Unless I helped them tear down the Empire.
“What choice do we have?” Bláth paced the walkways circling the tree. “We ran past the wall, and have been gone for days.”
Brighid pressed her fingers into her eyes. “Let me think.”
A shadow moved out of the corner of my eye. Vaf leaned against the tree, though he hadn’t been there a moment before. “You could always ask me.” He ran a hand along his half-mask. “And I will tell you the price.”
“Yes,” Brighid drawled. “I’m sure you’re very trustworthy.”
“Have I hurt you thus far, dear?” His golden eye flicked to me.
Taking a breath, I approached him. “Supposedly, fae can do anything. Is that true?”
“No.” Vaf smirked. “But I could unravel the threads of paths unwalked. With a snap of my fingers, I could return you tothe night you took up watch—and fled into the darkness. Reese would awaken, thinking the night had passed without incident.”
“You can turn back time?”
“Not quite. All of this has still transpired. Your brother will still wear his scar. But the pieces will return to their original place, and the Paragon will be none the wiser.”
Brighid took my arm and pulled me back. “It sounds too good to be true, because it is.”
“For all things, there is a price,” Vaf said. “I have never claimed otherwise. But who will pay it?”
“I will,” I blurted out. “They’ve suffered enough.”
“Mare!” Brighid yanked my arm. “You must listen to a fae’s offering carefully—and your response must be worded just as cautiously, otherwise?—”
She fell silent. Her mouth hung open mid-word. Startled, I spun around, searching for the fae lord, but saw only a leaf falling from the tree freeze a pace above the ground.
When I turned back, Brighid was gone, as was Bláth. I was alone.
Just like before, when Vaf had appeared to give me a warning.
“That was foolish.” Vaf walked around me. “To agree to a fae’s bargain so readily.”
I bit my tongue, hard. He’d offered me a bargain—and I’d agreed to pay the price.
“You wanted this,” I said, hand flying to my sword. “That’s why you showed me their pasts.”
“A happy coincidence, nothing more.” Vaf crossed the distance between us with frightening speed. He grabbed my chin and tilted my head up—golden eye peering down into mine. “Now, what price shall I take from you?”
My head spun. What was I willing to give up? And what would a fae want?
“Irony delights us.” He smirked. “Suffering fuels us. But first—” He tilted my chin, mouth drawing into a line. “Do you remember me, Fieltha?”
“ . . . what did you call me?”
A hint of sorrow darkened his face. He released me. “You ask me for a perfect lie—for a means to deceive the man who’s begun to wonder. We will reset the clock and grant you another chance—a chance to dwell in his shadow, clutching the handle of a knife.”
I drank in his every word, searching for a catch in his riddle.
He leaned in, nose an inch from mine. “In exchange for restoring the strength of your relationship, I grant you the surety of its demise. You shall never know the safety of love, Mare Rohan. No, you and Reese are doomed to ever stand on opposite sides. When that day you dread comes, you will be caressed by a golden glow on the edge of a great storm. From the breath of relief and triumph, all will drown in darkness. Your heart will shatter, long before your blades clash. That is the price I take from you.”
Before I could respond, Vaf stepped back and snapped his fingers.
Vines sprang from the ground and entwined around my legs. I tried to wrest from their hold, but they only coiled tighter. Verdant green overtook the black sky, subsumed the violet tree, and snaked down from above like the fronds of a willow.
A vine, sharpened like a knife, plunged through my chest and ensnared my heart. Pain tore through me, and I screamed.
