Looking forward to seeing Emmerick in the morning light, I reached toward my heart to grasp the skeleton key to the mirror’s cabinet.
It was missing.
Chapter 17
Emmerick
Fog ebbed at the edges of the darkness; the air around me grew still and cold. Caym approached.
To my disappointment, Elsedora hadn’t returned this afternoon. I’d pieced together our last conversation a dozen times… I held onto the memory of her dimples and freckled cheeks as I waved away cloying smoke.
She’d come to me before the sun lit the windows, assuring me of my “importance” to her. For Elsedora Lamoreaux, that was basically a proposal, and I’d sat there dumbfounded. Then I’d spewed out a vision of my future without making clear her place in it—wherever she wanted it to be. She had a seat at the hypothetical table.
My muscles burned to reach through the pane and drag myself out to reach her. If I could break through and embrace her, I’d never let Caym tear me away.
Death stirred. Whenever my thoughts drifted somewhere joyful, there he rose.
Putrid amber fog obscured my perception of space, cutting off all light and air, and happiness. I screamed into the void as long black claws sank into my shoulders.
He might break me finally.
I’d grown so damn tired.
Caym snarled in my ear, “Yes. Give in. You will die with the rest in the end anyway, child of Astros.”
I shuddered.
All hope seemed lost.
I imagined sparkling hazel eyes. Let them be the last thing I saw.
His claws dug in deeper, readying to drag me to that terrible, smoldering cave. I wouldn’t escape it this time—my fight drew close to an end. That cavern felt like Death itself. It would claim me.
A pin-sized ray of light cut through the void.
“Elsedora?” I shouted. Panic mounted, giving me one last burst of energy.
I couldn’t leave her—not without at least saying goodbye.
With all my strength, I thrashed, tearing myself from Caym’s clutches. Crying out with exertion, I flailed through the tendrils of darkness that wrapped themselves around my ethereal limbs, desperately tearing them away to free myself.
The light grew nearer, and above me, an opening formed. I could see the wood beams of my bedchamber in Luz. A familiar female voice cut through the roar of blood in my ears.
“Place the moonstones around the mirror,” she said. “Do you have the birch bark and pig’s blood?”
Two faces stared down at me through the pane.
A girl held a vial, assessing how much was in the bottle. She had dark curly hair, stunning green eyes, and a light brown complexion—a perfect blend of Krait and Sybilla.
Larkspur.
I’d spoken aloud without realizing it.
Her brows shot up as she spotted me in the mirror. “Hello, King Mattock, we are here to help,” Lark said matter-of-factly.
I shook my head. “You can’t,” I reasoned with her.
I tried to hold out a hand to stop them.
