Silas stepped closer. “I’ve allowed us a temporary visit, if youwill.”
Irene closed her eyes, angling her face toward the sky. She hadn’t realized how much she’d missed the warmth of the sun, how much she’d craved the soft caress of the wind against her skin. Her humanity, long dormant, rose within her, a starved plant reaching for a sliver of sunlight.
Her eyelids fluttered open. The clear water of the pond rippled in the wind. “I never thought I’d see this world again.”
Silas hummed. “Did you miss it?”
Irene shivered. “I didn’t think I did.”
Silas knelt next to her. When he looked at Irene, his eyes had taken on an unfamiliar warmth, a softness. The wickedness in his gaze was gone. The ancient power radiating from his soul had faded.
He looked…human. Nothing more than a broken man.
“Death doesn’t have to be the end for you.” Silas reached into the pocket of his waistcoat, searching for something. When he removed his hand, a small golden pocket mirror was nestled in his palm. “This…this is just the beginning. A mere taste of what I can offer you. What I canteachyou.”
He opened the pocket mirror and aimed it toward the park, letting it linger there for a moment. A cardinal zipped by, temporarily blotting out the sun. A couple shared a brief kiss by the lake, hands intertwined. A sharp breeze sent a flutter of leaves tumbling by their feet. When Silas angled the mirror back toward Irene, that exact moment replayed over and over within its surface—the cardinal, the couple, the ruffle of leaves—as though Silas had somehow captured and recorded the moment within the pocket mirror.
“For you,” he whispered, gently closing the mirror and placing it in her hand. “Just point it toward the moment you wish to capture and it will be there…waiting for you.”
Irene shook her head. “I don’t understand…why are you doing this?”
Silas swallowed, looking out toward the lake. When he smiled, there was an unmistakable sadness behind it.
“I know what you must think of me,” he began, his voice low. “That I’m a monster. A tyrant. And…perhaps you’re right. But I make necessary sacrifices in order to preservethis. I was not handed this power—Iclaimedit.” He peeled his eyes away from the lake, lowering his gaze toward Irene. “You can understand that…can’t you, Irene? The desire to fight against your fate. To take what should rightfully be yours.”
Irene shivered.More than you know, she wanted to whisper back. Her entire life had felt like an unstoppable current she’d been unable to escape. Her mother had made sure of that. Even in death, Irene had been forced to wrestle against the hand of fate, to swim against the vicious tide that threatened to pull her under. And now…now she was torn. Split in two. Forced to reckon with two sides that wished to claim her. Mateo offered her freedom—a path to vengeance. With the Demien Order, Irene could rip apart the hand of fate and seize her power. Wasn’t it Silas’s fault, after all? Wasn’t he the one who put them in that godforsaken competition in the first place? The one who lied to them? Who forced Irene to stand back and watch innocent souls perish under the Ether’s greed? He was the ringmaster…the orchestrator of it all.
And yet…
Something inside her faltered. A hesitance. A sickening doubt.
Silas placed his hand upon her shoulder. If he noticed the war being waged inside her, he didn’t show it.
“Where to next?” he asked.
Irene closed her palm around the pocket mirror. “Where can we go?”
Silas smiled.
“Anywhere.”
17
AUGUST
You idiot.
August stumbled back into his tent, cursing under his breath. He ripped his black cloak off his shoulders and tossed it onto the floor, frantically undoing the first few buttons on his shirt, fingers trembling as he struggled to keep his hands steady. He felt suffocated, like the air around him had begun to solidify, clogging his lungs. He’d squandered yet another opportunity to be alone with Wren. Why did he always say the wrong thing? Why did he always have to ruineverything?
August loosened the collar of his shirt, stretching the muscles of his neck.
His eyes drifted toward the full-length mirror in the corner of his tent, involuntarily flinching at what he saw reflected at him. Despite the emotional exhaustion wreaking havoc on his body, he looked…strong. As if the shadows swimming beneath his veins had gifted him with a renewed sense of life.
August reached a shaking hand to the collar of his shirt, tugging down, exposing the hard planes of his chest and the shadows that swam beneath. They flowed through his tanned skin in thick streams, twisting up and down as though following an invisible current. He’d had to use more shadow magic than he wanted to during the battle simulation—not to mention the practice duelshe’d been forced to participate in afterward. Onyx Unit was proving to be as ruthless and cruel as he had anticipated.
He had to be careful.
If he used too much, he might begin to lose himself even before Equinox.
