Chapter 32
Amriel and I talk all night, twined together in his chair in the solarium. We wish on shooting stars, and kiss, and hold each other until the sky turns the color of newborn roses.
When the sun crests over the trees, we sleep. Then wake again in the evening, in his bed, this time. His room surrounds us, a lavish wonderland of gleaming ebony furniture and wine-red silk sheets. A bathtub twice as large as mine dominates the center, throwing rich ruby light across the ceiling.
I blink at it blearily. Wriggle my hips against Amriel, who drapes an arm over my waist in response.
“Why’s your bathtub a different color than mine?” I say.
He chuckles, a puff of air that stirs my hair from behind. “Don’t tell me you didn’t learn to use the dial?”
I miss a beat. “The dial?”
“On the side of the tub. You can turn it to any color you choose. I like red.”
My silence must amuse him, because a laugh rumbles in his chest. “Shadows below, I have so much to teach you.”
He does. He really does, but I don’t appreciate his tone, so I slip from bed before he can haul me back.
“Wait,” he gripes as I slip back into my green dress. “I still have orgasms to give you. So many orgasms.”
I snort, mostly to cover the way my breath quickens. “So many orgasms to give yourself, you mean.”
“Well, that, too,” he admits.
I almost turn back. Almost. “I want to see the courtyard,” I say. “And the Wildwood. Up close. We have the rest of eternity for orgasms.”
He sighs. But he doesn’t protest, just hauls himself from bed and busies himself finding a pair of pants and one of his familiar, low-cut shirts. I eye the slice of golden skin that shows through the gap, then tear my eyes away, forcing myself to march into the hall.
He can wait.
So can I. I think.
Downstairs, we pass through a door and into a dusk-cloaked courtyard.
I pad across soft grass, across earth that feels like it’s been here forever.
In the center of the clearing, a heap of white sand glimmers—all that’s left to mark the hourglass’s existence.
I kick at it with a bare foot, let the grains collect between my toes.
I did that. Broke the curse and freed my mate. Freed myself.
“So,” Amriel says. Sunset warms his skin to bronze and brightens his eyes to yellow flames. “This new Grace of yours. Does it work on people? On fae?”
I frown. I told him all about my magic last night, but I don’t know all the rules yet. I’m not sure anyone does, whether anyone has ever tried to duplicate a person.
“Maybe,” I say hesitantly. “I guess I don’t see why not.”
“Good,” he says, stepping closer. A gleam kindles in his eyes. “Because I think you should try it on me.”
“What?” My brows dive together. “No. I can’t—”
He grabs my hand, presses it to his chest. “Just try. I trust you.”
I attempt to pull away, to escape the swell of my magic as it chews up from my depths. As it answers him against my will. But he holds my hand in place, his grin turning reckless as the magic hits him and…
I blink. And blink. Now two of him stand there. One fae, one goblin.
Amriel lets out a groan that sounds like he’s been holding it in for days. “Shadows take me.” He cracks his neck, rolls his shoulders. “That’s so much better.”
I gape up at him. Snatch my hand back. “How dare you?” I snap, the words accusing. “What if that had hurt you?”
“Hurt me?” A sly grin sneaks across his mouth. “Nothing can hurt me. Not anymore.”
I stomp my foot, then turn to the Shadow, but he looks just as relieved. “I’m fine, Princess. We’re fine.”
I huff. “I can see that. But… But…”
Amriel lifts an eyebrow. “Why don’t you try having him in your head all day? Listening to his obsessive thoughts up close, hear him constantly drooling over—”
“My thoughts are not obsessive,” cuts in the Shadow. “Not any more than yours. And you drool just as much as I do.”
Amriel looks at his Shadow askance. “I absolutely do not.”
A faint growl blooms in the Shadow’s chest. “Lie. That’s an outright lie.”
A cold snicker falls from Amriel’s lips. “At least I can lie,” he says flatly. “Unlike someone I know.”
My gaze skates from one to the other. Ten seconds of separation, and they’re already fighting. “Stop,” I say. “Just stop it, will you? Both of you. You’re like overgrown children.”
Twin gazes turn to me in sync.
“He’s the childish one,” Amriel gripes, just as the Shadow says the same. They turn to glare at one another, and I can’t help but laugh.
I’ll put them back together, at some point. But maybe I should give my mate a break. Two hundred and twenty-six years of separation is a lot to overcome in the span of a week.
“It doesn’t hurt, does it?” I say, eyeing Amriel.
He stares at his hands, turns them over. “Not this time.”
“Good,” I say. “Then I guess I’ll let you stay separate, for now. But you can’t fight, and if you’re going to have me duplicating you, you have to do something for me.”
Amriel’s eyes slit, but the Shadow looks eager. “What?” they say as one.
I turn a circle, taking in the color-soaked sky, the gleaming purple forest. From here, the ground slopes gently toward the trees.
In a matter of moments, I can be in the Wildwood again. Passing through the spectral landscape that takes my breath away.
I turn back to Amriel. To his Shadow. And let my mouth curve upwards, let them see how much I intend to enjoy what happens next.
“You have to chase me,” I say. “Catch me. And…well, you know the rest.”
Then I turn to the Wildwood.
And take off running, my grin too wide to contain.
Thank you for reading!