Unraveling Read online

  Wren arrives beside me. “Maybe he’s out of town.” The slight lilt in her voice tells me she’s joking, but this does nothing to ease my apprehension.

  “Natha—”

  A creak sounds from the floor above, and Wren and I look up in unison. Two more creaks follow, continued by a scuffle, a cough, and another creak.

  Nathaniel appears at the top of the stairs. His squinted expression portrays annoyance, but then he rubs his spectacles on his robe and blinks. Now his face softens, the hard lines smoothing. He does not smile, but I know this man well. For him this is a smile.

  “Joshua, my boy. To what do I owe this pleasure?” His accent is the same as ever. I always found it odd as a child. It was not until I spent time in the Third that I discovered the way he speaks is common for those from overseas. A British accent, they call it.

  He hobbles down the stairs, clutching the refinished railing as if his life depends on it. When he meets me at the bottom, we embrace. He was not able to attend the coronation, the return to the castle so soon after Crowe’s expiration too much for his aged bones.

  After a few good hacks he says, “Come in. Come in.” He meanders into the room to my left and Wren and I follow. “Forgive me for the mess. I was not expecting visitors.” A cloud of dust rises when he plops into an armchair. “Nice to see you as well, Miss Song. How is your father, my old apprentice?”

  “As good as can be expected.” Wren folds her arms and leans against the frame separating this room from the foyer. “He keeps busy as a trome-visiting Physic these days.”

  “Very good,” Nathaniel says. “Taught Wade everything he knows. A fine Physic, that man.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  I place my hand on Nathaniel’s shoulder. “I wish you would reconsider my offer and come live in the castle. There is no reason for you to remain here. We have plenty of room and you would be well cared for. You could be near me and Makai and Elizabeth and El. No traveling back and forth—”

  “Bah.” He waves a hand. “I have no need for servants or pampering. It was time for me to be done with all the brouhaha. I have lived here many years and manage just fine on my own. Besides, I like it on the island. It’s quiet.”

  I shake my head and kneel before the fireplace across from him, stacking logs in a crisscross fashion the way Makai taught me when I was eight.

  “So, what brings you to my humble abode?”

  “I came to seek your knowledge.” I grab some parchment from a nearby stack, crumple it, and stuff it here and there among the logs. “I suppose you may have noticed your Physic abilities have ceased?” I glance back at him.

  He rubs his chin. “Indeed. Just the other day I cut my finger on a paring knife. What should have been a simple repair required salve and a bandage. Very odd. Then again, I am old and weak and tired. Tell me, what is the latest on the mainland?”

  I find the matches on top of the mantel and light the fire. The draft from the chimney challenges the flames, but after a few tries the parchment begins to crackle. I relay the events of El’s coronation, sharing the details of our run-in with Gage and Isabeau. I explain Kuna’s death and my failure to save him. “Even El’s Mirror song had no effect.”

  “I see.” He sneezes and rubs his nose. “And Makai and his bride?”

  I fill him in.

  Nathaniel steeples his fingers and presses them to his lips. He closes his eyes and now I know to wait. This is what he does when he’s thinking. He runs everything through his brilliant mind and pieces details together, making connections before coming up with possible answers or solutions.

  At last he releases a long, phlegmy exhale. “Continue, please.”

  I glance at Wren. She offers the slightest nod and for some reason this relieves my fear. It’s as if she’s saying, “I’m here. I support you.” So I continue. “The Threshold at Dawn Lake. It appears to be . . . draining.”

  Nathaniel’s eyebrows arch, but his eyes remain closed. “Is it, now? How very interesting. Yes, how interesting indeed.”

  I rock back on my heels and rise, wiping soot from my palms onto my thighs. “You know something. I knew you would.”

  “I can but speculate. Such a situation has never occurred in the history of the Reflections. That we are aware of, anyway.”

  Wren straightens and moves farther into the room.

  I gaze down at my adoptive father.

  The fire is ablaze now and the orange light reflects off his spectacles. “The Void. How are you handling it?”

