Opening the door, doing as Pan wanted, felt oddly like making a deal with the devil—a mistake Jo had made once in the recreation room and had vowed never to make again. She also had no proof that Snow was even on the other side. And yet—
Her hand fell on the door latch, pushing it open.
Chapter 26
I’m Here
All at once, Jo was hit with a strong sense of déjà vu, strong enough that she had to grip the door frame against a wave of unexpected vertigo.
Whether it had been Pan’s failed attempt at comfort or a twisted mind game (Jo assumed the latter), the room was set up to be a near-perfect replica of Snow’s old room in the Society. In fact, if Jo allowed herself to pretend, she could almost be convinced that they were back there, that it still existed, that none of their trials since its destruction had happened at all, and what had once felt like prison was now a safe haven. But the small inconsistencies kept her in the present: the darkened floor beneath her feet, the black frames enclosing the art on the walls, the dim lighting and bright purple fire in the ostentatious fireplace at the center of the room.
Or the fact that, upon her first, frazzled sweep of the room, it appeared to be completely empty.
Jo instantly went on the defensive, magic pulsing in preparation for whatever mental war tactics Pan had intended to use this room for. Was it a distraction? Was she trying to use familiarity to get Jo to let her guard down?Fat chance. Even with distant memories of Snow clinging to the phantom image of this room, Jo would have no problem blowing the whole place to—
“If you have nothing to say to me, then I request you leave me to this prison in peace,” a voice, achingly familiar in a way the room could never be, broke through the tense silence and pierced right through Jo’s heart. She followed the sound to a window, just out of her line of sight, overlooking Aristonia. And standing in front of it, his back to the door and his eyes locked on the world outside, was Snow.
Jo’s magic drained away in a rush, the need to attack replaced with the need to be near him, to comfort him, to be comforted, to touch, to hold, to feel. Every inch of her reached out with the overwhelming need for him, like her very essence was begging for him to turn around, to come to her. Even as she leaned heavily against the door in momentary shock, frozen in place by the sight of him (at last,at last), the rope between them tightened and pulled. If she tried hard enough, she could lasso him up and pull him close without moving so much as a muscle.
Even more than she could see it, her eyes dragging over his form without shame, she couldfeelthe moment his magic sensed hers, the moment that rope pulled taut on his end too. She was reminded of their moment while she was in High Luana, the feeling of his presence all around her and within her, his hands over hers despite the distance. But this time, it was more potent. This time, there was no distance, and the sensation of their magics intertwining and mingling nearly took Jo’s breath away.
Snow seemed to feel it too, his back tensing before all energy seemed to drain from his shoulders, his arms wrapping around himself in a desperate kind of embrace. He hung his head and let out a shaky breath, but didn’t turn away from the window.
At first, Jo was confused, her feet finally pulling her away from the doorframe and forward, both her and her magic wondering why he wasn’t holding her yet, why they weren’t falling into each other yet, as they should be. But then Snow’s hands tightened around himself, as if he could feel her worry and hear her concern.
“My love,” Snow whispered, and his voice sounded so pained, filled with a longing that didn’t make sense. She was right here,right here. Unless. . .
To prove it to them both, Jo crossed the room in an instant, arms wrapping around Snow’s waist from behind. He felt so real under her hands, the smell of cloves and citrus and the crispness of winter filling her nose, the plane of his back sturdy against her cheek.
At first, she felt him stiffen, though whether in shock or confusion, she couldn’t tell. She just held him tighter and whispered, “I’m here.”
Snow remained quiet, though his arms loosened enough to fall to where Jo’s had settled, fingers wrapping gently around her wrists. “You can’t be,” he said, barely a whisper and filled with so much doubt and pain that Jo felt it in her own chest like a physical ache.
“But I am,” Jo insisted, pulling out of his slack grip to trace a hand up his chest and over his heart. “Can’t you feel me?”
Snow didn’t answer, one of his hands following hers and gripping tighter, more desperately at her fingers, digging his own nails into his chest. Jo let him cling, even if she could feel in the tension of his body and the weak thrum of his magic that he still didn’t believe her, like he couldn’t allow himself to, couldn’t bear it if he was wrong.
Jo was struck instantly, and in a more agonizing rush than ever before, by the state of him. What had Pan done to him? What had he seen, been put through? Had she tortured his mind with images of Jo? Had she locked him in solitude with nothing but his own thoughts for company? How long had he been alone, waiting for her? Or had he assumed she would never come back, hoped for it even, taking solace in memories and expecting them to be all he would ever have.
No more,Jo thought, both as Josephina Espinosa, the girl from the Lone Star Republic who had fallen in love with a mysterious wish granter, and as Destruction, Creation’s bonded and eternal love. Jo let the thought flow between them, hoping Snow could feel it.You will suffer no more.
Though she could feel Snow’s reluctance beneath her hands, she pulled away from him, only just long enough to gently tug on his shoulder and turn him around to face her. Jo’s breath caught in her throat at the sight of him, still so beautiful and ethereal despite the shadowed look in his eyes. He seemed to look through her, even as his gaze scanned her face, and Jo swallowed back the agony and hatred for Pan that threatened to break her focus.
With as kind and gentle a smile as she could manage, Jo lifted a hand to cup Snow’s face, thumb brushing against his cheekbone in soothing strokes. “I’m here, Snow,” she said again, grabbing one of his hands to mimic the gesture against her own cheek. “I’m right here. For real this time.”
Snow blinked once, twice, as if trying to clear his head, but the furrow of his brow never lessened and the clouded haze never left his eyes. When he tried to shake his head in disbelief, Jo trailed her hand to the back of his neck, fingers scratching at the shorter strands of his silver hair.
“This isn’t like the last time, Snow,” Jo whispered, pulling just enough to inch him down and closer, a request beneath her touch, her words. “I came for you. And I found you.” She leaned into his space, lips barely centimeters apart. “This is real, I promise.”
If she thought being in his presence had felt overwhelming, kissing him was like drowning in a sea of pure rightness, like her whole life had been in grayscale only to have watercolor bleed into every crevice at once. Even her magic seemed to rejoice, sparking both literally and metaphorically around them both as Snow’s magic swirled and fluttered in graceful counterbalance. Jo wasn’t sure how long the kiss lasted, but when she pulled away, the haze had finally lifted from Snow’s eyes.
In fact, for a long moment, he didn’t seem to know how to process the realization. Even as his other hand rose to her face, both hands cradling beneath her jaw in a reverent sort of awe, he didn’t quite seem to allow himself to believe.
When he finally spoke, it was barely above a whisper, voice rough. “You. . . It’s really you?” he asked, the last word getting caught in his throat. Jo nodded beneath his grasp, smiling as she lifted one of her hands to his own and leaned into his palm.
“It’s really me.”
“How?” Snow breathed, bottom lip trembling as much as his words. “Why?”
