Then there’s his polar opposite. Jasyn Crowe. The epitome of no and Void no.
The vessel of the Void stares at me in the same way he will decades into the future. He looks about my age, but Verity knows he’d never see me as his equal. Reflections to Jasyn, your superiority gene is showing. Might want to do something about that one if you ever want a soul to like you.
I squeeze my eyelids and turn my head to avoid his scrutinizing gaze. Technically I don’t feel any different. My mirrormark wasn’t raised like a scar. My fingertips shouldn’t feel a change. But they do. Now that I’m aware my face is bare, naked, and dare I say . . . insert dramatic pause here . . . unblemished, I can almost detect the alteration beneath the pads of my fingers. What I wished for nearly eighteen years has come true.
So why do I want to hide? It’s a repeat of the same chorus, but in reverse.
“Perhaps you should take her home, my love.”
My eyes are closed, but my other grandfather’s accent and endearing words give him away. And his scent, no different from what it will be many years from now, stale and kind of musty. Odd how aging doesn’t change everything. Nathaniel is still Nathaniel, thirty-two or one hundred and two.
“Do we dare move her in this state, amore mio? She is ill, no?” Bianca may use a symphony of terms I don’t recognize, but amore is familiar enough to translate.
Love.
The affection between my paternal grandparents should warm my heart. Instead, it pinches, leaving me with a tangible emptiness. They’re each half of one whole, and I can’t help but long for Joshua. My best friend. The one person, besides Mom, who really gets me.
I squeeze my eyes tighter, pairs of lovers scrolling through my mind. But not the famous ones like Romeo and Juliet or Beauty and the Beast. Instead, I think of Mom and Makai. Stormy and Kuna. Aidan and Ember. These represent true and lasting love. Something many authors attempt to depict but few manage to live or achieve. Love isn’t a fleeting feeling. It’s lasting. Real. Something you do. And those closest to me have shown it better than any writer ever could.
The way Makai waited for Mom all those years.
The forgiveness Kuna bestowed upon Stormy without question, followed by a sacrifice, his life for hers.
And the love Aidan had for Ember?
I peer beneath my lashes once more, zooming in on the king. Kindness radiates from his being, from his relaxed smile to his twinkling eyes. He loved his wife so much, the loss of her killed him.
Because he’s an Ever. And only a broken heart can kill an Ever.
My own heart convulses. Does Joshua wonder where I am? Is he sick with worry, desperately searching for answers regarding my disappearance?
What kind of question is that? Of course he is. I bite the inside of my cheek. Why am I so insecure? This isn’t me anymore. I know Joshua will find me.
“Always,” he promised.
Always.
I let Grandma Bianca ease me back into my chair. She presses a damp rag to my forehead and I welcome the relief. All the stress has made me break into a sweat. My blouse comes untucked from my skirt in the back, my bare skin rubbing against the itchy upholstery. Groan. Skin protests. Brain hurts. Could I lie down already?
No. I can’t. Because one thing still doesn’t make sense and I won’t rest until it does. Can’t ignore the details.
Fact: The Void enters the one who cares most for the Verity’s vessel.
Fact: Kyaphus Rhyen, not Joshua, took on the Void. I house the Verity.
I may hate Kyaphus, but he cares for me. Joshua would have me believe Kyaphus is my mortal enemy, but how can that be? Everything points to Joshua. Joshua, for all intents and purposes, should be the vessel of the Void.
It was Joshua who saved me the night Jonathan Gage tried to kidnap me from Wichgreen Village.
It’s Joshua who makes my heart do this weird flip thing when I picture his lopsided grin.
Joshua’s the one. His name on my heart feels like a breath of relief. Loving Joshua is natural. Normal.
But it’s Kyaphus who appears to love me.
Something reeks. And it’s not Nathaniel’s old-man cologne.
The apartment is way too cold. Even wrapped in wool I’m shivering to the point I’m sore. Normally this wouldn’t be my blanket of choice. Too itchy. But seeing as how it was my only choice, I couldn’t refuse. So this is what it was like to live during the forties. I’d give my mirrorglass crown for the Fifth’s desert right about now.
But is it still my crown? I would assume no mirrormark means no Verity, but test after test on the walk back reassures me the light continues to swirl within. How is it possible to have two vessels at once? Does Aidan remain the vessel with me here? He must, but then that means there are two of us. Could it be the Verity lives outside of time?
“Time is a circle. The beginning is the end, and the end is the beginning . . .”
The words of Dimitri Gérard haunt me as I consider the possibilities. As I recall the story . . .
“Once Upon a Reflection, deep in the Garden of Epoch, there shone a light lovelier than any human eye had ever beheld . . .”
No mention of the Verity being created. It simply . . . existed. It just . . . was.
Still, perhaps I only imagined I felt the light. Maybe I became so used to its presence, I didn’t notice when it was removed. Like a phantom limb or something.
No. Enough. I know it warmed my core while I sat in the midst of the Third Alliance. Feel it now as I attempt to make sense of past, present, and future.
The events from the Second haven’t happened yet. I never battled Jasyn. My coronation hasn’t taken place.
Except it has.
But now I’m in the past.
Yet I’m from the future.
For Verity’s sake, when did things become so complicated?
I turn over on the rock-hard sofa. I might as well be sleeping on the floor. But how can I complain? There are worse things than Grandma Bianca’s humble accommodations. The couch may be firm, but it’s clean. When will Makai and Tiernan grace the scene? Will my grandmother keep her eggshell decor then, or will she opt for more child-friendly colors?
Wiggling, I flip onto my back. Okay, that’s 1 percent more comfortable, so at least I’m making progress. My ears perk at each sound, straining to hear something other than the eerie quiet of the deadened night. A siren, a plane, anything that might remind me of New York and lull me to sleep. I may be getting used to dozing in other Reflections, but I still prefer the album of my childhood.
A muted creak wafts from the hall through the crack beneath the door. My breath hitches, then releases just as quickly. Probably a cat or someone headed to the neighboring apartment after cutting curfew. That’s some risky business, if you ask me. And no, I’m not going to make a Tom Cruise reference. Because this isn’t funny. What did Breckan say in her story? Shadowalkers worship the Void? My body quakes and my mouth turns down.
Sigh. I need answers. Something bigger and beyond is happening. This isn’t just about my stumble into the past. Somehow what’s going on now with the Shadowalkers is related to Jasyn Crowe. Which means it’s connected to the Void. And the Verity as well. Which brings me back to the main goal. Past, present, and future.
Destroy the Void.