At The Lament of the Fairy Queen I don’t even pause, scanning each page for the line Makai uttered. Where is it? My sister wept every time she heard the tragic tale. Even though Isabeau’s immortality seemed a fate worse than death, the phrase gave Khloe hope that death was not the end. Not for my mother. Or Kuna. Or Isaach. Or Charley.
On the tale’s final page, I’m at a loss. The quote is absent. My gaze wanders to the next story over. Only a page in length, the title is scribbled as if written in haste. The Fountain.
As in Fountain of Time? Why don’t I remember this? I read it through, my mind taking me back to a night at the Haven when Em discovered my birth mother’s Mirror Theory. When she took down those Soulless, her voice carrying across the sand to the south and the waves to the north, I knew I’d never be able to look at her the same.
Hair falls into my eyes as I shake my head and center my focus.
There once was a girl who could not die . . .
Isabeau? Perhaps this really is all connected.
She would prick her finger but never bleed. She climbed to the top of a mountain, but when she jumped, she landed in a patch of the softest grass, not a scratch to be seen. The girl tried everything. Try as she may, she could not harm her physical being . . .
This has immortality written all over it.
The girl searched far and wide for death, but it was nowhere to be found. Life was her curse. And the longer she lived, the more her heart broke into a thousand unbreakable pieces . . .
I don’t question why my mother censored most of this. Khloe hates sad stories, and this one takes the cake.
Her only hope for relief rested in the dew of a single rose. For any soul who drank from its petals would be given the chance to save one life. If she could find someone to save hers, she would be free, proving that nothing is permanent, not even life . . .
Wait, isn’t that backward? Why would my mother change the line?
To give you stupid, feeble, good-for-nothing hope, that’s why.
Let Kyaphus have his fun. Soon I’ll be the one laughing.
I slam the book shut, jump to my feet, and sprint back to the camp. Makai and Josh are exactly as I left them.
“Do not defy me, Shadowalker,” Makai says, voice escalating. “I told you—”
I grab Makai’s shoulder and gasp for a true breath. Their argument can wait.
His eyes widen and he lifts my pack from my shoulders, then sets it on the ground at our feet. “What is it? What’s happened?”
Clutching the book, I shove it toward him. “The Midnight Rose,” I pant. “It’s not exactly what Dahlia claimed. Not even close.”
Relief softens the Commander’s face. “You mean the flower is not a weapon? Drinking its dew will not cause one to slumber forever?”
I straighten and open the tome, show him my findings.
“The Midnight Rose is the Fountain of Time,” he says. “The dew from the Rose is the Fountain water. They’re one and the same.”
“We’ve been right on one thing.” I gulp another breath. “Saving Isabeau from the heartbreak she experienced is key. We stop the Void from being created, we save her.”
“Yes,” Makai says. “Except Regina claimed it would put my wife to sleep. Why?”
I shrug. “A rumor. A legend. Who knows? We’ve all had our turn at being wrong. But the answer’s been here.” I punch the book with one finger. “Right under our noses.”
“But according to the end of the story, the dew must either come from the Garden of Epoch”—the Commander rubs his chin, then stoops to knot his bootlaces—“or be replicated with another life-giving entity.”
“Ever blood.” Josh stares off into space. “So that’s what the hag was up to.” He scratches the back of his head, and I almost see David. “I put what she needed right in the palm of her hand.”
“What of the Fountain?” Makai straightens. “The ending explains . . .”
“‘Where the soul’s deepest desire meets another’s deepest need,’” I finish for him. I know the rule well. Only now am I beginning to fully grasp what my own drink of Fountain water—Rose water—really meant. Was it Isabeau that day on my ship? Couldn’t have been. The hooded stranger seemed to know my desire along with Em’s need. Who . . . ?
Elizabeth? The timeline fits. She was on her way to the Fourth, maybe the Fifth afterward? This is crazy.
Or maybe it isn’t. Maybe . . . this makes perfect sense.
“We stick to the plan then.” Makai is business as usual, failing to sense the internal. “We still remain unaware exactly what the Troll seeks. If she is not after my wife, what does she want?”
Someone to break her curse. I hate to admit it, but as much as I want the Void gone, I want Em more. We need her now more than ever.
“She’s looking for Eliyana,” I say, my tone flat. “Her deepest desire will match up with Isabeau’s greatest need. Em wants the Void gone more than anyone, and as she’s the Verity’s vessel, her intentions are the purest.”
“I still don’t want Isabeau anywhere near Elizabeth,” the Commander notes. “In case we are wrong on this once again. We are trusting a story. A story that could have been penned by the Fairy Queen herself. At this point I do not want to take any more chances than we must.”
Fair enough. “Keep Streak, Flint, and Robyn here with you.” I’d make Wren stay too, but she may be useful in getting Josh to work with us. And we need Josh. David’s soul is linked to Em’s too. We’ve a better chance at finding her with him than without him. “I’ll take the elder Song, Preacher, David, and Dahlia.”
“Streak is casting a façade over the compound now.” Makai surveys the area, in full Commander mode now. “Though I doubt a mere illusion will keep the immortal out. I will converse with Breckan and make her aware of our new findings.” He takes his leave without another word.
Josh sneers as if he’s won some sort of victory. I ignore my brother and find my “real” sibling. Khloe and Ebony, along with Tide and Stormy, prepare to go their own way. I share the new information, watching Ebony’s eyes grow with every word.
“Then this can’t wait until morning. I need to find her now.” Ebony shoulders a pack filled with new supplies. It almost topples her and Tide yanks it away, taking the burden with ease.
“Everything can always wait until morning.” I don’t say what we’re both thinking. Her existence relies on Isabeau’s. If the Void was never created, what becomes of Ebony? “We’ve all had a trying couple of days.” Has it really been forty-eight hours since Em vanished? “One more night’s sleep won’t kill us.”
Besides, I’ve yet to talk to Dahlia. She’ll probably opt to remain with Elizabeth, and I need to convince her she’ll be of more use heading out with us. Her knowledge of the Thresholds is vital to our journey. I’ll need her full report. Breckan’s got scouts combing the Reflection. One of them must have returned with news of the water levels. If I’m correct, the Thresholds are draining in a pattern, from each Reflection to the next, and all within a day of the other. I need to run it by Tide—the resident genius of the group, though he’d hardly admit to it—but I’m almost certain the Threshold in Nabka Compound will become a wormhole around sunrise. It’s a three-hour journey from here. If we set out early, we should arrive just in time to make the jump as it drains.