Chapter 104 Nikolai
Nikolai
One Month Later
When the carriage rumbles to a stop, my chest tightens until I can barely breathe. I’ve never been so terrified to be home. Taera takes my hand, squeezing it, and her soothing hum of magic takes the edge off my panic for long enough that I can step out.
I’m crushing Taera’s fingers, trying to focus on how calm she is.
“Are you ready?” Her voice is soothing. Beautiful. Just like her.
“No,” I say. But I’m never going to be.
She nods, understanding, and waits for me to take the first step toward my house.
When we rap on the door, there’s no answer. I pray guiltily for no one to be home.
Hazel throws the door open. “Nikki!”
My sister leaps into my arms, and I can’t help but smile.
I scoop her up and spin her around, and she squeals happily.
Panic chases through me. What if this is the last time she makes this sound?
What if, afterward, Hazel never trusts me again?
My eyes flit to Taera, who gives me yet another reassuring smile.
“Nikolai? Taera?” My mom steps into the doorway, looking pleased but confused. “Come in. Who do we get to thank for the special visit?”
Tense, I glance at Taera. But she doesn’t spill anything. Instead, she just smiles back at me. Patient. Knowing. For a moment, I wish she’d just blurt out everything so I don’t have to.
At my uncomfortable silence, Mom’s brow creases, but she just smiles.
“I’ll make some tea,” my mother says, taking my eager sister by the hand and leading her into the kitchen.
I turn to Taera, whispering, “I can’t do this.”
“I love you, no matter what,” is all she says, and she presses a soft kiss to my cheek.
A few minutes later, we’re all seated around the table with fresh mint wafting up from our mugs.
“How long are you staying?” Mom asks.
“All week?” Hazel grins.
“I—I’m not sure,” I say. Mom sits straighter, and Hazel frowns.
“Has something happened?” Mom’s voice is quiet.
I exhale slowly. “I have… something that I need to tell you.”
Hazel gasps. “Are you having a baby?”
“No,” Taera and I respond in unison, and I let out a breathy chuckle.
“No,” I say again. “It’s about my… my illusions. My face.”
Everyone goes quiet… and stays quiet. Taera takes my hand.
Do you want me to be there? my source asked me when we were still back at the Halls. It took me three weeks before I was ready. But I already knew I needed her by my side.
My mother, my sister, they wait in silence for me to speak. Like they’ve been waiting to talk about this.
“I’ve been wearing illusions for years. It’s not just you; I haven’t shown my face to anyone in years.
Except, well…” I nod toward Taera. Anxiously, I glance back at my mom, but she doesn’t look angry or betrayed.
Her brown eyes are soft with compassion, her eyebrows gently lifting at the center. But I haven’t said the worst part.
I practiced the words in my head, but I can’t remember any of them.
“I hid my face from you because—because—” I flinch away, agonized. Taera’s love flows through my fingers, and I almost pull away—I don’t deserve such affection—but she tightens her hand within mine.
No one says anything, and I release a shaky breath. “Because I’m the one who drained Hazel of magic.”
I pinch my eyes shut, drowning in my own shame, guilt, self-hatred. Excruciating silence follows, and I can’t breathe; I choke down my own sob.
When I peel my eyes open, Mom’s cheeks are wet with tears.
No one has moved. I scan Hazel’s eyes. She doesn’t look the least bit scared; instead, she’s frowning, as though worried for me.
Looking at Mom, I meet a tender, loving gaze.
I’m shocked—disappointed, even, by their reactions.
I expected horror, disgust, fear, but this feels worse. It makes it seem okay.
“If you don’t want me to stay—” I say quickly.
“Of course we do,” Mom says, biting back a sob.
Hazel just frowns, like she’s confused. “But the attacker had a scar.”
My stomach hollows. This is the part I’ve been dreading most—the part where it becomes real.
“I have a scar,” I whisper. “Below the illusions. On my true face.”
Everybody watches me, and irrational terror bolts through me. It’s not too late to lie, to stop here… But Taera knows the truth. She believes in me. So I prepare myself.
In the past month, it’s become possible to drop my illusions.
At first, when I was physically unable to release my subconscious hold on my mask, Taera had to physically take my amulets out of my hands.
It was only a week ago that I managed it on my own, and two days ago that I consciously pulled my illusions back.
But this is the real test.
Methodically relaxing my muscles, I reach out my mind to each and every one of my glamours: shields that protect me—distance me—from everyone I love. When I drop my illusions away, the emptiness leaves me in freefall.
Mom sucks in a sob. Hazel just stares, her gaze fixing on my scar. Then she flinches, a sharp jerk away that stabs straight through my soul. Fear ripples across her face, her eyes widening.
I’m scraped raw. Lies crawl across my tongue—desperate to reassure my sister this is all some twisted joke. Anything to cover the excruciating truth.
“You took my magic?” she whispers.
Her words gut me. I can’t speak, can’t even breathe.
Shame crawls beneath my skin, and I wish I were anywhere else.
Not staring into my sister’s anguished eyes.
My skin heats, damp with nerves, completely exposed.
My fingers twitch with the compulsive itch to cover myself with illusions.
With lies. I have to clench them into fists.
“Honey—” Mom reaches to take Hazel’s hand, but my sister pulls away. She looks between us, betrayed.
I don’t let myself look at Taera, or at my mother. I’m terrified I might see care or forgiveness in their expressions, which I don’t deserve. It makes me furious, disgusted, just thinking of being offered that sort of kindness.
“I’m sorry,” I say, but it will never be enough. “I’m so, so sorry.”
