’s not my death I wish to stop. It’s others.”
Vines wrap around my heart, one of outrage and the other of compassion. They intertwine and root deep, never separating. Everett always puts others before himself. I abhor that, but it’s what will make him an admirable king.
“It’s best not to meddle,” I propose.
“I have no choice. If the gods didn’t want me to impose, they wouldn’t have gifted me this ability.”
It’s not a gift. It’s eating you alive.
“Our family stopped caring about the gods long ago. Perhaps it is time you did.”
“It is our lack of caring that put me on this path.”
I drop my hand into the sand, burying my fingers beneath it. I indulge him as I ask, “What outcome are you referring to?”
He tries to lick his lips. They’re so chapped that his tongue gets stuck.
Has he not drunk in the three days he’s been gone?
“I have tried to stop someone from finding something.”
“Who?”
He shakes his head. “I can’t tell you. It would alter the path.”
“What do you want to stay hidden?”
He shakes his head again.
I bite my inner cheek. “Okay,” I let out a breath. “What’s the reason you’re trying to prevent this individual from finding this item?”
“In their hands, it will destroy everything we know. Everything,” Everett declares.
His hand trembles with the weight of reality.
“I have to let them find the object. Only then can it be healed and awakened again.” His fist curls into a tight ball.
“I have to let so many horrid things pass in order to fix what was done. I have to lose so many people so we can win.”
I’m often lost when he babbles like this. I figure out what he means; it’s usually months later when it comes to pass.
“If this object is dangerous, maybe it should remain hidden.”
“If it remains concealed, the world will crumble.”
“Everett, you make no sense. If the object is hidden, the world ends, but if it is found, the world can also end.”
“I just have to get it in the right hands. One outcome can save us all. One set of hands.” He nods to himself, blowing out a slow, measured breath. “Unfortunately, the only way it can find the correct hands is through the wrong ones.”
“Why are you making yourself sick over something you cannot change?”
“Contrary to what you think, little sister, I am selfish, and I don’t wish for both of us to die, but I have to come to terms with interpreting sacrifice.”
Howl! Bark!
No! No to everything he said!
It’s not the first time he has mentioned my death. His foresight saved me the day Sable tried to drown me. He’s saved me many times, so hearing of my death isn’t creepy. But this is the first time he sees no way around it.
“We all must die at some point,” I whisper.
“I know.” He faces me for the first time. His eyes are wide yet taut with misery—a string pulled beyond its designed capabilities. “I just have to make sure you and I get to that point.”
“Is…” I already know the answer to my question. “Is the person who finds this terrible object Sable?”
His swallow sticks in his throat. “Promise me you won’t stop Sable.”
“Everett, you should not force promises.”
“This one must be.”
“In the end, she’s going to kill me,” I mutter.
Everett doesn’t reply.
A part of me floats away. I wish my relationship with my twin were different. I long for so many things to be different.
“Does this have something to do with why she was in the library all those years ago?”
“Stop before you alter the future, Selene,” Everett bites.
Bark! Snarl!
I glance towards the forest. Hounds gradually emerge. Their paws dig deep as they find purchase in the sand. Time’s hourglass slows and traps every detail.
Everett pushes his stick back into the sand. I look down and see what he is drawing.
“What is that?” I grab his hand. “What are you drawing?” It’s not just random circles or lines. The sand is covered with odd symbols. Dozens he must have drawn over and over again. I watch in horror as his eyes trace the patterns, carving the images into the air.
“I sent these to a new friend.”
“Why?”
“He is a hook,” he pokes the pattern with the stick, “these are bait.”
I suck in my abs. “Everett…” I struggle to sound stern, “what are those?” It feels like some old power slumbers in them. I kick my foot out and rub one away.
He jerks his hand free and redraws what I expunged. “This is what will kill and save us.” He stands, smirks at the designs, then kicks the sand, erasing his patterns with his boot.
Before I can ask him more, he lowers his time shield and surrenders to the guards.
The weight of someone’s eyes has my head snapping up. Titus coughs and nudges his head to the right.
Oh… oh, shit!
The doors to Galen’s private dining room are open. We’ve been announced, but here I am standing at the threshold of the entrance as if I’m petrified—me!
Not a successful start.
I wanted to strut inside with an air of confidence, a broad smirk, and narrowed, hateful eyes. I wanted to proclaim war. Again.
My dress gets trapped under my shoes, causing me to stumble. Ever the gentleman, Titus reaches out to balance me. His warm hands hold my biceps. For a split second, I take his strength as I lean in.
I look up, sensing Galen’s eyes watching. I can’t accept Titus, or Galen will grow suspicious. So I jerk my arm free, tip my nose up, and glare at Titus as I put on a show.
“Touch me again, and I’ll take your fingers,” I sneer aloud.
Titus steps back. He knows I’m acting.
“I apologize for my wife’s tongue, General Titus. Fae can be so uncivilized; they take longer to grow accustomed to court behavior and manners.” Galen leans back, smirking ear to ear. The morning light wraps around his brown hair and illuminates his clean-shaven jaw.
“Oh, dearest husband,” I purr as I walk towards the long table filled with food; smelling fresh bread and breakfast sausages usually makes my stomach growl. “When will you realize your court is more huntsmen than handmaiden? One must wield a wicked tongue to survive.”
So many seats, which shall I pick?
He’d expect me to sit across from him, forcing him to look at my anger head-on.
I round the table, allowing my fingertips to run along the smooth wood. Good, Galen’s watching me.
“Interesting choice of color,” he adds as his eyes undress me.
“Why would I mourn traitors?” I stop walking, loving that I’m standing and holding the higher ground. The irritation on his face is a small consolation. He wants to stand; perhaps bend me over the table in a poor man’s attempt to show his power.
The ball is in my court now.
“That’s what the fae nobles were, right?” I tilt my head and smirk. “We wouldn’t want your people to think I am a sympathizer to traitors, even if they are fae. A queen must stand by her king through thick and thin.”
Good, he’s wondering what I’m up to.
“Although one must question how good your security is, Galen.” I grab the chair next to him and step as close to him as I can before I sink into it.
Do I make sure my cleavage is at eye level with him for more than an intake of breath? Absolutely.