He brushes tendrils of hair from my face, cupping my chin tenderly. And despite the gore splattered over his skin, he is the most brilliant thing I’ve ever seen. A beauty that rends straight through my resolve, sending more tears trickling down my cheeks.
“Because I have faith in your heart, Willa. The true sort of faith only a zealot could possess.” He smiles broadly, without restraint. “Your immortality is magic of the heart, like any other. And as your heart is now mine, bound by fate and magic and love…I had faith that all it possesses is mine as well. In every world. In every lifetime.”
As if in demonstration, Niko presses a hand to the wound at his chest with a deep groan. The one at his abdomen has already begun to heal, a mangled mess of puss and scabs.
“You were not kidding about feeling all the pain of healing,” he says, his weak laugh stealing his breath. “Star above, take me home to convalesce, woman. I know how much you appreciate me on my death bed.”
“You’re too old to be such a baby, Corpsey,” I tsk, already feeling for the second star’s magic. The infinite pool that not only called me to greater things—but called me to the greatest adventure I could ever dream of: home.
The star expands in my chest, the light of hope and possibility and love filling every dark space. And this time when I fall, I don’t fall alone.
Chapter fifty-seven
A few months later
Asoft melody drifts from the atrium, and I grin, following it through our chambers to where Niko leans over the grand piano. The sight of him leaves me as breathless as it had the first time I saw him in the throne room of the Lunaedon. Thick ebony curls tumble over his forehead as his fingers dance over the keys, coaxing a beautifully haunting song from the instrument. His eyes are closed as if he needs no music, only the tempo of his own heart.
For a long moment, I simply watch him in wonder—the grace with which his body sways; the sensuous writhing of his death in the air; the lines of the song mirrored in the movements.
The music ends on a hopeful crescendo, that arrogant smirk already tugging at the corner of his mouth as he opens his eyes.“Watching me from the shadows, are we, Darling? Who’s the creep now?”
I bite back my laugh, settling instead for a mischievous hum as I slink into the atrium. The stone trees sparkle beneath the brilliant Letum sky, the candles tucked into their boughs, and trailing along their hanging vines, casting the atrium in a soft glow. “Not watching. Just inelegantly hovering.”
Now, it’s Niko’s turn to laugh. “I see we aren’t lettingthatgo any time soon.”
“I don’t let anything go, Corpsey.”
He grins, opening his arms. I settle myself on his lap, leaning into him until all I breathe is sandalwood and ice. He runs his fingers over my bare arms, the gentle touch sending shivers scattering over my skin, as he nuzzles into the juncture of my throat and shoulder.
“You look ravishing tonight,” he purrs, sliding his hands over the beaded bodice of my dress. “Like a dream come to life.”
Indeed, I spent more time than usual getting ready in preparation for our first Dreaming’s Eve as king and queen. The dress, in particular, had taken days to paint just right. The silk is the exact shades of indigo and violet as the Letum sky, the beading a whorling homage to the constellations. The back hangs open, the soft fabric creating a flowing a frame for the tattoo of our story.
“It has pockets,” I tell Niko proudly.
“For weapons or cutlery?”
“Both.” I roll my eyes. “Obviously.”
His death slithers up the bare skin of my back, and I wiggle in his lap.
“You don’t look bad yourself,” I admit.
I feel his smile against my throat. “There’s no need to bore us both with simple facts, as everyone knows I am always radiant.”
I hit him half-heartedly in the arm, laughter bubbling loudly from me as he tackles me to the piano bench to shower me in kisses. Laughter that once felt so foreign in my chest, seems to flow freely these days, like its own sort of magic. Smiles that had once felt heavy and ruined, now glow between us brighter than the second star, because in healing the island, we have begun to heal ourselves.
It is still messy, as healing always is. Old wounds still reopen at times and restitching them is always painful. The ache of growth is poignant, the stretching of new skin, the strengthening of weak muscles. And though fate may have brought us together, it is not what holds us there. It is the choosing of each other, day after day. Through the work. Through the pain.
It is in choosing love over shame.
“Niko,” I whisper when the laughter fades. “What’s next?”
The question is soft, quieted by a worry I don’t know how to explain.
“We go to Dreaming’s Eve and give our people their gift,” he replies, searching my face with his gaze. “Then we eat piles of delicious food. And definitely make fun of Tiernan for having to be saved from drowning during his latest sexual escapade.”
His death roves over us in a silent caress, as he continues, “We laugh with Sam and Adira, and lament that you now have to go all the way to the Grove to paint your terrible sunsets with him. We get roaring drunk and dance the night away.” He brushes a kiss over my lips. “And then, Willa Darling, you whisk me home before my intoxicated ribbons accidentally rot someone. Where you hopefully take entire advantage of me, like the feral woman you are.”
