Their pleasure bleeds into our bond, the echoes driving all of us mad with need until we’re a perfect mess of satiated naked limbs on this ridiculously large cloud bed. I could rest here for an eternity, but there’s one more thing I have to do, after making “floof” the official word of the realm.
And it’s perhaps the most important thing of all.
Chapter Forty Two
Daphne
The mirror sits against the wall, waiting, hoping, but expecting to be forgotten.
I could never. I would have torn the realm apart, but I didn’t need to. The false Idol with mirrored eyes could never hope to compete with my cracked mirror man. I kneel before it and slide the shard from my pocket in a whisper of fabric. This needs to work. It has to.
I find the empty space and hold my breath while pressing the piece into it. “Time to make you whole, my friend.”
Silver light flares from the new piece before spreading and sealing the gaps, knitting the surface back together. With eachslice that heals, my heart swells with hope until I’m looking at a perfect mirror image of myself, no longer distorted. I lean my hand against it, close my eyes, and bow my head.
“Mirror, mirror, on the wall, who is the fairest of them all?”
The words soak beneath the surface, and a warm hand encompasses mine. Tears spill down my cheeks as I lift my head and meet the stunning face of my friend. Whole. No cracks. No missing pieces. No distance. Just Eron, exactly as he was always meant to be.
He steps through the mirror and tackles me to the floor, wrapping me in his arms so tightly I wheeze. “You reckless, radiant menace,” he says against my hair, his voice thick. “Do you have any idea what you put me through?”
I laugh through my tears and hold him tighter. “Probably less than what you put me through with all the brooding and dramatic exits.”
He leans back, keeping his hands on my shoulders as if he needs proof that I am solid and here. “You put yourself in danger again.”
“It appears I like to keep things interesting.”
He makes a strangled sound that might be a laugh and might be despair. With Eron, it’s often both. He searches my face, cataloguing every part of me, and then softens with something deep and aching. “You made me whole.”
“I keep my promises.”
“And now you’ve made me unbearably emotional.” He presses a hand to his chest. “I hope you’re pleased with yourself.”
“Immensely.”
A watery laugh escapes him. He cups my face with both hands and presses his forehead to mine. “You brought me back to myself and gave the realm its freedom all in the same breath. Fairest Daphne, deliberate disaster, breaker of endings and mender of mirrors… there has never been anyone like you.”
My throat tightens. “You’re really here and whole.”
“I am.” He glances at the restored surface of the mirror, then back to me. “Though I admit, stepping through myself was a bold choice. I could have made a grander entrance.”
I snort. “You tackled me to the floor. It felt on-brand.”
He smiles at that, and his expression gentles. “What happens now?”
The question settles between us, simple and enormous.
Now there is no path laid out for us. No script waiting to be followed. No Idol above us deciding where we go, who we become, or what we lose to earn a happy ending. Just choices. Risks. Mess. Hope.
I think of Gwyneth in Charming’s arms, of my knights waiting for me in the corridor, of Genie blinking at the shape of a future that belongs to him now. I think of Stan’s tears, of the crumbling temple, of the way the world looked when the chains broke.
I smile and squeeze his hands.
“Now,” I tell him, “we live.”
His answering smile is soft and real and free. “Sounds dangerous.”
“It probably is.”
