I always thought I’d inherited a brown eye from Tiernan and a green eye from Mom. It wasn’t until I learned I was adopted that this changed. Still, my green eye makes me feel as if I still have a piece of her with me. The Commander’s brother may have been a sorry excuse for a dad, but the woman who loved me like her own more than made up for his shortcomings.
“My sweet boy,” she would croon. “My sweet, sweet Ky. Do not let him harden you. Always remain my tender son. Promise me.”
“I promise, Mama.” The memory has me stuffing down the Void again, but with greater force and purpose than before. I made a promise. And I keep my promises, no matter the cost.
And then she’s there, her face filling my mind. But not my mother this time.
“Find me.” Em didn’t beg or plead or cry. She simply made a statement, no question in her voice. Her faith in me shakes my core.
“Always,” I say aloud. “Always.”
Makai’s inquisitive look at the voiced assurance doesn’t faze me.
I clear my throat and think of my earlier conversation with his wife. “I gave her—Eliyana—the mark, then? It was me all along?”
His silence confirms Elizabeth’s story. Why keep this from us? Why allow Em to believe it was David?
My questions require no answers. The shame they must have felt at trading me. The lie they had to live to cover it. Sometimes, continuing in the lie is easier than revealing the truth and making amends.
We trudge uphill, wiping sweat from our brows. We stop by the river now and again, the water seeming to drain with every step. When the narrow entrance into Nitegra Compound comes into view, we make our way toward it. A hot meal and good company call to me. Just what I need before facing the unknown. I close my eyes, ready to welcome the relief.
My chest meets solid muscle. When I open my eyes I find Makai holding me back.
The Commander takes a knee to the earth and scoops up something small in his cupped palm. It’s only when he rises I see it’s a dead Fairy. At least twenty of them sprinkle the path ahead.
“She’s here.” Josh comes up beside me. I look at him, at the change in his eyes. For the briefest instant I see David there, and any doubt he is still alive dissolves.
I don’t ask who he means, as the dead Fairy is clue enough.
“Fairies don’t die,” Josh says. “They live off their queen’s power and she is immortal. The only one who can kill a Fairy is the Fairy Queen herself.”
“How do you know this?” It’s Makai who speaks.
Josh shrugs. “Gage told me. If the Fairies are dying, it can only mean one thing.”
Sober minded, we crawl through the narrow pass into the compound. No time to waste.
Isabeau is waiting.
FOURTEEN
He’s Beside Me
Here’s a thought. Let’s go after a man known for lying, kidnapping, and what else? Oh, right. Murder.
On the surface, this has bad idea written on it in double-bold Sharpie.
“A jagged surface . . .”
I know, I know. A jagged surface doesn’t always allude to what truly lies beneath. Fitting words from the one person who has always seen me as I am now.
Mirrormarkless.
Well, my Mirror may be lost, my Scrib memory failing me on so many levels, but the way back to the Grand Canal isn’t difficult. I can’t help but feel as if someone is following me, though. This whole Shadowalker thing gives me the heebie-jeebies. It doesn’t help that the man I seek becomes a Shadowalker someday too.
“Legend says the first Shadowalker began as a vessel of the Void.”
What a burden. To be charged with holding darkness so close to your own soul.
“Rather than fight against the Void, tha vessel welcomed it . . . For when tha Void’s vessel began ta love himself more than the one who held the Verity, that’s when things went south.”
And there it is. The difference between a Shadowalker and a vessel. The turning point. Breckan’s story was more akin to watching an off-Broadway play than listening to a retelling of true history. Now that I’m living it, desensitization is long gone. Joshua told me once this is the “real world.” I laughed at him then, so certain in my naïveté Joshua’s “real world” was little more than a fable.
Look who’s laughing now.
When I find Jasyn at the Grand Canal’s edge, near the same spot Grandma B and I waited for the gondola only hours ago, I tuck my hair behind my ears and step beside him.
“A girl who lacks pretense.” He stares ahead. Purple and indigo brighten the horizon on all sides, bringing my grandfather’s features into full view as dawn approaches.
Well, there is something to be said for the man who kidnapped Mom and almost killed Joshua—he aged well. The differences in his young self are scarce. Hair thicker and two shades darker. Voice smoother, deeper. Posture several inches straighter. He turns his head and muses, “A rare find in this age, but one to be treasured.”
Reflections to El. Your modernisms are showing. Heat floods my cheeks. Swallow. Blink. Breathe. “What if I told you I believe there is a way to get rid of the Void for good?”
He chuckles at his shiny brown-on-white oxfords. “I would proffer you are a guileless girl with an impossible dream.” He reaches into his blazer pocket and withdraws a small, thin object.
It’s only when he touches the rolled paper to his lips and lights the tip that I realize he has a death wish. “That stuff’ll kill you.” I try not to inhale the cancerous fumes.
“And the Void will not?” A cloud of smoke. Another chuckle.
Point taken.
“Come now, I have yet to learn your name, and here you are berating me for my vice? We do not know each other well enough for such niceties.” Sarcasm seeps from the words, but his tone remains airy. Teasing.
Jasyn . . . ahem . . . is having fun.
Who is this guy? Mom might have an aneurysm if she saw him now. Where’s his goal? His purpose? Doesn’t he care about anything? He holds the darkest power in the seven Reflections, and he’s standing here smoking and inquiring about my name?
My name.
Didn’t Bianca announce it during the Alliance meeting? I rack my brain. Come up short. No one’s asked yet, not even B. She’s called me every term in Italy but never once asked anything more personal than my shoe size. I open my mouth. Shut it. Open it once more. “Elizabeth.” Really? “My name is Elizabeth.” Why? Am I so afraid he’ll recognize Eliyana? Or perhaps I simply miss Mom.
Let’s go with that one.
“Elizabeth.” He taps his cigarette with one finger. Ash sprinkles the ground. “How very regal. Any relation to England’s princess?”
“No,” is my autoreply. Then my gears begin to work. Princess? Princess. Right. Elizabeth II didn’t become queen until the fifties, when King George died. At least that’s what I recall from the documentary we watched in World History class. I kinda had my headphones in during most of it, much preferring the stylings of Owl City and Of Monsters and Men to the droning old British guy narrating the outdated film. If I’d known I was destined to rule, I might’ve paid closer attention. At least Elizabeth II spent her life preparing for her role. I still don’t know the first thing about being queen.