IT WASN’T A LACK OF COMFORT THAT KEPT BLYTHE AWAKE LATE INTO the

witching hours. On the contrary, she had nearly merged with the pillows on her chaise and was quite certain that she would be spending the majority of her nights sleeping beneath the stars in this library. The fox seemed to enjoy it, too. Blythe wasn’t sure when the beastly thing had managed to sneak in, but she listened to its sleepy grunts as she stared up at the sky.

She could still feel Aris’s touch burning into her skin and sank into the memory of his lips against hers. Had she felt more herself, Blythe would have kept him in her library, learning every inch of his body and giving into her most primal desires. Such wanting, however, was not the only thing keeping Blythe awake.

Her fingers tapped against the spine of a book, wishing that the past week had been a fever dream so that she could steady her mind on the pages and get lost in its story.

But Blythe couldn’t stop thinking about Solanine and her threats, or of the power that thrummed within her own blood. She tipped her head back, a weariness in her bones. For a month Life’s ghost had plagued her, skirting the corners of her mind whenever Blythe least wanted her. Even now she could hear echoes of the woman’s laughter reverberating through her skull.

Mila was everywhere, taunting Blythe with knowledge that she didn’t have. With a history that Blythe was only beginning to recollect.

“I tire of your games,” Blythe whispered, not to the room but to whatever it was that rested within her. To Life. “If you have business with me, then tell me why and let us be done with it.”

No sooner had she spoken than she doubled over with a cry, hands flying to her temples. It was like her mind was being cracked in two as an image beat against her skull.

Blythe gritted through the pain, not wanting Aris to overhear her struggle. At once she regretted her challenge, terrified by whatever it was that seemed to be trying to escape from within her. Yet the more she second-guessed herself and tried to force Life away in a panic, the harder Life pushed back, squeezing until Blythe could take it no more.

She collapsed against her pillow, struggling for breath and too weak to fight her off. “Fine!” Blythe spat, tears prickling from the pain. “Show me, then. Show me why you’re here!”

Blythe shut her eyes and let Life’s thoughts fill her own.

 

 

The first thing Blythe saw was a flourishing garden and an unmistakable woman sitting with her bare feet pressed into the soil. It was the same woman Blythe had followed through the halls of Wisteria weeks ago. The same one whose portrait loomed over the heart of the palace.

Life wore a muslin gown of white, hair as pale as milk spilling over her shoulders and down to her hips as she leaned with her back against a towering wisteria tree. Cupped in her palms was a handful of dirt.

In every picture that Blythe had seen of Life, the woman’s eyes had always been missing. Looking at her now, she understood why. Aris had been doing the woman a disservice when he’d said that her eyes were silver. They were as gray as storm clouds, with flecks of onyx dotted across them like constellations. The colors melted together into an impossible hue that no paintbrush could capture, and were set behind pale lashes.

To Blythe’s surprise, whatever she was seeing did not feel like past memories. She did not inhabit the woman’s skin, but instead crouched before her. Life’s eyes blinked slowly as they stared at Blythe, and the woman reached a hand out for her. Somehow there wasn’t so much as a hint of dirt marring her fair palm.

Blythe felt no hesitation to take hold of the offered hand. In fact, it

seemed at that moment that nothing could feel more natural as she took a seat beside Life, who was silent as she wove her fingers through Blythe’s and guided her hand to the soil.

At first Blythe grimaced, for the soil was cold and making a home for itself beneath her fingernails. Soon, though, her body relaxed into the motion of shaping the earth between her hands. Her skin warmed, a pulse of heat striking her chest when the earth between her palms began to shift, shaping itself.

Blythe nearly pulled away, startled, but Life held fast as a plump, squat figure with rounded arms and stubby legs emerged from the soil. Blythe’s jaw tightened as she watched it twitch, then rise from the ground. She gasped, unmoving when the creature toddled over her ankles toward a bush full of berries beside her. She expected it to feel repulsive. Expected her body to erupt in shudders as it used her like a stepping stool. Instead, the strange creature was warm and pleasant to the touch, and Blythe found her steady breaths returning.

“It won’t hurt you. Keep watching.” The voice that spoke wasn’t human. Never had Blythe heard a sound so soft, flowing as gracefully as water in a fountain. The voice did not seem to come from a single body, but from the trees themselves. From each and every leaf that rustled in the wind, and from each blade of grass that bowed to the weight of their bodies.

It was a voice that could not be ignored. One that had Blythe’s head swiveling to watch the creature pluck two berries from the nearby bush. Small as it was, the effort nearly caused it to fall. Still, after a few more tries it managed to snap off the berries and plop them onto its face in the spot where eyes might go. As it rushed to join others with tiny twigs sprouting from their heads, or leaves draping from them like hair, Blythe realized she felt nothing but peace. The more she watched, the cuter the strange creatures became.

