“It’s the lost Relic,” I said simply. “Now listen—you can’t hold it for long. So before you touch it, I want you to think about what your life would be like, unencumbered by your legacy. How light you would feel without your burdens. How it would feel to be free.”
“I’ve dreamed it a thousand times, demoiselle.” Sunder’s eyes went jagged. “Sometimes I can almost believe that somewhere, the boy who never learned pain actually exists.”
“He does,” I whispered. Quickly, I tugged off one of his suede gloves. My skin brushed his—sparks needled my fingertips. Sunder hissed, and moved to yank his hand away. “Don’t.”
I cradled the diamond Relic from its nest. Its power was a pull against my skin, but I slid it gently into Sunder’s palm, and curled his long fingers around it.
“Now close your eyes,” I said fiercely. “And dream about being free.”
He obeyed. His lids squeezed shut, dark lashes streaking lines of soot on his high pale cheekbones. The wind lashed higher, frothing his hair and lifting the heavy edge of his black fur coat. A chill raced along the line of his shoulders, and his emerald eyes flew open.
He cried out. The wind fell away, abruptly, so for a long moment everything hung motionless—his fine hair, the hem of his cloak, the sound of his soul being torn apart. His voice reverberated in my heart, and I held myself tight against the need to reach for him, to comfort him, to take his pain onto myself.
He collapsed to his knees. His palm unfurled. The diamond had already tasted his flesh, curling greedy around its facets. I snatched it away, swaddling it in cloth and shoving it in my pocket. But Sunder had barely noticed—he scrabbled at his coat, jerking buttons awry and tearing at his undershirt in a sudden, silent effort to reach his own skin. His clothing fell away. He put a hand to his stomach. Dull red light winked out. The timbre fell away into his hand. He ran disbelieving fingertips over the sprawl of scar tissue marring the even ridges of his abdomen.
He looked up with a sear of pain so deep it nearly broke my heart. But then his gaze cleared, that glacier of his will melting away into brittle ice. And when it shattered, I fell—fell soft and quiet toward bright mirrored certainty, fell from a distant hope toward a cool promise, fell like the moon toward the balm of a dusky horizon. He stood, and when he swept me into his arms, the world fell away from us like silk.
He kissed me like he’d never been kissed before, and I knew I would never know another kiss like his. The world narrowed to the space between our lips, our kisses stitching time away like thread. I tasted every unspoken secret on his breath, and told him all of mine, until we were light enough to float away. I curled fingertips in the soft hair at his nape, smelling like pine sap and snow. No fever. No blood. No pain.
Just Sunder.
Everything was perfect.
I tried to ignore the bitter scent of heartbreak rising on the wailing wind.
He pulled away from me at last, resting his forehead on mine. He closed his eyes, and whispered: “Oleander?”
I laughed, a little. To be loved by someone like Sunder was to be held precious against the rest of the world. I envied her, just a little.
“She went first,” I said. “We didn’t know—we didn’t know whether the rest of her would be swallowed up with the legacy. She didn’t care. She said she’d give anything, and meant it.”
“So she’s also”—Sunder rolled the word around like he wanted to relish its flavor—“free?”
“Yes.” I laughed to hide how frightened I’d been. I’d told Oleander about my encounter with Severine, and it had been she who intuited what my sister had meant:You think I wanted to steal? Steal lives? Steal powers? Once upon a time, I just wanted to feel what they felt.
It wasn’t her legacy to steal magic, Oleander had breathed, leaping to her feet.It was the Relic.
I’d been so uncertain. It had felt like murder, or suicide—I wasn’t sure which. But Oleander had insisted. I hadn’t been able to refuse the hunger on her face when she reached for the seductive eye of the diamond Relic.
And it had worked. She’d screamed on the floor as her soul released something rooted so deep, ripping it out nearly broke her. And when she’d risen, trembling, she’d torn off her elbow-length gloves and hugged me like salvation. When we took the Relic from her palm, it came away bloody.
Let me bear the scar.Ecstasy had made her whole.Let it remind me of all the things I’ve lost. And all the things I’ve now gained.
But I would let her tell Sunder all of that. Now I just wanted to gaze at him—to memorize his angular cheekbones and plush mouth. His spill of pale hair and his metal-and-gemstone eyes. The way he looked through me, finding the things I wanted to keep hidden from everyone but him.
“Demoiselle?” He lifted his hand to my chin and tilted my face toward his. I leaned into his touch, basking in the utter normalcy of it—his skin against my skin, the rasp of callous a glorious imperfection. His eyes gathered shadows. “Why are you looking at me like I’m still dying?”
“Because in a moment,” I whispered, around the blade sheathed in my throat, “I’m going to say goodbye to you.”
His hands tightened against my jaw, then slid deep into my hair. He kissed me, hot and greedy, and then again, fiercely gentle.
“And why,” he breathed against my mouth, “would you do a thing like that?”
“Because I can’t let you love me.” I drew away, tears scorching the back of my throat.
“In this, demoiselle, you cannot command me.”
“Love would make martyrs of us all.” I forced a laugh. “You and Oleander need to go home and remember how to love yourselves. And each other. And I—I need to learn how to love myself before I can ask anyone else to. I need to learn to love this city, and the mess I’ve made of it. I need to learn to love as the moon loves—bringing light to dark places without forcing the shadows to hide.”