  My heartbeat halts. He knows, but how? I haven’t told anyone, not even Makai. My gaze shifts to Wren as sweat beads on my temples. I expect to find a disgusted glare. Instead I recognize the look she gives as sympathy. I roll up my sleeve, flex and clench my right hand. “It was stagnant for a while, but recently it has begun to spread.”

  “I see. The day of the coronation?”

  I nod.

  “Interesting.” Now he opens his eyes and slowly turns his attention to me. “When Eliyana took on the Verity, am I correct in assuming the burden of the Void did not fall solely to you?”

  Neck pulsing, I swallow and relent. “Yes.”

  “Kyaphus took on half?”

  My pulse is in my ears now. “Yes.” I hesitate before relaying the next bit, but finally add, “He and El shared a Kiss of Infinity shortly before.” Might as well get it all out in the open.

  “And I suppose you believe because the Void enters the one the Verity’s vessel cares for most, Eliyana cares for you both equally?”

  My stomach clenches. “Yes.” Except, not quite. Otherwise she’d have given us both a Kiss of Infinity. But I can’t bring myself to admit this part out loud.

  “Interesting theory,” he muses. “Any idea where it came from?”

  His question makes me cock my head. Is he being rhetorical on purpose? “The Reflection Chronicles. Where else?”

  “And in exactly which volume did you find this information?”

  I scan my thoughts, racking my memories for an answer. When I can find none I admit, “I never actually read it. It is common knowledge.” Correct?

  “And therein lies the problem.” Excitement tremors his voice. “Relying on word of mouth rather than going to the source yourself.”

  My brain illuminates. How could I have been so careless? Why didn’t I research more? Why didn’t I search beyond the volumes in my study?

  “The truth is,” Nathaniel says, “it is precisely the opposite. The Void does not enter the one the Verity’s vessel loves most. No, no. The Void inhabits the one—or ones in this case—who cares most for the one who retains the Verity.”

  Of course. El may not have given us both a Kiss of Infinity, but we each gave her one.

  Wren snorts and when I look at her she rolls her eyes. “Of course she’d have two guys in love with her.”

  My lips flatten and I scratch the back of my head. She is not El’s biggest fan, and the blame for that falls to me. Will Wren ever forgive me for what happened between us four years ago? She can hold a grudge better than anyone. At some point I hope she can let it go.

  “It is more complicated, Miss Song,” Nathaniel says. “I knew someday it would come to this. I knew eventually I would be forced to explain.” With a groan he rises from the chair and looks me square in the face.

  Whatever comes next, the seriousness in his stare tells me I’m ill prepared for it.

  “Joshua,” he says. “Kyaphus Rhyen is your twin brother.”

  FIFTEEN

  Turn

  You saved me?!”

  Ebony’s shrill whisper—if such a thing exists—plunges a dose of oxygen into my chest. Is it a question? A statement? An accusation? With her, I never can tell.

  My eyelids snap open. I’m lying on my back. My lungs expand and I breathe deep. Gasp. Cough. Choke. Gulp. Moonlight spills through the bay window at the other end of my suite. The chandelier above rattles and the drapes between my bedposts tremble. The earthquake seems to be ongoing,
but the force of it is much less abrupt so high aboveground.

  “Why would you do that?” She’s standing above me now, hands on her hips and toe tapping. Doesn’t she know any other way to stand?

  I sit up, rub the back of my head. “Good question,” I rasp.

  She reaches down and helps me rise. “We didn’t even exchange a Kiss of Accord. You basically just gave me a get-out-of-jail-free card.”

  I scowl. “So leave then. Pass go. Collect two hundred dollars. Take the whole flippin’ bank, for all I care.” I turn my back on her, pace to the window, and cross my arms. I’m boiling, bubbling over with no way to lower the heat. I have more important things to worry about than Ebony Archer.

  What’s happening to me?

  Why was mirror walking . . . painful?

  Why do I feel drained and weak and ready to sleep for a hundred years after traveling such a short distance?

  Verity, where are you? Where’s your soothing calm? Why can’t I feel you? Did you abandon me?

