“Something like what?” I said, my voice beginning to rise. “What are you talking about? And what in the seven hells does it have to do with Endymion?”
“He’s…”
“Your kintoran,” Endymion whispered.
I braced for Wymond to reprimand him, but judging by the delight on his face, he was enjoying the drama too much to object.
The churning emotions in Endymion’s eyes ensnared me so entirely that the rest of the world faded away.
“Kintoran?” I echoed, feeling the foreign word on my tongue.
He nodded. “And you are my kintora.”
“Kintora.” The word oddly comforting as I tested it out.
A small smile tugged at his lips. “Kintor is a term the ancients used for two souls who have been sewn together by the threads of fate. Translated, it meanssoulkinor, in our current language,soulmate.”
“But… it’s not the same at all. Is it?” I asked, somehow already knowing his answer.
He shook his head. “No. Kintors are not chosen; they are fated. That hole in your chest, the one that’s ached since I left—it’s yoursoul crying out for its other half. For me. It’s not ephemeral like marriage. It’s eternal once fully woven, as Kaelun explained. An unbreakable bond.”
“And why don’t you tell her how long you’ve known she was your kintora?” Wymond interjected.
“Since the summer solstice,” I breathed, knowing the truth in my marrow. The High Lord looked at me in surprise, but I ignored him. “The things I knew about you…”
His features softened as if remembering that day. “Is my secret safe with you?” he said, echoing the playful taunt he’d teased me with that night.
My lips tugged up. “You mean that you’ve fallen for me in one dance?” I recited, finishing the exchange.
“No, Little Star,” he said, going off-script. “From the first moment I laid eyes upon you.”
Chapter 59
Ashes to Ashes
The air left my lungs from his proclamation.
If I’d thought I could hear a pin drop before, then the silence that followed in the wake of his truth was so absolute that a feather would’ve been loud enough to break it.
The stunned silence was palpable. But I didn’t care. The only thing I cared about was the male that stared at me, his expression doubling down on what he’d just admitted.
“Endymion,” I breathed as warmth spread through my entire body while my mind raced to reconcile this truth with everything that had happened.
I’d known he was hiding something from me back in the Summer Court. Could feel it. Now that it was laid bare before all to see, I could feel his relief just the same, and I had to fight to stay afloat from the whirlpool of emotions trying to tug me into its undertow.
“Kaelun,” Wymond said, and I flinched from the intrusion, having forgotten where we were. “Please share with Nyleeria what would happen to them if, say, a High Lord were to sever their kintor before the weaving?”
The summer fae snapped his focus to Wymond looking stricken. “You can’t! She’d never recover.”
Wymond narrowed his eyes in warning. “Tell her.”
Kaelun’s panicked gaze darted between Endymion and me like he could see a future I couldn’t, and it had the hairs on the nape of my neck standing on end. “A kintor pair,” he began as if reciting a passage he’d memorized in school, “is never more vulnerable than before the weave has been set. The tenuous thread of magic that binds them is fragile—as are their lives. While stronger together, in this phase, magic could break the bond before it has been fully forged.” He swallowed, clearly hesitating before voicing what Wymond was practically frothing at the mouth for me to hear.
My chest stilled as I braced for his next words.
Clearing his throat before he continued, he said, “Should those threads be severed, the kintora, or kintoran, who has offered up the greatest amount of investiture—pieces of their soul—in service of strengthening those threads, will perish the instant they’ve been cut off from their other half.”
“And who would perish should their threads be severed?” Wymond prodded the summer fae.
