Page 134 of Find My Way Down to You

“Would you prefer I lie?”

I thump the back of my head against the opposite wall. There’s so much unexplainable power running through Aides. Running through me too, apparently, even though I can’t feel it.

My mind drifts back to the throne room. When I thought I could just call upon something that was never there before. The delight in Milos’s eyes after I failed.

I examine the inside of my forearm. Right under my tattoo. I search for a trail of gold. Something sparkling in my veins. Maybe a hint of fire or the tingle of strength.

Anything to help me get out of here.

“The elevator is enchanted,” Henri explains. “It takes you where you need to go.”

“Can it take me home?” I tease.

He smiles sadly. “Where you need to gowithinAides.”

I remember the masquerade ball. When I ran out of the ballroom to look for London. But the elevator took me to thegardens instead. Was it trying to keep me safe? Out of trouble?

Did it know Cary would find me there? That we’d end up kissing?

That he was what I nee—

The doors glide open. I push aside any more thoughts of Cary.

Guards wait inside the great hall for us. Henri gives them a brief nod. I don’t make eye contact. They trail at a short distance as we walk. My lungs fill with bright floral notes.

It’s not long before Henri breaks our silence. “I was like you once.”

“What, a prisoner?”

“No.” He pauses. “A mortal.”

Those two words bring me to a cold stop. I scan his face for the lie. But it’s not there. Henri smiles as he always does—carefree, bold as the moon.

“I don’t remember much,” he continues. The skin between his brows pinches. “It was so long ago.”

I squint at him. It’s hard to imagine a mortal Henri. What was he like? Still loud and spectacular? Did he look the same then?

“Then how did you become a Deathless?” Soon after, another question bubbles up, hope singing in my marrow. “Are you also a descendant?”

Tell me I’m not alone.

With sympathetic eyes, he says, “No. I was a soul. Chosen by the last messenger Deathless.” He motions grandly athimself. “Obviously, she was not as fashionable as I am.”

My heart skips. Henri was a soul. Which means he died. I trace the boyishness in his cheeks, those adorable dimples. How young was he when it happened?

Something he said at the pizzeria comes back to me:

We are chosen. But some are born from other Deathless. The rest…come from elsewhere.

Henri was talking about himself.Elsewhereis the mortal realm.

“How many Deathless used to be souls?”

“Not many,” he replies.

I run through all the faces from the masquerade ball. Gorgeous, breathtaking. The kind of beauty I rarely see in Santa Barbara. How much of that is the power of Aides? And at what price?

Now Poppy’s in my head:Nothing comes without a cost. Even in the afterlife.