I’ve always been ashamed of my heart—of its desperate wants and vicious thorns—but its these same faults that have liberated us all.
I push past the crowd, not bothering to apologize, as I trip over my feet and barrel through a group of particularly harried-looking pixies. I hardly notice as the kingdom begins to chant my name—Willa Darling, Willa Darling—I have eyes only for the Carrion King.
He’s still sprawled on the ground beside Sam, Tiernan, and Marina. As I stumble toward him, my heart leaps so far into my throat, I’m sure it’ll come tumbling out of my mouth. Because at that moment, one of his fingers—those long, beautiful, tattooed fingers—twitches.
I crawl to his side, cupping his face between my palms. A sob escapes me, as the warmth of his skin sinks into mine, fresh tears springing to my eyes as the icy touch of his magic climbs from my fingertips to my arms. Lethal and perfect.
Niko’s dark lashes flutter, and his chest begins to rise with steady breaths. I lay my head on it, listening to the strong beat of his heart, it’s rhythm in time with my own. His death rises to slither over me, relief and pain wrapping over my arms, warring over my skin, binding me to him.
“Willa.” My name is a rasped prayer—an anchor back to myself in a sea of chaos. It is the path back home, and as it settles beneath my skin, the last of the inhuman magic still swirling inside me ebbs, and I am only Willa once again.
I lift my face to Niko’s, expecting to see so many things—gratitude, contrition, anger.Love.
But what I find slices through me more surely than any blade. Niko’s beautiful mouth is parted, the line between his brows deep, as he gazes at me in abject horror.
“Darling…” he gasps. “What have you done?”
Chapter forty-five
Hot pain slices through my skull the moment I open my eyes, so at odds with the icy cold of death that’s saturated my body. Every muscle, every nerve, is so cold theyburn.Abiding and deep, like no amount of warmth will ever be enough to dig it out.
I blink up at the ceiling of my own chambers, bile filling my mouth as memories of the past few days filter through me in a sickening haze.
The Indomnitus. The battle. Dying.Willa.
Her name clangs through me like a steel sword, and I sit straight up, which immediately proves to be a mistake. My head swims and something behind my eyes begins to throb, as I swallow gingerly to keep from being sick all over the duvet.
“Careful there, sir,” Sam rumbles from where he’s tucked into the armchair in the corner. “You’ve been asleep for three days.”
I blink at my friend in an attempt to urge his familiar face into clearer focus, to slow the rapidly rising beat of my heart, as I scan the room to find that Sam and I are alone. Fear spreadsthrough me, far colder than my death. Willa meddled with the fabric of the universe, allowed things into herself no human heart is made to withstand. And now, she’s not here.
“Willa,” I bark, my voice sounding like I’ve swallowed a handful of gravel.
Something flickers on Sam’s face—hesitation? Or perhaps something far worse: something closer to pity.
He shifts uncomfortably. “You should rest a while longer, sir. I’ve certainly never been brought back from the dead, but I imagine it’s quite taxing on the body.”
I narrow my eyes, and attempt to recoat my mouth with saliva. “Speak, Samuel Smeeger, or I will rot you where you sit!”
Sam’s mouth twists in annoyance, and he mutters, “There’s no need to ruin perfectly good furniture.”
“What aren’t you telling me, Sam? Where is Willa? Is she…” I can hardly bring myself to say the words. “Is she okay?”
“She’s fine, Niko, I promise,” Sam assures me. “But you aren’t. You need to rest. Willa will come later.”
But Sam is wrong about her being fine, for the simple fact that I’m here, alive and breathing, when I should be dead.
I’ve known since I murdered the Aeternalis that I was destined to die, as there was no way the kingdom’s connection to the mainland would survive on my magic. The knowledge of my fate had only been confirmed when Willa tumbled from the sky. My days, though they’ve lasted centuries, have always been numbered.
I’ve only hesitated once. When my heart had tangled around her, desperate to give her the choice she’d never been offered. And when she chose me—chose Letum—I was determined to savor every last moment with her. Like the small sliver of time was a gift from the island for all the pain I’d endured, and for the life I would give up.
I’d vowed to her that I would do everything I could to stay with her until the end of my days and keep her in her power. Vows I honored with my last breath, as the only way to transfer the magic of the island is with death—and Willa cannot die. She will be Queen of Dreams for eternity.
But now, I worry she’s welcomed something worse than dreams, worse thandeath, into her heart by bringing me back. Time is not a linear line to be redrawn—it is a pool of power all its own. It ripples and reverberates, endlessly spiraling. It’s impossible to know what has been changed, or what the price will be.
I shove the comforter to the floor and swing my feet over the side of my bed.
“Niko—”
