45. Chapter 45
Chapter forty-five
H ot pain slices through my skull the moment I open my eyes, so at odds with the icy cold of death that’s saturated my body. Every muscle, every nerve, is so cold they burn. Abiding and deep, like no amount of warmth will ever be enough to dig it out.
I blink up at the ceiling of my own chambers, bile filling my mouth as memories of the past few days filter through me in a sickening haze.
The Indomnitus. The battle. Dying. Willa.
Her name clangs through me like a steel sword, and I sit straight up, which immediately proves to be a mistake. My head swims and something behind my eyes begins to throb, as I swallow gingerly to keep from being sick all over the duvet.
“Careful there, sir,” Sam rumbles from where he’s tucked into the armchair in the corner. “You’ve been asleep for three days.”
I blink at my friend in an attempt to urge his familiar face into clearer focus, to slow the rapidly rising beat of my heart, as I scan the room to find that Sam and I are alone. Fear spreads through me, far colder than my death. Willa meddled with the fabric of the universe, allowed things into herself no human heart is made to withstand. And now, she’s not here.
“Willa,” I bark, my voice sounding like I’ve swallowed a handful of gravel.
Something flickers on Sam’s face—hesitation? Or perhaps something far worse: something closer to pity.
He shifts uncomfortably. “You should rest a while longer, sir. I’ve certainly never been brought back from the dead, but I imagine it’s quite taxing on the body.”
I narrow my eyes, and attempt to recoat my mouth with saliva. “Speak, Samuel Smeeger, or I will rot you where you sit!”
Sam’s mouth twists in annoyance, and he mutters, “There’s no need to ruin perfectly good furniture.”
“What aren’t you telling me, Sam? Where is Willa? Is she…” I can hardly bring myself to say the words. “Is she okay?”
“She’s fine, Niko, I promise,” Sam assures me. “But you aren’t. You need to rest. Willa will come later.”
But Sam is wrong about her being fine, for the simple fact that I’m here, alive and breathing, when I should be dead.
I’ve known since I murdered the Aeternalis that I was destined to die, as there was no way the kingdom’s connection to the mainland would survive on my magic. The knowledge of my fate had only been confirmed when Willa tumbled from the sky. My days, though they’ve lasted centuries, have always been numbered.
I’ve only hesitated once. When my heart had tangled around her, desperate to give her the choice she’d never been offered. And when she chose me—chose Letum—I was determined to savor every last moment with her. Like the small sliver of time was a gift from the island for all the pain I’d endured, and for the life I would give up.
I’d vowed to her that I would do everything I could to stay with her until the end of my days and keep her in her power. Vows I honored with my last breath, as the only way to transfer the magic of the island is with death—and Willa cannot die. She will be Queen of Dreams for eternity.
But now, I worry she’s welcomed something worse than dreams, worse than death , into her heart by bringing me back. Time is not a linear line to be redrawn—it is a pool of power all its own. It ripples and reverberates, endlessly spiraling. It’s impossible to know what has been changed, or what the price will be.
I shove the comforter to the floor and swing my feet over the side of my bed.
“Niko—”
“I say this with love, Sam…but kindly, fuck off,” I bite acerbically, as my legs wobble beneath me. Now that I’m standing, it isn’t only my head that spins, but the entire room.
My stomach bottoms out, and I let out a furious snarl of frustration as my ribbons slip from my grasp and sprawl to the floor in an ungraceful heap.
Sam jumps to his feet but makes no move to steady me. Which is wise, as I wear no shirt or gloves to protect him from my death. Still, his face is tight with worry, as he watches me teeter. With one last growl of determination, I manage to take a few steps forward without tumbling face-first into the floor.
Pain sparks in my lower spine, snaking down my legs, each step feeling like a nail being driven into my heel. My ribbons trail behind me in twisting onyx slashes, Sam following in their wake as I hobble through my study and out into the corridor.
It’s been three days since I was dragged from the edge of endless nothingness. There had been no light, no pleasure, but also, no pain. I’ve yet to adjust once more to its brutal touch: the way it steals my breath, and saps my strength until I’m nothing more than sharp edges held together by weak skin.
“She’s on the fifth-floor balcony, sir,” Sam says from behind me, as I veer around a corner.
