The ground seemed to rise up beneath her feet and lead her deeper into the ever-thickening foliage around the edges of the stone wall, and she became so entranced by the healing, seductive energy that flowed through her here that she almost didn’t see it at first: the gap.
She felt a pang in her throat. This was it: the secret entrance Alessandra had discovered all those years ago. The stone wall was overgrown with vines and tall grass, but this tiny portion had been somehow disrupted, dug up. Crumbs of stone and dust lay mingled with the verdant mud at the base of the wall.
A strange feeling came over Corinthe. Why hadn’t any of the other Fates ever discovered this break in the wall? Why did the break exist at all? Could it be that the Unseen Ones had known of it forever … that its presence was a temptation, a test of faith to see who would obey the rules and who would break them?
Or was it possible that this, like so many other things Corinthe had encountered in the last few days, was an anomaly, an accident? Like the faulty marbles, like ripples in the river. Perhaps the great plan was made of water and not stone: it changed, flowed, and adjusted.
Corinthe touched the broken section of the wall—she knew which stones were loosest, and began to move them aside. Then she crouched down to crawl through the narrow hole.
The Gardens contained every flower, every known plant in the universe, and for a moment Corinthe was almost overwhelmed by the smell on the other side of the walclass="underline" a hot, heady, intoxicating scent of growth crowded on endless growth. A narrow rock path spiraled through the garden, down to its very center, and Corinthe followed it, her heart beating fast. She almost feared that each footstep, however quiet, might waken the Seven Sisters, send them running after her.
At last the path ended, and Corinthe found herself standing at the edge of a great grass amphitheater. At its very center grew a single purple bloom.
The Flower of Life.
The petals, exactly eight, were each as long as her forearm, extending from a pure white center. For a second, she couldn’t move. She almost felt as if she could cry again. She was here, at last, after all of her years of exile, all of her tasks, all of her trouble. This flower would save her, in its own way.
Again, the simplicity of it all struck her as somehow funny. Easy. Painless.
With the pain in her legs gone, all she could feel was the beating of her own heart. She was kneeling in front of the flower before she could register that she had moved. She was filled with a feeling bigger than joy or sorrow—an emotion so strong it renewed her strength and purpose.
She reached out and wrapped her fingers around the stem, right below the petals: the only flower that would ever grow, the only thing that could save her, here, underneath her fingers. She gasped. The flower’s pulse was so strong it almost knocked her over. She could feel her hand burning.
She would die, but it would be worth it. Because Luc would save his sister. It would be Corinthe’s gift, to thank him for what he had given her.
She had finally found something more than fate to believe in.
22
The sounds of the partiers had long ago receded as the cave faded into darkness. Luc ran. He ran for what felt like hours, though the world around him remained dark and freezing. He ran blind and yet he didn’t stumble, not even once … and despite his guilt, the path in his mind was so clear, so certain. His legs moved without any effort, and as he ran, he felt all the exhaustion and fear of the recent past sliding down his back and away. He grew stronger, fiercer, faster. It was more intense than any sprint he’d made across the soccer field.
He felt, for the first time in a long time, free.
As he ran, he thought about Jasmine. The compass grew warm in his hands. He would find a way to return it to Rhys. He shouldn’t have stolen it, but he knew, intuitively, that this would lead him to Jas.
Jasmine. When she was five, she would demand horsey rides from him for hours at a time.
When she was eight, she’d wanted to see a real live monkey at the zoo and would not stop asking until he took her to see one.
And when she was fourteen, he had finally told her the truth about their mom.
Jasmine was all he had.
He would find her.
Luc dove into the frigid river—the one that flowed in two directions at once. The river of darkness. He knew what to expect, but the feeling of drowning consumed him and, for a second, took his breath away.
But he knew how to do this. Don’t fight it. Just … feel your way. Listen. And so he listened, and inside his palm, the archer spun and spun and … finally stopped spinning. The water faded to air that was thick and humid.
Sounds trickled into his awareness. The low drone of bees. A soft gurgling he couldn’t identify.
He blinked the dizzying fog from his vision when he felt solid ground under his feet. He stood in a lush green forest, threaded with mist. Enormous trees towered above him, forming a canopy that barely allowed light to penetrate. In front of him was a clearing filled with huge flowers—just like the image Corinthe had shown him.
His mouth went dry. It had happened so fast this time.
He was here. In the Forest of the Blood Nymphs. This had to be it.
“Jas?” He called out his sister’s name, and as though in response, he heard a strange whine coming from above him—like the whine of a thousand mosquitoes. Goose bumps broke out over his arms. This world was all wrong. It was filled with growth, but it felt off, like death and decay.
He moved into the clearing, watching carefully for signs of movement, for predators that might be lurking behind the thick foliage. Nothing.
And then his heart stopped.
He almost didn’t recognize her. Her eyelids were translucent. The roots of her hair had turned blue, and her face looked tight, drawn, like that of a much older woman. Thick veins ran over her face and down her neck, covering her shoulders like spidery tattoos.
“Jas?” he whispered.
She didn’t answer. Didn’t even stir. Luc felt the pressure of a panic unlike any he had ever known. This was worse than seeing in her in the hospital—worse than the drive there, half blind, shoeless, not sure whether he would find her alive or dead.
“Hold on, Jas. I’m going to get you out of here, okay? Just hang on.” He didn’t think she could hear him, but speaking made him feel better. He pulled hard on the vines that encased her, but they almost seemed alive—they resisted him, tightening around her instantly.
He spotted a vine, thicker than the rest, that had pierced the skin of her wrist just below her jasmine tattoo. Without hesitation, Luc pulled the knife from his back pocket and slashed through it.
A horrible screeching filled the clearing. The remaining vines released her at once, and the flower began thrashing, as though it had been injured. The treetops exploded with movement and sound.
Jasmine slumped forward. He wrapped an arm around her waist, steadying her. She was unconscious, but he could feel a faint pulse in her neck. He quickly slid the knife into his belt and hefted her in his arms as though she were a child.
Somehow, he had to get Jas to the Gardens, to the flower that could save her life. Rhys hadn’t told him what to do if he managed to find his sister.
Suddenly, two creatures dropped lightly out of the trees. He stopped. Turned. Two more creatures landed soundlessly behind him.
They had to be Blood Nymphs. Their bodies were translucent, and they had flat, inhuman eyes. Luc could see the veins running with different colors under their skin, and he felt his stomach lurch.
He tried to sidestep one of them and it let out a shrill whine. The other three joined in, and soon the canopy above them was filled with the sound. Luc looked up. There were hundreds of them, massed in the trees, skittering over the branches like overgrown insects.