But would she? She’d vowed to be my partner, and I’d promised the same. I’d become very attached to her, and he was trying to convince her to leave right in front of me. Every fiber of my being wanted to snuff this man out of existence right here, consequences be damned. But I’d given her my word that I wouldn’t harm him, a fact that chafed now that I was presented with him. In another situation I might have rolled my eyes at myself. I couldn’t just go around smiting someone I disliked, even if he was trying to run off with my wife. Not without censure from the elders, at least. But the dark thoughts rampaging inside my mind took an amount of control not to act on that I hadn’t expected. It would be so easy.
“You don’t want this,” Apollo insisted angrily, flinging an arm out to gesture at me. “I’m here to save you.”
This statement gave me pause. Was I a villain to be saved from?
She laughed, but it was mirthless and bitter-sounding. “You don’t have any idea what I want.” The anger I felt was not reflected in her words, only sadness and grief. “What I wanted was my friend—the person who I spent my childhood with, just me and him against the world. But you left me, Apollo. On purpose. Because I couldn’t return your romantic feelings.”
Now it was Apollo’s turn to flinch. And in another life I might have pitied him—been able to see past my own desires to the core of who he was: to his wants, and needs, and hurts, and failures, and loved him as a person. But not this life.
I was too tied up in my feelings for Celeste and my anger with him for anything remotely kind toward him to exist in me, at least in this moment.
Celeste wasn’t finished. She fought to keep her voice even as she spoke, but the tremor in it betrayed her. “That’s not love, Apollo.”
He opened his mouth to argue but she cut him off, the sadness in her voice slowly making way for the anger that I’d been expecting.
“Did you only remain friends with me because you hoped I would change my mind?” she asked.
“Of course, n—”
“Because that’s not friendship,” she insisted. “And what you are suggesting is heartbreaking, both for him and for me. I do love him—”
“It’s been days—” he started to argue, clearly outraged at her statement, but I could hardly hear him over my shock at her statement.
“Months, Apollo,” she interjected, finally raising her voice. “We’ve been here for months. We are married in every sense of the word, and I will not be leaving him.”
Though I’d made myself abundantly clear—at least I thought so—in my assertion that I belonged with her for eternity, other than our wedding ceremony, this was the first time she’d made such a declaration. Her words might as well have been enchanted for all the power they held over me. This strange alchemy that was love settled deep enough in my bones that even the wrath I felt toward this man began to be soothed away. He was nothing to me, but the woman seated in front of me on my wraith? She was everything.
Her voice was resigned as she finished speaking to the man in front of us. “Go home and be grateful my husband has shown the amount of restraint he has, to not repay your insult to him with something far more injurious.”
He finally caught an inkling of the danger he had placed himself in, wild eyes flashing to mine before turning his irin and retreating back the way he’d come, but I felt no satisfaction in him leaving. Instead, I wrapped my wife in a tight hug and held her to my chest as she allowed her tears to freely fall. She grieved the friendship she thought she’d had.
“I’m sorry, Doveling,” I whispered, and pressed my cheek to the top of her head once he was out of sight, only then realizing that the dwarves had turned their gawking to me, because I’d unknowingly gathered enough of my magic to have my cloak whipping about my back. I flushed as deeply as I had when Madam Helda had caught us kissing in the library and instantly released my magic so that my shadow cloak hung still and respectable from my shoulders. The younger dwarves skittered away and the older ones were suddenly much more interested in the tasks they were pretending to be doing. I sighed and waited until she’d calmed and given me a nod confirming that she was ready to continue on our way, then directed the wraith toward the center of town. Drawing it to a stop at our first Gate, I held Celeste steady as I allowed the wraith to dissipate and deposit us neatly on the ground with our belongings.
“G’day, Master Reaper,” greeted the dwarvish guard at the gate, unaware of the turmoil he’d missed just outside of town. I shouldered our bags and nodded in response, impatient to be on our way. Celeste was more composed, but her face was still tear-stained as she took in our surroundings. This Gate was much smaller than the ones I’d seen in other places, but then, Bhalden’s Post wasn’t exactly a teaming city. The stone arch, barely taller than me but with the same shimmering haze that made up the one between Faery and the Boundlands, had a wooden sign with hand-painted letters posted beside it—Amsterdam Gate: Enter at your own risk. No magic beyond this Gate!
“I’m afraid your companion won’t do well beyond the Gate, Master Reaper,” the guard said formally, before continuing in a more casual tone. “Not unless she’s part human, but I got an eye for that, I do.” He frowned at my wife, concern etched on his features. And normally, he would have been absolutely correct. A high fae in the Void would perish within a few steps without the environmental magic they needed to survive.
“Thank you for your concern, but she’s with me,” I told him, taking her wrist gently in my hand and turning her arm so that he could see my magic etched into her skin. My mark. My claim. My promise. My power. Seeing it there bolstered me almost as much as hearing her declare that she would be staying with me. She was mine, and I was hers. Darkness and light. Two halves of one whole.
So with that, I led her into the Void.
Chapter 25
Grim
Thesunwaslowin the sky when we stepped out into one of the southern suburbs of Amsterdam.
“Oh, that’s weird. I don’t like that.”
I glanced down at Celeste to find her rubbing briskly at her skin before I quickly returned to scanning the park for anything concerning. “What’s wrong?” I asked, ready to haul her back through the Gateway at the first hint of bodily harm.
She gave a full-body shudder and then placed her hand in mine. “That prickly feeling coming through there was intense. It was like I’d lost blood flow to my whole body for a moment. It’s going away now.” She shivered again. “Did you not feel it?”
I nodded once. “It happens every time.” I probably should have thought to warn her. “What else do you feel?” I asked, trying to decide if this had been a bad idea or not.
“Just strange,” she said, looking around with wide lavender eyes. “I can feel the missing magic, but it’s hard to put into words. It’s like being on a mountain when there’s not enough oxygen. My body is missing something it needs even though I’m not doing anything different. It’s uncomfortable, but I think I’ll be okay.” She didn’t seem terribly concerned as she curiously scanned the brick buildings that lined the park. “I’d heard rumors or whispers of a place like the Void, but no one ever thought it was real. Why are they all square?” she asked, peering up at the apartment blocks. “The buildings are mostly rectangles and squares even when they’re not made of brick or stone.” We started walking down the street toward the closest Metro station with Celeste peppering me with questions about the city and cars and the humans we passed.
“We’re just cutting through,” I told her when she wanted to know more about the city than I could tell her, and I saw a little bit of the sparkle die in her eyes. “I don’t know this city, but I live in one of the cities we’ll pass through,” I explained, hoping to make up for not knowing much about this one.