  Shuddering from the hollowness within, I gaze out over the Second. My suite is in the same wing as Stormy’s and I can just make out Dawn Lake from here, or the lack thereof. The ice is broken, bobbing about in chunks across the shallow water. Makai was right. The Threshold is draining. But why? My mind is a spinning record. Too many tracks. They tell a story, but they’re out of order. What’s the pattern, the rhythm to this album?

  Ebony appears beside me. She mirrors my body language and I make a point to let my arms rest at my sides. We are not alike. No. Not at all. Nuh-uh.

  “I should leave.” She just stands there.

  I hurl a sideways glare. “So leave.”

  “I will.” She doesn’t budge.

  “Fine.”

  “Bye.”

  “Bye.”

  Five minutes pass. Neither of us moves.

  “You stay then.” I push past her, making a point to bump her shoulder as I do. When I flop onto my bed, I bury my face in my pillow and scream. It’s all of three seconds before I hear the creak of the wood floor, the click of the door to the hall, and the rattle as it slams closed.

  I turn on my side and hug my middle.

  Should’ve known better than to turn to a traitor for help.

  In my sleep I toss and turn. Throw the covers off. Drag them back on. My pillow is on the floor and the sheets are twisted around my legs. My dry mouth and throat beg for water, but my body is lead and I can’t bring myself to get up.

  Wretched nightmares.

  “El, come on, you’ve been in here all day.” Joshua’s shadow blocks the lamplight, casting a gray film over my work space in the back of the library.

  My brows pinch and I subdue the annoyance begging to grunt from my throat. I don’t look up from the book laid out on the table in front of me. I skim my notes, trying to make sense of what I’ve found. My eyes are dry and itchy. My nose runny from the dust in the air. But my obsession—er, interest?—takes precedence. Where was I? Oh yes. Here. According to this author, the earliest record of the Void dates back to—

  A hand reaches out. Snatches the book away. Tosses it onto an empty chair. “Enough is enough,” Joshua says. “It’s the first day of First Month. We should pause and celebrate.”

  I want to ask him what we have to celebrate when the Void is still alive and well. When it isn’t destroyed—not really—it’s always hurting someone even if it’s not hurting everyone. Is it so easy to forget another’s pain as long as it’s not your own? How can Joshua ignore it? The Verity within keeps me calm, quelling whatever darkness I might feel from Ky. Does it keep Joshua at peace too? I’m still not quite clear on how this triangle-soul-connection thing even works.

  I pick up my pen and scribble in the margin of my notes:

  research soul links (also see Kiss of Infinity)

  Joshua takes my writing hand, removes the pen, and kisses each finger soft and slow.

  Breaths cease. Time? What is that?

  He kneels and that crooked grin of his surfaces, making it impossible not to return the gesture. “One hour?” He lifts a brow. “I only ask for sixty minutes of the future queen’s time and then I promise, on my honor as interim king, I will return you to your task.” Now his eyebrows wag. “It’ll be worth it, I guarantee.”

  This. This is the Joshua I remember. The one I’ve hardly glimpsed since arriving in the Second. How can I miss an opportunity to spend a moment with the boy I fell in love with? The one I was afraid, for a spell, had disappeared altogether?

  I sigh. Blush. Defenses down. “One hour.” He helps me stand and our hands remain connected. “This had better be good.”

  “Oh, it will be.” He winks then. Of course he does.

  Outside it’s freezing, like ice-cubes-sliding-down-my-bones-and-turning-my-blood-reptilian cold. New York wasn’t this frigid, not even close. No, this is a whole new level of frostbite. My entire body quakes as we crunch through the snow toward the castle stables—the same stables Ky and I escaped through in November. The memory wraps me with an unwarranted chill and I shiver it away. Should’ve brought my coat. How is Joshua not an icicle in his meager long-sleeved button-down?

  “Don’t worry,” he says as if reading my arctic brain. “You’ll be warm soon.”

  Teeth chattering, I pick up my pace to match his longer stride. One of his steps is three of my hobbit ones. At the stables, which are U-shaped with their own sort of courtyard at the heart, I stop. Lively, Celtic-feeling music with an urban flair wafts through the entry arch. I glance up at Joshua. It’s city meets country, a Manhattan-slash-Second Reflection mash-up. Most days I wonder if he’s forgotten me—us. But then a pinprick of sunlight beams and I see . . .

