Evie
Nura Sage was hugging Gideon so tightly and fiercely that Evie was certain her brother would never escape their mother’s clutches.
It had been agreed, upon their return, that they would wait until Lyssa woke in the morning before breaking the news. The poor girl needed at least one good night’s sleep before her world turned upside down again. At least this time, the changes were for the better. Her mother was alive, her power subdued for the foreseeable future. As a star, she’d exerted so much energy that it had put her magic in periods of dormant sleep. Plus they had The Villain and his power, no matter how fraught. As soon as they got the mother guvre back, every tool they needed to fulfill the prophecy of Rennedawn’s Story would be in their arsenal.
Or so she’d thought.
“What do you mean, there are four parts of the prophecy?” Tatianna asked as she examined Nura for injuries.
Nura took a sip of tea before gently placing the cup back on the table and answering Tatianna with a small smile. “I did not see everything up there. There were periods of unconsciousness, stretches where I wasn’t awake, and I could only see so much at a time even when I was. But I do know there are four objects to make the story real. I heard Benedict name four during one of his meetings. The Villain who was once kind; the youth of Fate’s creatures, the guvres; the wishing starlight; and there is one more…”
Trystan was trying to temper his patience—Evie could tell by the way he started to say something and immediately stopped himself. “What is it?”
Nura looked forlorn. “I am sorry, but there are still pieces of my memories that I can’t quite grasp. I’m certain it will come back to me.”
Evie held her mother’s hand. “I’m sorry we didn’t find you sooner. Your letters were ruined, and we couldn’t sort it out.”
Her mother smiled shakily, mischief in her eyes. “Hasibsi, my darling love. The letters wouldn’t have given you a single clue to find me anyway. I knew they could fall into the wrong hands, so I left clues only my clever girl could solve.” She tilted Evie’s chin up and planted a kiss on her forehead.
Gideon stood near his mother, keeping determined eyes on her and then on Trystan. “I’ll find out what the fourth object is. Evie’s done enough. I’ll go back to the Gleaming Palace and get the book.”
“No!” Evie said defiantly. “That is too dangerous. We’ll find another way. We’ll steal the book, rescue the female guvre, find the fourth object, and fulfill the prophecy before Benedict.”
Gideon raised a brow. “Oh, is that all?” he asked dryly.
Trystan stared at her from where he leaned against the wall, eyes hard, jaw shadowed, and so much passed between them as he nodded. “Get some rest, everyone. We’ll begin our work first thing tomorrow.”
As he walked by her to leave the room, the back of his hand brushed hers, and he stumbled like the sensation had stung him. He only paused a moment, though, and then was gone.
Evie breathed in slowly. That one touch felt a little too much like a goodbye. A farewell from everything as they knew it.
She walked toward the window and peered out at the night sky. The brightest star was no longer there—the one she’d wished on so many times. She smiled, looking over to see her mother being worked on by Tatianna’s healing hands.
As she leaned into the window, Gideon appeared at her elbow. He looked worried, a crinkle in his brow and a frown pulling down his lips.
Her heart started to race. “What is it, Gideon?”
“I’ve been trying to tell you something,” he admitted, “but it never felt like the right time.”
Warning heated her cheeks as she motioned for him to speak. He bit his lip, leaning a hand on the sill.
Speaking low, he murmured, “You remember how I was supposed to give you the antidote to the sleeping-death fruit? So you’d awaken.”
Her eyes widened. “Yes, Gideon. A most important step.” She laughed nervously.
Gideon took her hand and dropped a vial into it. It rolled back and forth on her palm, glowing.
The antidote.
“I couldn’t get it to you in time. I kept being blocked by guards.”
She ran her other hand through her curls to hide how it had begun to shake. “This makes no sense. If you didn’t give me the antidote, how did I awaken? There’s only one cure.”
Gideon smiled, like this wasn’t going to alter the very fabric of her world. “There are two.”
“It’s a myth. Such magic, such power—it doesn’t exist,” she said fearfully.
Her brother shook his head, closing her fingers around the bottle with a lift of his brow. “Are you certain?”
The memories during her death sleep: the gentle voice, the one that called her back to living, and…the whisper of a kiss against her knuckles. She pushed any joy from the revelation away, shoving it deep within herself. It wouldn’t serve her now.
She slipped the antidote into her skirt pocket and turned to the window, gripping the sill tight with both hands. Looking up to the night sky, she surveyed all the stars and didn’t make any wishes, didn’t make any more requests of a world that only sought to confuse her. Instead, she made a vow to it. One she hoped would shake the earth all the way to the Gleaming Palace. To King Benedict. To her father. To Trystan Maverine.
She smiled and made the declaration.
Beware the wrath of a kind heart.
