He was a child when he bestowed it. Would he still have chosen me those years later had that been the first time we met? I’m still unsure about the logistics. What truly lies behind such a kiss? Beneath that deepest part of a person, that place in his heart of hearts he may not know exists?
All the more reason to hurry back to the library. There must be something in one of those books to help me solve this puzzle. Question upon question began to surface after Jasyn’s demise. If the Void enters the one the Verity’s vessel cares for most, why didn’t it enter Joshua, or even Mom, for that matter? Who gave the first Kiss of Infinity? Where did the Void originate? It must have had a beginning, right? And where there is a beginning, there must also be an end.
When Joshua reaches me I open my mouth to tell him I’m calling it a night, but he presses a warm finger to my parted lips. Heat spreads through my core. But it’s not from the Verity. No, this is what I have officially dubbed “the Joshua Effect,” a.k.a. going weak in the knees anytime I think he’s going to kiss me.
Because as much as it kills me, I still don’t know if I returned his Kiss of Infinity. I do like kissing him though. A lot.
But of course his lips don’t brush mine as I wish they would. As open as he’s been with me recently, Joshua is still a very private person. PDA isn’t his thing. No big deal. It’s not like laying one on me in front of the entire Reflection would help me be sure of his love.
Then again, it wouldn’t hurt either.
He lowers his finger and smiles.
“Thank you for this. It was perfect.” I don’t bother to hide my less-than-graceful yawn.
“The night has not yet ended.” He turns and claps his hands. The chatter hushes almost instantly. The ease with which he commands a room will never cease to leave my jaw slack. Is this the easygoing boy I fell for in my backyard what seems like so long ago? He’s a common Edmond Dantès turned noble Count of Monte Cristo. Will I ever gain such confidence, such presence?
“Thank you all once again for attending this extraordinary occasion. You honor your queen.”
Unexpected irritation pinches. I squint at his back. Shouldn’t I be the one thanking everyone? Why does he feel the need to speak for me? I’m queen now. And I’m standing right here.
My expression softens. Whoa. Where did that come from? I haven’t felt such anger—no, I haven’t felt any anger since taking on the Verity. Any negative emotion—darkness—that has attempted to surface has been quashed by the light. I gulp. Ignore it. It’s a fluke. A glitch. I’m just exhausted, overwhelmed by it all. Everything will be fine in the morning.
“. . . It is a tradition that has been passed down for generations . . .”
Blink, blink. Breathe. What’s Joshua saying?
“. . . The previous Verity’s vessel always bestows a gift upon the new . . .”
My vision blurs. Stomach churns. The crown upon my brow feels a million pounds heavier.
“. . . sought a unique gift. A priceless token . . .”
This is it. I’m going to pass out. My first day as queen and everyone is going to see me as weak. Fragile. Opposite of royal.
“El, did you hear me?” Joshua’s low tenor comes at me as if from far away.
My mouth is so dry, but I manage, “Huh?” Huh? Could I be any less regal? I am so botching this.
His jaw flexes and I catch a hint of the stern, cold Joshua I saw in the Forest of Night last November—er, I mean, Eleventh Month. He glances between me and the guests. The guests and me. “Will you play with me?” He lists his head toward the baby grand piano situated beside the quartet.
The fog clears. Joshua and I haven’t played music together in too long. We’ve been so busy saving the Second and then getting things back to normal, leisure has been put on the back burner.
Tears well and I blink them away as he leads me to the piano. He pulls out the bench and I scoop my gown beneath me. Sit. My bare feet are visible now, but I couldn’t care less. The ivories are slick against my fingertips. For the first time in a long time, I feel at home.
Joshua grabs his guitar from a stand behind the piano, then slips the strap over his head and strums in the same beat. When he begins a tune I’m oh so familiar with, my heart soars. It’s a duet I’ve always wanted to play together but never dared request.
I know the chords by heart and soul, have played them solo dozens of times. My fingers dance along the keys with a grace my two left feet could never muster. Accompanied by guitar the song is fuller, richer than I’ve ever experienced live. We play the instrumental tune once through before our voices join in at the chorus. The lyrics to “I See the Light” from Tangled hold new meaning now. Singing of truth and light and seeing with new eyes. The perfect Verity song. This moment should be flawless. An untainted reflection of our love.
Then why does the churning in my gut return? Why does something feel off?
I trip over my next lyric, then forget the following line altogether. I play the wrong key, then go off-key. I clear my throat. Try again. Fail.
What in the Reflections is wrong with me?
That’s when I hear it. A new melody. Haunting. Floating across the waves of my brain like “The Music of the Night” from The Phantom of the Opera. It could be that song, but it isn’t. It’s like every song and no song. Familiar and foreign. Strange and new and thrilling and I have to play it, have to get it out of my head and hear it for real.
A throat clears.
My head whips up.
Oh no.
Joshua stares at me, hurt residing in his clouded blue eyes. His mouth is turned down and I have the urge to kiss him there. To turn that frown upright again. To apologize for ruining his precious gift.
I feel the gapes boring into me from every angle. I don’t have to see their faces to know what they’re thinking.
Disappointment.
Phony.
Imposter.
But I don’t have a chance to face them. To apologize for screwing up as usual.
Pop, pop, pop. Glass shatters.
Gasp. A woman screams.
Rip. A baby cries.
This. Cannot. Be. Happening. Not today. I’m on the ground. Beneath the piano bench. Hands clasped over the back of my head. Joshua is here, covering me. It takes all of one, two, three seconds to push him off. To find my footing. To rise.
I am queen. The vessel of the Verity. I will not allow my past mistakes to define my future decisions. I will not cower like the helpless girl I once was.
A cluster of Guardians has formed a barrier around us. Backs toward us. Weapons at the ready.
I whirl. Jump. Crouch to see something. Anything. The source. Where is it? If this is an attack, it serves to reason there are attackers—