My heart stuttered. I turned and edged closer to Darius. He clasped my hand immediately, his grip tight, tension coiled through him. He’d launch into another attack if he thought Grump would hurt me again.
“What do you want?” Darius growled.
Hatred rolled off Grump. The way he’d screamed at me, blamed me for not going after Faas. As if I should have hunteddown the killer of a mother I never knew I had. As if I owed him vengeance when I was still trying to make sense of my own grief.
But he was the only parent I had left, the father I never had. What if he never wanted me now?
The thought cut deeper than any wound.
Grump raised his head. His eyes were red-rimmed, his face haggard. He looked like a man hollowed out from the inside.
“To apologize.” He gaze fell on me, and his voice cracked. “I’m so sorry, Alice. I was wrecked with grief. To think...” He clenched his jaw as if fighting for control. “How she died. I just wanted revenge. I needed someone to blame.”
He lowered himself to his knees. “But you’re not to blame. It was Faas’ fault, and he’s the only one that needs to pay. Can you forgive me?”
The anger I expected didn’t come. Instead, something else swelled in my chest—something complicated and heavy. He had loved her. However misguided his rage, it came from the same place as my own hollow ache.
My throat burned. I wanted to say yes. I wanted to throw my arms around him and hold on tight, to claim this piece of family I never knew I had. I’d spent my whole life on the outside looking in, aching for someone to want me.
He was my father. And I couldn’t bear to lose him.
My mother’s screams echoed in my mind, and I took a sobering breath. “I forgive you.” I clasped his hand. “I want Faas to pay too.”
His fingers tightened around mine, and something in his face broke open—relief, gratitude, grief all tangled together. He bowed his head over our joined hands, his shoulders shaking.
“Thank you,” he whispered. “Thank you.”
I didn't know what to do with this. Minutes ago he'd been screaming at me. Now he was breaking apart in my hands. My throat tightened.
Darius’ grip on my other hand loosened. When I glanced at him, the hard edge in his expression had softened. He gave me the slightest nod—not approval exactly, but something like understanding. He knew what this meant to me.
I exhaled, something in me settling. I hadn't realized how much I needed him to be okay with this.
Grump’s eyes clouded. “I don’t want to lose you to our enemies like I did your mother. We can’t always protect you. You need to learn how to protect yourself from them.”
I looked between him and Darius. Grump's tear-streaked face. Darius' bruised jaw. The blood. The tension still crackling in the air.
It seemed impossible. But so had everything else since I fell through that mirror. “How?”
“You need to learn not only how to control your magic, but wield a weapon,” he said.
My stomach dropped. A weapon? My magic wasn’t enough? Tinker Bell had never needed a weapon. She’d always told me my power would be more than enough—once I learned to control it. Had she been wrong? Or had she just been kind?
Grump released my hand. “Darius, take her to the armory.”
Darius slowly stood, and my heart lurched. He was unsteady on his feet, his face still too pale, his jaw tight with the effort of staying upright. He had almost died. He should be resting, not escorting me anywhere.
“What are you doing?” I clasped his arm, half to steady him, half to stop him. “You can barely stand.”
“Here in the Elder Dimension, the weapon chooses you. I’m taking you to find yours.” His voice was soft, but certain. He wrapped his arm around my waist, and before I could argue, his golden wings flapped out and we launched toward the cavern wall.
Stone rushed toward us. Solid. Unmoving.
“Darius, we’re going to crash!”
“Trust me, Fate.”
I squeezed my eyes shut—and felt nothing. No impact. No pain. Just a whisper of cool air against my skin.