Willa could be in another fucking realm, and it wouldn’t matter. The urge to get to her drives every other thought from my mind. The need to hold her in my arms, to reassure myself she hasn’t ruined herself for me, is a physical, aching thing.
I half-trip, half-slide down the stairs. My breath saws in my lungs as I reach the fifth-floor landing, and then abandons me entirely when I see Willa framed between the open glass doors. Her back is to me, her caramel hair tied into a loose knot at the base of her neck, errant strands of gold and champagne and ash, blowing wildly around her head as she studies the blank canvas set before her.
Her dress is a deep crimson, ornate lace in the same fashion as the Lunaedon turrets encasing her arms and dipping low on her back. She wiggles her bare toes against the chair, and with her skin shimmering in the starlight, the kingdom spread out before her, she appears entirely at ease. At home.
I pause in the doorway, thanking the star above for the small moment—thanking Willa. For the chance to drink her in one last time; the chance to revel in her beauty and power.
“Niko…” Sam tries, his voice ripe with warning. But I’m already bursting unceremoniously onto the expansive balcony.
Willa spins with a small gasp of surprise, her eyes flaring wide. Her lush mouth parts, as I snake my arms around her waist and press her to my chest. My throat tightens, and tears spring to my eyes, hot and sudden, at the divine feel of her. She’s so warm and luscious and alive —everything I’ve never been; everything I thought I could never have.
And now, because of her ruthless heart, the perfect mirror to my own, I have centuries to get down on my knees and thank her for the gift. Her fight, her determination, her covetous heart—they’ve given us an eternity that doesn’t only live in our hearts and dreams, but in the physical planes of existence.
My death spirals around us as I kiss her, wrapping us in a cocoon of darkness—of soft relief and dangerous ends—and I think my heart will leap from my chest in response to the delicious noise Willa makes. I glide my tongue along the seam of her lips, begging her to open; to let me inside and keep me there.
Her fingers dig into my shoulders viciously and her mouth parts, drawing me into the warmth of her. She feels so decadently vibrant , so beautifully whole, that the last of my unease drifts away into the night.
I revel in the sting of her nails, in the strength with which she fights to get closer: to stay closer. She tastes of sweet mint. Of hope and of tears, both hers and mine. I don’t remember when I allowed them to fall, but I groan into her mouth at the pure, dizzying relief of them.
I’d given myself entirely to Willa before my death, but I’d only been a fraction of a man: jagged, broken pieces left behind by a lifetime of scraping. But now—now I am whole, and I lay everything I am at her feet.
I grip her face gently between my fingers, pulling back to take in her tear-stained cheeks and the shine of her hazel eyes, a riot of golds and greens. “You are more than a dream…more than my most wild imaginings.”
My hands run restlessly over her skin, drinking in the sumptuous feel of her; the way her small curves yield so perfectly against the hard planes of my chest. “Beautiful. Powerful. Cunning. I never thought I’d be so lucky to witness everything you’d become.”
More tears well, and I don’t bother to wipe them away. They are proof of our pain, of our sacrifice. “Willa, I lo—”
“ Don’t.” The word is a furious exhale of breath.
My body goes deathly cold, as I watch the steel wall shutter over Willa’s eyes. The same one she’d worn when we first met—that shields every emotion beneath a deadened mask of fury.
Willa tears herself from my arms, wiping furiously at her eyes and cheeks. Clearing away the tears, just as she’s cleared away her feelings.
Her next words are pulled so tight, they’re barely audible.
“Did you know.”
Not a question, but a dangerous demand. Willa wraps her arms around her chest, like if she squeezes tight enough, she can keep everything from pouring out.
I go preternaturally still. “Did I know what, Darling?” I ask softly.
Her throat works with a tight swallow, and a long moment passes before she says a low voice, “Did you know that anchoring myself to the island meant your death.”
Again, she doesn’t phrase it as a question, the words lashing through the space between us like a whip. The air pulls tight, fraught and electric, like the most miniscule movement will fracture the tether between us, and send the moment careening wildly out of control.
I run my tongue along my bottom lip, curling my ribbons around my wrists. They thrash against my hold as if sensing the delicate precipice we balance on. Their desperation is a mirror to my own—desperation to tie her to us; bind her with me until the danger passes.
