“How long?” I croaked.
A heavy, warm hand fell onto my shoulder and gently squeezed.
When no one answered, I closed my eyes and let out a long breath. “How long?” I asked again, a frightened tremble in my voice.
That sickly magic struggled in Dad’s hands, but it was no match for a fae king. Once the last of it slid from Caelan’s temple, Cernunnos crushed it in his palms, sending a plume of black and green smoke into the air before it disappeared into nothingness.
Silence lay heavy over my living room. Caelan’s breath turned deep and even.
“Excuse me,” I said, lurching to my feet. The hand on my shoulder fell away.
A broken sob escaped me as I stumbled to the back and barely made it to the toilet before my stomach emptied.
I don’t know how long I was there, how long I was sick, or how long the words kept bouncing around inside my head.
None of it was real.
But that couldn’t be right. Some of it was real, wasn’t it?
All that time, all that effort. All those fights. When had it started going wrong?
And why didn’t I notice?
“Oh gods,” I whispered, backing away from the toilet to slump against the wall. My gaze landed on heavy, dirty work boots and slid up powerful thighs encased in worn jeans, a flannel shirt, and up to Garrett’s face.
“Go away,” I muttered.
“Is that an order?” he asked mildly.
I shut my eyes tight.
He sat down beside me. I cracked open an eye to see him adjusting his bulk to try to fit inside the bathroom. One leg was pushed up and the other was out the door, but he made it work.
“I know what you’re thinking right now,” he said, his voice low and gravely.
My sharp laugh echoed into the small space. “You can’t possibly know all the things bouncing around inside my brain.”
“You’re wondering how much of it was real.”
My lower lip wobbled, and I fought against the tears flooding my vision.
“You’re wondering if Caelan ever loved you or if you’ve been targeted all this time.” Garrett let out a heavy sigh. “You’re wondering if you wasted your time on an illusion—if Caelan ever heard the things you’ve said to him or if he’s always heard whatever Lugh wanted him to hear. What promises did you make to him? What does he think you’ve said to him?”
I held up a hand. “Stop,” I croaked.
“Close enough?” Garrett asked.
I nodded miserably.
My…Enforcer? Guard? Whatever the hell he was, Garrett opened an arm, a silent offering of support. I stared at it for a long moment before I scooted into his warmth and lay my head against my chest. He wasn’t Caelan. Hell, a few months ago we were at each other’s throats, but the blood oath we’d taken earlier told me his offer was sincere, told me he was grieving right alongside me, and that he was wondering the same things I was.
How much of it was real? How much of it was a lie?
A sob bubbled from my throat. Garrett lay a heavy hand against the back of my head. “Caelan is still down. Your father and mother are guarding him. Let it out, Evie. No matter howthis shakes out, you can’t let this turn into a cancer that eats you from the inside.”
The dam broke. My shoulders shook and hot tears flowed down my face. My throat hurt with the screams I’d been holding back, but I let them go. All the grief, all the pain, all the horror.
And when I was finished, and Garrett helped me stand and wash my face, I squared my shoulders and stared at myself in the mirror.
