“No. I know it looks bad. Believe me, Summer not coming, I’m terrified, too. But—”
“Don’t. Do you know how many times you’ve gotten my hopes up just to break my heart? So just please, stop. You’re only making it worse for both of us.”
Domenic flinched. But rather than apologize, his response was slow and venomous, as suited the villain of her story.
“Well, I’m glad I broke your heart,” he hissed, leaning down close. “Let’s call it practice for when I stop it.”
Ellery balked. “Really? This is how you want to talk about us killing each other?”
“What, was there another cue card I was supposed to read? Is there a fucking script?” He stalked away and threw up his arms. “Or would it be better to be classy about it? Should we shake hands beforehand? Offer a kiss of good luck?”
“Actually, yes, it’s better that you be an ass about it! Maybe then it won’t hurt so much when you’re dead.”
He barked out a laugh. “Oh, so you assume you’ll kill me?”
“You assumed you’d killmefirst. I was only returning the favor.”
“If it was just a matter of you and me, I’d happily let you, dear!”
He must’ve finally said something unforgivable, because Ellerypointed Iskarius at him. Her shadow writhed upon the carpet, and frost glimmered from each of her seething exhales.
Domenic’s mouth went dry with fear. He licked his lips. “So you’d really just ignore what’s left of the prophecy? Skip everything else and go right to the finale? That is so like you.”
“Oh, this ought to be good.”
“You accuse me of making you hope like it’s a bad thing. But of course you think that, because you’d rather believe your life was doomed from the start than admit how badly you want a happy ending.”
Ellery went utterly still.
“Of course I want a happy ending,” she whispered. “But that’s never been our story.”
Domenic glanced outside at the flurries whipping past—a scene that should’ve been Summer. He staggered back as the world blurred, dreamlike. Yet Ellery remained the irrevocable focal point of his vision.
He swallowed, his hand hovering near Valmordion. “I already made my choice. That if we have to do this, I’d choose duty. But even now, it doesn’t feel right.”
“It never will,” Ellery rasped.
“No, i-it’s more than that.” Domenic struggled for the correct words, knowing how pathetic he sounded. There was no honor in denial. “I’ve always known what my magic was, even when I tried to run from it. It’s instinct. But ever since that night in Mercester Square, my instinct has always been…”
He didn’t finish. He didn’t need to. Ellery’s expression went stricken.
Because of course, her instinct had always been him, too.
Like an explosion of sunlight, a sudden, delirious thought burst within Domenic’s mind. His hope bloomed like it never had. And he gasped at the perfect simplicity of it. Therightnessof it. Even his magic responded, smoldering feverishly, until he burned with conviction.
“We’ve always been the same, haven’t we?” he said. “We always know what the other is thinking. We always understand how the other feels. Because we’re the only people who can truly see each other for who we are.”
Ellery’s lips quivered, but she didn’t speak. He could glimpse his hope reflected in her gaze, but there was also pain, far too much of it.
He walked cautiously toward her.
“You think I could’ve slayed Eledrium and Maltherius without you? You think I could’ve stood up to Sharpe, smiled through any of those interviews, stopped assuming I was a failure, if you hadn’t been there beside me? The other Chosen Ones might’ve sacrificed themselves to save Alderland. But destiny didn’t just give us our wands—it gave us each other. And before I ever believed in destiny, I believed in us.”
Step after step, he closed the distance between them. He wiped his own watery eyes on his sleeve.
“What if everything we’ve ever felt, everything we’ve spent so long punishing ourselves for, has always been what will save us? What if I save you, and you save me, and we save everyone else?”
He halted before her. Iskarius wobbled in Ellery’s grasp as she pointed it at his throat.
