Her hand lifted before she even thought about it. Fingers she wasn’t sure belonged to her anymore reached for him, trembling in the light that still bled faintly from her skin. He didn’t move, didn’t dare to look up, as if afraid that raising his eyes would break the fragile miracle holding her here.
“Christian,” she whispered. Her voice was raw and fragile, but it was still hers. It vibrated in her chest and carried across the quiet night air.
He froze. Then, as if it pained him, he lifted his head.
He turned his tear-streaked face toward her, and the grief in his eyes gouged her like a hot knife. Hope flickered there, sharp and desperate, like a man on the edge of drowning after catching sight of the shore.
Christian’s lips parted, but no sound came. He just stared at her, his breath coming rough and uneven, his chest heaving as though his body couldn’t decide whether to collapse or surge forward.
Gemma swallowed hard. Every step toward him felt monumental, her body strange and new, her veins burning with the power she could finally control. But her soul, her heart—the very things that made her who she was—were the same. They were still hers.
And they ached for him.
She closed the distance, her bare feet whispering across the surface until she stood before him. Slowly and deliberately, she lowered herself to her knees so she could meet him eye to eye. Her silky, violet gown pooled around her.
Gemma raised her hand again, glowing softly, and cupped his cheek. The heat of him, the reality of him, made her throat tighten.
“I’m here,” she said, steadier this time. “I’m real.”
Christian shook his head, almost violently, as if fighting the possibility.
“Touch me,” she whispered. “You’ll see.”
His gaze flicked across her face, his eyes full of fear and desperate want. Finally, with a sound halfway between a sob and a curse, he reached out.
The moment his hand found her shoulder, the power within her body rippled like water. Christian gasped, his eyes widening. He ran his hand down her arm as if testing to make sure she was solid.
“I’m here,” she whispered again, swiping a falling tear from his cheek with her thumb.
He squeezed his eyes shut, and he broke. A sob racked his chest as he pressed his face into her palm, his tears hot against her glimmering skin. He wrapped his arms around her, dragging her against him like he might lose her if he let go for even a breath. She clung to him, feeling the way his heartbeat pounded frantic against her chest.
Nadine fell to her knees next to them and pulled them both into a hug. Her sobs shook Gemma’s core.
Imara’s watery voice roared over the murmur of voices from the crowd. “All right, that’s enough. You’ve seen her. Now go back to your tents and start praying to whatever god you choose that I don’t gut each of you in the morning.”
There was reluctance, a few lingering glances, but one by one, the people obeyed. They stepped back, whispers trailing with them as they disappeared into the shadows. Only Hawk, Imara, and Lysa remained rooted nearby. Tears flowed down Lysa’s face, and even Hawk’s good eye was glassy with tears. Imara’s chin quivered as she shifted from side to side, as if she didn’t know whether to run into Gemma’s arms or give her space.
Gemma reached out a hand to her best friend. A solitary tear ran down Imara’s cheek when she stepped forward quickly and took Gemma’s hand in hers. Hawk held Gemma’s other, and Lysa dropped to her knees next to the group, her thin arm wrapping around her brother’s shoulders.
“That was a really cruel trick you just played,” Imara tried to joke. Tears laced her voice, and the words tore at Gemma’s heart.
“I’m so sorry,” Christian choked against her neck. “I didn’t—I couldn’t—”
“It’s okay. It isn’t your fault. I’ll explain everything,” Gemma said, letting go of Hawk and Imara’s hands to take Christian’s face in hers. Nadine sat back on her feet, and Lysa’s arm fell from around Christian’s shoulders.
His hazel-green eyes—framed in red and so swollen—met hers. Her gut twisted. She’d put him through so much agony. Would he ever forgive her?
Swallowing the lump in her throat, she wiped the wetness from his cheeks. “I’d lost control, and I knew nothing could bring me back.” When his chin quivered, she added, “Not that time.” His eyes fluttered closed. “So, I made the only choice I had left and turned the power on myself to save everyone from me.”
“Then how are you back?” Hawk asked.
She kissed Christian’s forehead then stood, turning toward her friends. “BecauseIdidn’t die. Just my human body did. I finally understood what Other-Gemma meant by the world not being the cost, that I had to choose between myself and everyone else. When I met her on the other side, she explained that my human body wasn’t meant to hold these gifts. I’d had to choose to shatter what I was so that something else could survive.”
A moment of silence passed between them.
“So, does that mean you’re in control now?” Imara asked. “Are you here to stay?”
Gemma nodded then looked at Christian, who held her gaze with an unwavering stare. “I am, and I’m not going anywhere.”
