Blood. Smearing his skin. Soaking his shirt.
Chip. Crack. Shatter. The ice within is breaking. Melting. I cover my mouth. Then I reach for the knife at his ankle. Gone. Drat. With all the force I can muster, I rip open his shirt.
Oh. My. Soul.
The blackened veins are no longer secluded to his right arm. They’re crawling across his broken body, creeping beneath his bleeding skin like dozens of venomous asps. Infecting him. Killing him.
He coughs and gags. Opens his eyes. “Em, you idiot.” The insult is quarter-hearted.
My hands hover over him. I throw off my pack, remove my hoodie, and dab at the blood trickling from his lip and brow. “What do I do? How do I stop it? I’m a Mirror. There must be some way I can—”
“You can’t.” Eyelids fluttering, his body convulses and he hisses in pain. “It’s the Void,” he rasps. “They injected me with something, sent it straight into my bloodstream. I’ve never seen anything like it. It feels as if . . . it’s feeding off me. The more I fight it, the faster it spreads. I’m—my soul. I don’t have much time. You should go. I don’t know what kind of monster I’ll become when the Void takes over.”
“No.” My lip quivers. I shove childish tears away. “I don’t want to lose you.”
“Never.” Ky’s gaze holds mine as he lifts a shaky hand and sweeps my bangs to the side, fingertips tickling the skin above my right brow.
The Void is spreading up his neck now. Over his face. It will be over soon. His soul will belong to darkness.
His arm falls away, hand limp at his side.
I close my eyes, tears cascading down my cheeks in a sticky mess. “Don’t leave,” I sing against his cheek. “Don’t give up. Stay with me.” And then I press my lips to his, kissing him before he’s gone. Begging the good in him to fight against the Void. Reminding him he has something left to live for.
At once I feel a whooshing sensation, like breath expelled on a summer wind. I’m floating ten feet aboveground and drowning in my own tears. This moment is everything and nothing and I can’t explain why I feel as if I’ve found life and death, beginning and end, all in one kiss.
“A Kiss of Infinity isn’t something you decide to bestow. It comes from the deepest part of your soul. Stems from desires and emotions you may not even be aware you possess.”
Ky’s lips come to life, move against my own. His kiss carries all the force of butterfly wings. Soft. Tender.
I lift my head, blinking. The Void is retracting, slithering away, the color returning to Ky’s beaten face. But not only that, his wounds are closing, his broken skin healing before my eyes.
Did my kiss save him? Impossible.
He gulps a breath. Opens his eyes. Touches two fingers to his swollen lips. “Em, what did you do?”
“I . . . don’t know.” Except I do. “I didn’t want to lose you.” If I gave Ky a Kiss of Infinity, we’re both linked to the king now. For another week at least. I grab his hand. No time to analyze the implications. “We have to go. We have to—”
Clap. Clap. Clap.
My head jerks up.
A girl with icy-blonde hair stands in the doorframe. A ruthless smile, reminiscent of a Troll I once met, curls the corners of her lips. “My, my, my, Ky Rhyen. You have been a busy boy.”
Quinn?
THIRTY
True
I can’t believe I thought for one second she was my friend. Is everyone in my life a token in some Verity versus Void rivalry?
The doorframe around Quinn shimmers like a hologram. Was it always made of marble?
“The trick is to look for tells. No matter how strong the façade, there are always glitches—signs that what you’re seeing isn’t real.”
Oh. Crud.
Quinn retreats as if whisked backward on a moving sidewalk. The suite transforms, lengthening, widening. Carpet converts to cherrywood. Staggered quartzite bricks protrude from papered walls. Arching windows cut through as if hole punched. Marble columns support five tiers of balconied floors.
We’re centered in the throne room. Jasyn commands the marble dais before us, a high-backed chair upholstered with burgundy fabric directly behind him. A majestic celling-to-floor tapestry, featuring a Second Reflection atlas in vibrant hues, flows beyond the dais. My emotions blaze as I peer at the threads detailing every province and landmark. Blood pumps, head whirs, eyes water. This is my world now. I’ve claimed it. No turning back.
Jasyn stands there, hands folded in front of him, every bit as he was the last, and first, time I saw him—pressed suit, kind eyes, and all the arrogance of a Wall Street big shot. “Bravo, granddaughter. Marvelous performance, really. So tender. So heartfelt.”
I gawk at Ky.
He shakes his head, and his eyes go wide.
The mirrorglass blade. Where is it? I scan my periphery.
“I must say.” Jasyn descends the dais stairs, his dress shoes clapping against marble as if applauding his cleverness. “When I allowed Kyaphus to release you from the dungeon, I expected him to fall for you.” He halts on the last step. “What I did not anticipate was that you would also become so attached to him.”
We scramble to stand, Ky helping me up, placing his body protectively in front of mine. “What are you rambling on about, Crowe?” he spits, arm locked and tendered like a sword.
“Only that I needed someone to keep an eye on the girl until I was ready for her.” His attention rests on Ky. Doesn’t he know what Ky’s capable of? Why is Jasyn making eye contact without an ounce of hesitation? “Who better than one of my own to complete the task?”
And why is he talking about me in third person as if I’m not here?
“By the way,” Jasyn says with a leer, “your darling Khloe sends her regards.”
Khloe? Ky’s sister. Must be. I grasp Ky’s bicep, my vise grip begging him not to do something stupid. Like get himself killed.
His body is a pillar of energy, vehemence vibrating his being from bared teeth to pounce-ready stance. “Don’t you dare speak her name, murderer.”
“Now, now. Let us speak in a civil manner, hmm? Khloe is . . .” Jasyn pauses, as if we need the dramatic effect. “. . . just fine. I am fully aware her life has been my greatest bargaining chip when it comes to you, Kyaphus.” His gaze falls to me. “Until now.”
“Where is she? I want to see her.” Veins pop beneath the skin on Ky’s neck, on the back of his clenched hand.
“I am afraid that is not possible, but I assure you, she is being well cared for.” When Ky doesn’t relax or lower his arm, Jasyn adds, “I never do anything without cause, my boy. What purpose would killing your sister serve? When the Confine on her Calling lifts one day, I do believe she will make a fine addition to my collection. She has potential, does she not?”
One, two, three drawn-out pulses in my ear. And then . . .
Ky. Lowers. His. Arm.
There. Something glints beside a marble column twenty paces to my left. But how to reach it? I’ve had no practice. No reason to believe the Magnet within is strong enough to summon Ky’s special knife. Not sure if a knife is something I’m capable of summoning. What if I have a connection with water like Stormy, or one of the other elements Ky mentioned? Even so, I have to try. Focus. Play the notes in my mind. See them. Will the weapon into my hand. Adrenaline courses through me, pumping, rushing, surging.