“Funny, Em. Better.”
I hum a little tune, getting ridiculously smiley for maybe the first time in forever. With Joshua things were more serious. We had our moments, but for the most part things were tense—intense? Nerve-racking. With him I felt forever on display, auditioning for a role I desperately wanted but that was way out of my league. And, now I see, maybe never right for me at all.
“And with me?” Ky kisses my hand.
Okay, I really need to work on that whole thought-blocking thing. But for now I respond audibly. “With you . . .” I look up and push out my lips. “With you it’s more, I don’t know . . .” I’m talking with my hands now, trying to get my thoughts out with gestures apparently. Because that helps. “It’s more . . .”
“Awesome?”
Major eye roll. “That’s not what I was going to say.”
“Sure it was. I can read your mind, remember?” He taps his temple.
We go back and forth this way the remainder of the walk, living out exactly what I couldn’t put into words.
With Ky it’s more this.
With Ky it’s more now.
With Ky it’s easier and somehow I forget everyone and everything. No worrying about the Void or the Verity. No planning or anxiety or what’s-going-to-happen-next mentality.
The closer we move to the surface, the less daunting breathing becomes. I inhale through my nose, ready for sunlight at last. Have we only been underground a day? The sweat stains on my clothes and the grime in my hair make it feel longer. I don’t need to lift an arm and sniff to know I’m in desperate want of a shower. My muscles ache and my calves burn. How much farther?
Two seconds later we round a corner and halt before a door. Not circular like in the council chamber. Not a trap like the one Zane led us through. This is plain white. And there, jagging from top to bottom, is a lightning bolt–style crack.
Ky and I exchange glances. Then he reaches forward, turns the knob, and opens the door.
On the opposite side, a decent-sized atrium awaits. Or what used to be an atrium, anyway. The aftereffects of the earthquake send chills up my spine. My jaw goes slack as we wander the wreckage. Crumbled columns. Plants smashed beneath collapsed pieces of roof. The ground is cracked and split, a fountain at the atrium’s center lopsided with its statue of a whatever-it-was facedown in the empty pool. Guardians and citizens work to clean up, a long chain of them passing debris down the line to a growing pile.
“I need to go check something. I’ll be back.” Ky kisses my hand again, then releases it. Crosses to the atrium’s other end where he passes through an archway and out of view.
Pushing my hair away from my face, I join the assembly line. Members of our crew pitch in as well. Ebony and Tide lift a lamppost. Khloe sweeps steps and beats a hanging rug. Gunner and Flint provide their best asset—brawn. They all left the chamber hours ago along with the Reflection reps. But Ky and I? We remained behind to speak with the countess privately. Our conversation plays over in my mind as I’m handed a chunk of rock. Pass it along. Take, pass, take, pass. I stare into space.
“You know what you must do?” The countess gazed through the glass, back toward us, while the man who let us in straightened chairs.
Ky assisted him, the task nothing for him compared to the wheezing little man. “We need to learn more about this woman,” he said. “The first vessel of the Verity. Is there anyone alive who may know her whereabouts?”
“There is one woman.” Face turned toward her shoulder and eyes closed, she spoke in a low voice. “A woman by the name of Dahlia Moon. Isaach told me of her. She resides in the Fifth and may be of some use to you.” She crossed to Ky and pressed a small square of paper into his hand.
He stopped where he stood, pocketing the paper without a peek at its contents. “An Ever?”
“Oof!” The little man, who continued to shuffle about the table, rammed into Ky.
Ky stepped back while the man turned up his nose, adjusted his toga, and scooted out the door.
Weird little fella. Never said a word. Very odd.
Once the door clicked closed, the countess nodded. “An Ever indeed. Hard to find one who’s lived so long. Keeps to herself. Or so I hear.”
I wrinkled my nose. She hears a lot. How do we know she can be trusted?
“Because we’re not dead,” Ky thought.
Touché.
“Hey, earth to butterfly.”
I blink. Look left. Right. The line has dispersed, everyone having gone off to attend to another project.
Charley waves her hand in front of my face. Shakes her head. Hitches a thumb over her shoulder. “We could use you down at Kaide Agi Marketplace. You in?”
Chin lifted I say, “Definitely.”
The next several hours are comprised of picking up the pieces of this Reflection. Sonsosk Palace atrium is just the beginning. The city is in shambles. All caved-in roofs and eroded walkways. Funny, but this is the first time since my coronation I actually feel like a queen. As if I’m doing something worthwhile. The cloudless sky offers no respite, the sun beating down, drawing moisture from my skin. I’m parched. Ready to fall over. But I can’t stop smiling.
This is what being queen is all about. Not endless hours in a stuffy castle with servants waiting on me hand and foot. Ruling is about serving. About community and friendship.
I could get used to this.
When the sunset flourishes the ocean horizon, orange melting into indigo, everyone calls it quits for the day. Most head back toward the city center, where word has spread a huge feast awaits anyone who pitched in. But I’m too peopled out, and I long for a moment of solace. I slip away, down the abandoned streets, picking my way to the beach.
In the distance I can make out the faint echo of dance music, and I almost turn around. But then I cross the island’s main road—marked by a crooked beechwood sign as Tecre Thruway. When my shoes meet sand and the spray of the sea coos its welcome, I transform from anxious to calm. Once I’m positive I’m 100 percent alone, I shift. Shed my clothes. Spread my wings. The freedom feels natural. As if I’ve spent my entire life switching between butterfly and girl.
Flit, flutter, flee. First I glide high above the Fourth—above Atlantis. I haven’t had a chance to study the map in Dimitri’s journal properly yet. Still, I glimpse landmarks my Scrib memory recalls from a glance at that page. The strange, almost unpronounceable names ascribed to everything. The five islands surrounding the main one. The bays spilling into the larger seas to the north and south. The canals running through the cities. I adore New York and the Second is something else, but if I had to choose another Reflection as my favorite? The Fourth would suit me quite nicely. Something is so freeing about a place surrounded by ocean.
Maybe it’s even more like Manhattan than I first realized.
Next I swoop low over the water, my reflection bouncing in the waves. It’s the first chance I’ve had to really observe my Mask form. To take in every curve and color. Strange. Somehow I look like me. My mirrormark is intact, twisting and climbing over my right wing. The edges of my wings are a deep bluish-purple, like the ends of my hair now that my dye has faded.
Part of me wants to remain this way forever. Make the escape permanent. Could I? Would anyone notice my absence?
In the past I wondered as much. Wondered if anyone aside from Mom would miss me if I simply disappeared. But now I know better. I’ve touched others as they have touched me. Not just the expected like Mom or Ky or Joshua, but the unexpected as well. Reggie. Stormy. Makai. Ebony. Khloe. They all care. And I couldn’t leave them behind. I’d never be the same.