“You… made the light go out,” Hazel says, clasping her arms over herself and shrinking away. “You took it away from me.”
I didn’t know it was possible to hate myself more than I already do. My self-loathing surges like bile, burning my chest from the inside out. I just want to be consumed by it, scorched until every horrible part of me is charred, just like I deserve. I would do anything to give Hazel her magic back.
I can’t look away from her—can’t risk forfeiting one of the last moments she might ever still want to look at me.
The horror is too much, but it’s better than the cold hatred I know will follow.
I have to remember every bit of her before that happens.
My heart strains with the ache of how much I’m going to miss her smile, her carefree, misplaced love for me.
“Nikolai?” Taera says. “I think Hazel needs you to explain what happened.”
Sinking into the dread of what’s to come, I swallow. I have to face the end, even if Hazel never wants to see me again, or I can never come home again.
“I—never meant to.” I sound strangled. “It was an accident.”
I choke on tears, but I can’t fall apart, not now.
“We were playing out the story of the damsel and the dagger. I should have seen the signs—recognized that your magic was flickering. You were tired, but I thought it was because it was late. When I swung it, the dagger flickered. I thought it was me, and I—” My voice cracks.
“I pulled harder on your magic. You collapsed. I didn’t realize.
I thought you’d fallen asleep. I laughed; I tried to wake you up. But you felt wrong, and I, I—”
I can’t say it. But Hazel is staring at me, so the truth claws its way free.
“I panicked and dropped all my illusions. When you woke up…” A little part of me, long crammed away, flickers with hurt. “You didn’t recognize me.”
Hazel’s brows crease, like she doesn’t understand, like her entire world has shifted.
I take an unsteady breath. “I ran to get help, before I realized… I’d drained your magic. When I returned, my illusions were back up so I wouldn’t scare you.”
“You told me I was attacked,” she says, shaking her head.
I flinch. “Not at first. That’s what you thought happened, and I—I didn’t correct you.”
“But you said you caught him. The mage who attacked me.”
“I lied,” I say, the words slicing deeper into my soul.
Her eyes fill with tears. “I believed you. You promised to protect me.”
I wish I could. More than anything.
“I tried.” I can barely speak, my tongue thick in my mouth. “I tried everything, tried to fix what I did to you. I wanted to be the one to save you, but… I only hurt you and then lied because I couldn’t—couldn’t face what I’d done. Not until now. Not until Taera.”
Hazel’s lips wobble, the pang of her hurt shooting straight to my heart. Her eyes look vacant, like her world is slipping out from under her.
Without thinking, I reach for her.
She recoils, taking one step back, and then another. Her expression haunts me, vacant, the way she turned after she was drained. I’m ripping apart her soul all over again, ripping apart our family with my lies.
Hazel turns and flees toward her room, and I can’t breathe. I don’t follow her; I can’t. She deserves so much more than me. I stare down the empty hall after her, hating myself.
“She just needs time,” Mom murmurs. “She’s only eleven.”
“She doesn’t… She won’t…” I mumble.
“Oh, Nikki…” Mom’s voice breaks. She clasps one of my hands, hanging limp at my side, but I still don’t move. “I wondered… I suspected—but I should have asked. I’m so sorry. You should never have had to carry this alone.”
But she’s wrong. I shake my head. “It’s my fault. It’s all my fault.”
“It isn’t.” She pulls me forcefully into her arms. “It was an accident. You love your sister more than anything.”
I try to breathe, try to calm myself, but nothing is right anymore.
Hazel will never forgive me.
Every minute without my illusions feels like torture. Mom won’t stop hugging me, and Taera gives us some privacy. My stomach burns as I think about Hazel, alone in her room, questioning everything I’ve ever told her, every tale, every promise.
Taera emerges with mugs of tea, and I take a burning sip. The pepperspice burns down my throat; it tastes of sand and something I no longer deserve.
It’s long after we’ve drained our mugs and my stomach has turned cold again that Hazel reappears from her room. She plods over to us, still not meeting my eye.
I cringe away—not wanting to accidentally touch her, scare her, hurt her all over again. The room is silent.
“You promised to protect me,” Hazel mumbles. “Are you still going to?”
I swallow back tears. “I’ll protect you in every way that I can.”
She hesitates in front of me, her huge, watery eyes on the verge of overflowing. Then she reaches out and wraps her thin arms around my waist.
I don’t understand that I’m crying—don’t even realize I’m holding my breath until Taera touches my frozen hand. I come to life, wrapping my arms around my sister and squeezing her back.
“I love you, Nikki,” Hazel whispers.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry…” I murmur, over and over again.
“It’s okay,” she says.
Her words destroy me. It’s all I’ve wanted to hear but never dared imagine, too trapped inside the prison of my shame. My shoulders shake with sobs, and my little sister clings to me just as tightly as I’m holding her.
Mom claps a hand over her mouth, stifling her own sobs. Finally, she manages to croak out, “Thank you for finally telling us. We’ve missed you so much.”
When Hazel releases me, Mom is hugging me again.
“I’ve missed you, too,” I say.
“Anything else you’ve been holding onto?” Mom asks gently.
“No.” I sniffle. “Well, there’s Taera. I hope to hold onto her for a long while yet.”
My source smiles at me, then leans in. “Me too.”
“Me three,” Hazel says, wiping her tears away.
A shadow moves in the periphery of my vision.
My identical image stands across the room, watching me. An illusion that has long grown beyond my control. We both regard each other, but neither of us speaks. Finally, my shadow nods. Then he turns to leave, fading away.
I know this is the last time I’ll see him.