“They are rather cute, aren’t they?” Mila parroted, as though Blythe had voiced the thought aloud. “We begin from the earth, just as we end. It’s the most magnificent thing.” Her toes curled into the soil, and she lifted her eyes to focus them on Blythe.

“We?” Blythe’s voice felt so much smaller in comparison. So much quieter. “You mean… those are—”

“Souls, yes.” The sun shone a little brighter with Mila’s butter-soft

laughter. “You’re seeing them in their rawest form. When a soul has found its desire to live, I will provide it a body,” Mila explained. “From there, it’s given a journey to have here on this earth. Then, one day, that journey will end and its body will return to the soil while its soul carries on. That is the way of things—Life, Fate, and then Death. Every role has its part, and each of those parts is as beautiful as the next.”

The strange creatures were toppling over one another, playing like children. Blythe’s attention narrowed when one of them stopped suddenly. It had only a second to wave at the others before it winked out of existence in a flash of gold. Life drew her knees to her chest, resting her arms upon them.

“Onward it goes to discover its fate,” she mused, joy crinkling the corners of her eyes. “I wonder what story Aris will weave for it.”

Though they were allegedly meant to be one and the same, Blythe felt none of the joy that her other half seemed to. “Is that truly all there is?” she asked. “Life, Fate, and then Death?”

“Of course not.” Mila’s laugh was as delicate as wind chimes. “So much more goes into a life, dear self. And there are more out there, just like us. You’ve already met one of them.”

Solanine.

The back of Blythe’s neck prickled with nerves. “What does she want with me?”

The sorrow in Life’s eyes was painful to behold. “It’s not your fault,” she soothed. “You didn’t know, but now you must fix it. You’ve upset the balance.”

“The balance of what?” In the back of her mind Blythe knew she was still asleep on the chaise in her library, and that reality could pluck her away from whatever dream space Life had drawn her to at any moment. She had to calm herself. To breathe deeply no matter how much her mind was churning, if only to remain there a few moments longer.

“There are rules you must learn,” Mila said. “Most will come naturally, but others may not. We’ve all been tempted. We get too attached to humans and make foolish mistakes, but those mistakes have consequences.

“I am part of you,” she continued. “Your memories will come in time, if you choose to let them, but I cannot tell you what you do not already know in your soul. You have to realize it yourself—there is but one rule to the

power you wield. There is but one thing you can do that would forever upset the balance of this world. Think, Blythe. You know what it is.”

Blythe wanted to argue. To demand that Mila hand her the answer and not waste any more precious time. But the deeper the question seeped into her mind, the more Blythe felt its answer searing her tongue. “The dead,” she said. “That’s what Solanine meant about the horse. I’m not supposed to bring anyone back from the dead.”

“No matter how much you may want to. She is a distracted sort, but should such a thing ever happen, breaking that rule would only invite Chaos.”

Chaos. She should have guessed that’s who Solanine was.

“So what, Chaos wants me to kill the horse? To pay for the life that I gave?” Blythe snorted. “It was hardly even dead.”

Mila shut her eyes, her sigh rousing a gale of wind that brushed along the trees, making the leaves sing. “I cannot say more than what you already know. Chaos reigns when the balance of nature is upset, and you, more than anyone, must respect the natural balance of this world. All who live must one day die.”

Another one of the strange creatures winked out in Blythe’s periphery with a golden flash, and she found her thoughts straying to Aris. Was he sitting in his study with a needle in hand, constructing the fate of the soul Life had just plucked from the earth? Would he be able to give her the answers that Mila couldn’t?

“He’s searching for you, you know,” Blythe told the woman. “He’s been searching for a very long time.”

“I know.” Mila reached forward to take Blythe’s hand in hers once more. With the soil between them, Blythe hadn’t realized just how formidable the woman was. She did not have the delicate, gentle hands of a lady. They were strong and calloused, commanding enough that a squeeze from them drew Blythe’s attention to the fire that shone in the woman’s eyes. “Which is why I’m glad that he’s finally found us.”

Mila’s smile was a marvel, as dazzling as light itself and impossible to turn away from.

“I will not bother you again.” Mila’s words were a promise. “But that doesn’t mean I am not still a part of your soul. You may rest easy knowing that I am but a small part, for you have had centuries to learn and grow

from when that soul belonged only to me. The life you have lived is different from the one that I did. I am your origin, and you are my future. We are different, Blythe. But history has a way of repeating itself, and you cannot let it. You must fix what has been set in motion.” There was a wateriness to her words that drew Blythe’s focus. Only then did she notice that Mila was diffusing at the edges, fading with the light.

“What history?” Blythe demanded. “If you want me to understand, then do not give me riddles!” But it was too late. Mila could say no more, and Blythe was tossed back into the throes of reality.