I nod. “Right after the horrid day that Chloe was resurrected by Dr. O, and she wished me the scariest happy birthday I’ve everheard in my life. To this day, those words still haunt me, and that says a lot considering I have to hear them once a year.”
I scan the room, taking in details that memory had mercifully blurred. Emily’s creepy dragon collection gleams in glass cabinets, their ruby eyes seeming to follow our every move. The massive painting of the faction war we hadn’t yet fought looms over the dining area like a prophecy none of us understood at the time. And it was just that, a prophecy.
And there, near the doorway, stands my younger self with Logan of yesteryear, examining that very haunted painting with the naiveté of someone who still believes they have control over their destiny.
“I remember this night,” I say, my stomach growing hot at the memory. “This was right after I discovered you were a Count—when I was still reeling from finding out that everything I thought I knew about you was a cleverly packaged lie.”
Logan winces. “Not my finest moment.”
“You had a lot of those,” I tease. “Good thing you made up for them later.”
We watch as the old version of Chloe slinks across the room toward Logan, then leans in to whisper something in his ear. The old me notices, and my face shifts from confusion to anger as Chloe punctuates whatever she’s saying with a smug, “Well done.”
“I wanted to rip her extensions out,” I mutter, the anger still surprisingly fresh after all these years. “I was already furious about your Count-sized secret, and then seeing her congratulate you like you’d just pulled off some elaborate con against me...”
“She was trying to drive a wedge between us,” Logan says, his eyes never leaving the scene. “She always knew we were stronger together than apart.”
“Smart girl,” I concede reluctantly. “Too bad she’s just as wicked as she is smart. And we’re still much stronger together than we ever were apart.”
“I’ll agree to that,” my mother is quick to add.
We watch as the past version of me storms away from Logan,seeking out Gage, who’s standing near a window, looking bored and hot. The guy turned brooding into an art form.
“Look at us,” I say softly. “So much drama, so many secrets between us, and somehow we still survived to have babies and mortgages.”
Candace drifts forward, watching us like we’re her personal reality show. Knowing her, we probably were. I get the feeling she did that a lot when it came to the entire lot of us.
“This moment,” she says, gesturing toward our past selves, “would make an excellent anchor point. Before the faction war truly escalated, before lives were lost, before everything changed for the better and the worse.”
“You can say that again.” I sigh at the thought.
Logan narrows his eyes. “Why this moment? What makes it special beyond teenage heartbreak?”
“The innocence,” Candace answers smoothly. “You still had choices, paths not yet taken.”
Something in her tone raises the hairs on the back of my neck. There’s an eagerness lurking underneath her words, a hunger I can’t quite identify.
“Do you both agree?” she presses. “To have this point in time as your anchor?”
Logan and I exchange glances. I have a feeling that whatever game my mother is playing, we’re still no closer to understanding the rules.
“I suppose this is as good a moment as any,” I say, taking another look around. “It’s so far back we may as well be at the beginning.”
Logan nods. “Better than watching Michelle try to climb me like a tree, or Lexy threatening my life at the Halloween party.”
My mother beams triumphantly. “Excellent.”
Without warning, she places her hands over our heads, her palms hovering just above our hair. A pulse of blue light emanates from her fingers and washes over us like an icy, cold wave.
“With this gesture, I create a bond of truth and righteousnessamong the three of us,” she says it loud and strong, her voice taking on a formal, almost ceremonial quality. “We are in full agreement and have graciously offered to live out our days as tributes who will have always, shall always, and will always put the holy cause of Celestra above all, even above our own lives and those of our loved ones. For it is for the greater good of all we love that Celestra shall prosper forever as a part of the Holy One’s chosen faction.”
Why does this sound less like we’re setting an anchor and more like some kind of binding celestial contract that is sealed with kisses and maybe souls?
“Do you, Skyla and Logan Oliver, agree to these terms?” Candace asks, her eyes glowing with an intensity that seems excessive for a simple time marker. But then, nothing is ever simple with my mother.
Logan looks as confused as I feel, but neither of us seems able to formulate a single word. The blue light shimmering around us isn’t just pretty to look at—it’s frozen every protest we have in our throats.
We shrug at one another, and right now, Logan looks as tired as I feel. It’s late. We have a family to get back to. And honestly, I couldn’t care less where we anchored ourselves so long as the kids are safe from Demetri’s wicked talons.