There are a million things I want to say: I knew, and didn’t kill you on site. I knew and I gave myself to you anyway. I knew, and I still loved you with everything left of my rotted heart.
But all I actually say is, “Yes.”
The steel wall in her eyes crumbles instantly, like she’d been hoping she was wrong.
Her lower lip quivers, and fresh tears slide down the flushed skin of her cheeks. It no longer matters how tightly she holds herself, as I watch her chest splinter before me. Watch everything inside—the hurt, the betrayal, the love— spill to our feet.
I step toward her, desperate to staunch the wound, to soothe the hurt. Desperate as always, to fix the damage caused by my own hand. But at her violent flinch, I freeze in place and ball my hands into fists at my side. My heartbeat is roughshod against my ribs, and for a moment, I’m not sure whether it’ll fly out of my chest, or beat itself to death.
“Why?” Her voice is soft and broken, and the sound of it pierces straight through my spine as if she’s run me through with a blade.
“Because I’ve been slated for death since the moment I became the anchor, and there was no force on earth that was going to stop it. But I could use it. To give you all the power you’ve ever dreamed, so that all your most beautiful imaginings would come true. To love you as well as I could in my last moments.”
I clear my throat, attempting to swallow down the building despair. “I told you there is always a cost to power, and I knew you would never accept the price of this one.”
She sucks her lip into her mouth, anchoring it with her teeth, as she watches me.
“I have only ever been an affliction on everything I care about. This kingdom, my friends, and then you. Giving myself up so that each would thrive…” I shake my head with an exhaled curse. “It seemed such a small price to pay.”
Willa’s eyes burn as she releases the hold she has on herself, and takes two charged steps toward me. “You are worth more than the pieces of yourself you can tithe.”
Shame presses down on my shoulders, heavy and consuming, and I drop my gaze, unable to bear holding hers. Not when she holds life, and I only hold death.
I want to scream; to rage; to make her understand the depths of my ruin. I was honest when I told Willa I was selfish, but she’d misunderstood what I meant. The truth is, the temptation of doing one thing good in a lifetime of destruction, one thing to lighten the burden I bear, was far too great to overcome. And when I’d met her, the temptation had only grown.
I’ve never possessed the kind of strength needed to deny myself the privilege of giving Willa everything she deserved. Of using the little I possessed to ensure she was happy and powerful and free .
Willa hooks her fingers in my hair, dragging my gaze back to hers. Her lips shine a pretty pink beneath the sheen of tears.
“Do you hear me, Niko? I told you what I wanted. You. Your death, your cruelty, your possession. Your mercy, your kindness. You were my power. You were my freedom. I only ever wanted all of you.”
Something between a sob, and a gasp escapes me as Willa drags my mouth down to hers. Electricity sparks beneath my skin at the desperate fervor of it. Her hot tongue sliding along mine, her lush lips, ravenous and greedy.
I have sacrificed myself piece by piece since the Aeternalis’ death in hopes it would be enough. Enough to keep those I loved safe, to protect the softer things in the world that people like Dawson will always seek to destroy. I never considered that someone might want the whole of me. The realization that Willa does, that she was willing to reimagine the lines of time, to meddle in shadows of the universe that should not be touched, crashes into me with ardency.
“I am yours, Willa… I have been since the moment we met. In pain and in pleasure. In life and in death. All of me. Endlessly.”
“I love you, Niko,” she whispers.
I devour the words, consuming them until I’m dizzy. I want to take the rest of her, bury myself inside her until there is no more space between us—until her creation and my death are entwined, the end and the beginning.
“But I never wanted a hero.”
Her deadened tone sends a spike of terror through the center of me as she pulls herself out of my arms for the second time. The absence of her physically aches, but as her skin begins to emanate an ethereal glow, I don’t move to close to the distance.
“You promised to be my villain. To never let anything take me from you.”
“Willa—” The word is both a desperate plea and a dangerous warning, as my death begins to flail around me wildly.
“ You gave me up,” she cries. “To protect your precious kingdom. To protect the world. To protect me.” Her face twists in fury, in disgust, as she hurtles the words at me like blades. “You gave me up and I won’t ever forgive you for it.”
Willa raises her hands, and my ribbons lurch toward her. “Willa, no—”
But my words are lost— I am lost— as Willa throws me through the wards.