  He knows me all too well.

  When we enter the courtyard, winter fades. Large space heaters are stationed throughout, and a bonfire blazes at the center where Reggie roasts marshmallows bigger than my fist. Couples skip and dance. Children race and tag and tumble. Band members play and slap their knees. Horses whinny and nod. A triple-row horse-drawn sleigh waits to one side where passengers board. There’s even a mini ice rink in the far southern corner. It’s like a Fairy tale come to life.

  “This is all for me?” My jaw won’t stay closed.

  Joshua chuckles. The sound has always teetered between an old man’s laugh and a child’s giggle. “It is tradition to ring in the New Year with a small gathering of family and friends. With a little light in the darkest of seasons. You will officially be our queen in less than a month. I thought it only fitting to amp the festivities up a notch and add a few of your favorite things.” He releases my hand and offers his arm.

  I link mine through his, let him lead me toward the fire. My insides thaw and the Verity washes me with serenity. What was I so worried about? I almost can’t remember why I’ve kept myself holed up in the library. Life is here and now. How have I allowed myself to miss it?

  Joshua twirls me around and around, the perfect gentleman. He knows every step and sway, never faltering or missing a beat. Everything about him is methodical and planned. Purposeful. He knows each move before he makes it, each word before it’s uttered.

  With Joshua I am safe. With Joshua I am home.

  Reggie’s deep laugh rises over the crackling fire. Mom and Makai join in the dancing, her smile brighter than a full moon. When the music slows, Joshua intertwines his fingers with mine once more and takes me to a stall where his white stallion (because, why not?) Champion waits, saddled and ready.

  Joshua lifts me onto the back of the saddle, then mounts. I wrap my arms around his waist, inhaling his warmth and spice and all things Joshua. When we’ve cleared the stables, Champion transitions from a trot into a gallop. I hold fast to my knight on a white horse as we circle the castle. He’s quiet until we halt near the rose garden.

  That’s when I stop breathing. Because holy Verity, how is this possible?

  What was dead under Jasyn’s rule has now burst to life. Vibrant roses bloom everywhere, a maze of cr
imson and scarlet. Joshua dismounts, then helps me do the same, leading me along the rosebush-guarded path until we reach a marble bench at the center. And there, sitting on the bench, atop a pillow embroidered with purple thread, is the white gold, diamond-studded band I returned to him weeks ago. The one that hung from my necklace chain like an anvil. The one I asked him to keep until I was ready to wear it for real.

  I guess he thinks a month is ample time to wait to re-propose.

  How can I disappoint him? How do I tell him I’m still not ready?

  My heart. Oh, my stupid, unsure heart.

  I know the answer, but I won’t admit it aloud. Instead of A Tale of Two Cities, it’s a tale of two boys—men. But I have to believe my feelings for Ky stem only from wanting to save him as he saved me. That’s why I gave him a Kiss of Infinity. Because I didn’t want him to die. That’s why I search for a way to end the Void now. Because it’s not fair he’s taken on such darkness only to live with it, alone, while I act out my light and fluffy happily ever after.

  Guilty much?

  “El,” Joshua says, oblivious to my internal dilemma. “I think you know why I’ve brought you here.”

  I swallow hard past the boulder in my throat. No need to panic. Cold feet are uncalled for. I expected this, even if later rather than sooner.

  Joshua tilts my chin up and kisses me. The Verity dances, swirling and twirling around my pitter-pattering heart, weaving in and out of my soul. Why was I worried again?

  “Cheer up, sleepy Jean,” Joshua sings in my ear, rocking me back and forth. He’s the bluebird’s wings I hide beneath. The six o’clock alarm that never rings.

  I stir in my sleep, the memory begging to end there. Where it was good and perfect and right. But of course it doesn’t.

  Before Joshua can get to his knees to ask for my hand, I’m on the ground. Aching, crying, and I don’t know why. It’s as if I’m being burned, seared to my core. What feels like a knife slitting my jaw forces a yelp from my lips.

  Joshua joins me where I kneel, his face a contorted mess. My pain is his. And what’s worse? There’s no denying where my pain stems from.