Chapter 93 Nikolai
Nikolai
Her words sting, and I recoil. Everything I’ve built, everything I’ve become—my fist tightens around my amulets, my throat constricting. I know, logically, that Taera is searching for truth, but it still hurts that this isn’t the version of me she wants. That she doesn’t consider this face real.
My pain intensifies as I imagine baring myself to her: the agony of peeling open old wounds and revealing my past when I’ve come so close to burying it forever.
My first instinct is to fake it, to peel back one layer of lies and replace it with another. It would be so easy to fool her, one last time. One final deception. Just considering it makes me aware of how irredeemable I am.
“Don’t lie to me again,” Taera whispers, as though she can read my thoughts. The shame hits me in the stomach like a block of stone. I can’t do it; I can’t. Even the temptation makes me sick.
I’m broken. An illusionist who can’t even lie.
But can I show her the truth?
The thought has me dizzy—the idea of crumbling walls and breaking every stone I’ve carefully laid. Even if I wanted to, I don’t know if I’m capable of pulling back those layers anymore. The muscles of my magic clench, unrelenting, at the mere thought.
“You won’t do it,” my shadow whispers. “Not even for her.”
I know he’s speaking the truth.
“I can’t.” Admitting it strips me of any hope of forgiveness. “Anything else.”
Taera gives a desperate sort of laugh, incredulous.
“Please, ask anything else of me.”
“The one thing I ask.” Her breathless tone is on the verge of crazed laughter. “And you can’t.”
“Please.” I know my words are pathetic.
“You can’t?” she says. “Or won’t?”
Again, I’m struck by the irrepressible urge to lie—to tell her I’ve forgotten my true face and I can’t create it anymore; that I was cursed and that part of me has been lost forever; that I have a dependency on magic, and letting go of it will destroy me.
The last one might be true. I choke on the lies, my mouth bobbing open and closed.
Forcefully, I make myself imagine what will happen if I lie to her.
I’ll never be able to look into those gorgeous, desert-colored eyes again.
Taera is silent now, tears once again shining down her cheeks. I should give myself over to the blood glass for hurting her like this.
“Please believe me.” I push the words out. “I—I can’t face who I used to be.”
“You can’t face it?” Taera, overrun with emotion, starts to giggle like she’s insane.
“This is who I want to be.” I gesture to myself, but she’s still lost in a fit of laughter that catches at the edges and morphs into sobbing.
“It’s the only thing I can’t show you. It’s the only thing I—” My throat stops working. I would do anything for Taera, except this. This is the only secret I can’t tell. The only place I’m unwilling to go.
Understanding clicks.
Slowly, I rise to my feet. My eyes are wide with astonishment, with the simplicity of it.
“What?” Taera’s staring at me, her eyes narrowing at my sudden change of demeanor.
“That’s the answer,” I whisper.
“I don’t understand.” Her brow creases, her tears forgotten in her concern for me. I broke her heart, and she still wants to save me. Taera is too sweet for this world. But perhaps I can save us both.
“You can end this,” my shadow murmurs. Taera’s eyes flit toward the voice. She glances between the two copies of me. The illusion must be tangible to her. I’m slipping. I need to finish this tonight, before it’s too late.
She won’t accept anything but truth? I’ll make this the truth. Forever.
“I can fix everything,” I say.
Backing toward the door, I focus on the peaceful light in the center of the storm—the sudden clarity. Blood glass recedes from my path.
“I can become who you want,” I whisper. “Who you deserve.”
Horror overtakes her features. “No!”
“I can make this all better.”
“Better than me?” she whispers. Her anger has shattered into pure devastation, and the blood glass in the doorway crumbles away.
“I have to do this,” I say, turning away.
And I run.
Out the door, down the hall, toward the labyrinth.