Page 88 of The Reaping Rose

The trees are lush, the leaves green and thick. There’s not a hint of snow or frozen pine. Branches are dotted with flowers. Orange, red, and yellow break up the greenery. There’s so much color. A stark contrast to the forest surrounding my village.

Wilder pulls me in for a kiss, and I wrap my arms around his shoulders. I sigh against him. His lips send me soaring. I’m leaving, but there’s no urgency as he traces my lower lip with his tongue. As he hugs me tighter and deepens the kiss. He draws out the moment, and for a breath, we aren’t running out of time.

By the time we pull apart, my heart is thundering. I look up into his golden eyes, following the scar that carves between them. Memorizing just how long his hair is on the top of his head. The strands brush his eyebrows now. I trace every inch of him, from his strong cheekbones to the sharp points of his ears. I memorize every fleck of gold in his irises.

The beach is warm, but with the gap between us, I’m cold in every way.

Wilder holds my hand, walking me to the Arch, where Callum and Perame are securing their cloaks over their heads. They’ll have to keep their ears covered if we plan to blend in.

It’s been a long time since Fae have traveled to the Mortal Realm, so even these clothes, which we dug out of the palace’s depths, might stand out. We won’t know until we get there.

I tug on the corset that hugs my ribs. Cream lace pushes my breasts higher. The leather pants are looser than the ones the Fae wear, so they shift around uncomfortably. This outfit isn’t ideal for battle, but at least it’s better than a dress, which was the other option.

Callum hands me a cloak next. My hair is carefully braided in the same way I used to wear it on Alyssium, so the blue at the ends is hidden. I wrap the leather cloak over my shoulders and adjust my hood.

“Any word on Greer?” I ask, trying to avoid thinking about what I’m about to do.

Greer and Atlas left earlier this morning with Darvel. The Arch to Lyrichia is at the northernmost point of the territory, far from here. I’m thankful to have said those goodbyes already because I fear the one to come will be much worse.

Wilder nods. “I reached out to Darvel a few moments ago. She and Atlas are through.”

Now, all I can do is hope they made it to Lyrichia. That they didn’t get lost in between and that Lochlan will have the guidance we need. If anyone can find Malachi, it will be Greer. I trust her to be ready when I return.

Callum pulls out a dagger, and Perame holds her palm out between them. He slices deep enough to draw blood, which drips to the sand at the foot of the Arch. The realm drinks it until there is not one crimson drop on the ground at her feet, and a thin veil begins to flicker between the posts.

“It’s working.” Perame’s eyes widen as she watches the Arch.

Callum hands the dagger to Wilder, who holds my palm face up next. Through the thread, I sense his resistance. He doesn’t want to hurt me, but he won’t let anyone else do it. His cut is quick and clean, and the pain that surges through my body isn’t physical. It’s my mate’s emotions barreling into me.

I do as Perame did, clenching my fist and letting my blood drip to the ground at the foot of the Arch. Unlike hers, swallowed by the sand the moment it fell, mine steams upward into a smoky haze. It twists through the film of magic veiling the door to the Arch, and while I can’t see through it, I feel the other side.

“How long do you think it will stay open?” My gaze moves to the already crackling edges.

“Not long.” Callum frowns. “We should go.”

My chest tightens as I meet Wilder’s gaze.

Lifting onto my toes, I press a final kiss to his lips. Our fingers lace together, and I let the bind pull taut between us. I slip into the threads and envision my magic wrapping around the paths that lead to him. White starlight weaves through the binds of gold. I hold the warmth of him in my heart as I step back.

“Until the fates unwind,” I say with a sad smile that mirrors his.

“I’ll see you soon, Starfire.”

“I love you.”

“Even love can’t define how I feel for you.” Wilder’s confession is hanging fresh in my heart as Perame’s bloody palm finds mine.

Callum grabs my other hand, and we step through.

First, there is only darkness. And even if I feel Callum and Perame at my sides, I cannot see them. I can’t see anything, not even myself.

There is a black chasm around me until it begins to flush with gray, and I notice it’s not darkness at all. It is a space between places—between realms. Black veins are wound so tight that it isn’t until they loosen that my vision begins to clear.

The in-between releases us, and we step again.

The beach is gone. Saltwater air is replaced by something moldy. Borderline rancid. It’s no longer daytime, and here, the darkness is deeper than any night I’ve experienced before. The sky is clear, but there are fewer stars. The moon is a sliver of a smile in the night.

We survived the Arch, but what have we stepped into?