Page 199 of Fallacies

I sprint through the opening in the maze and down through the gardens, and when I come to the wide trunk of an oak tree, I smile so wide my cheeks hurt.

“Boo!” I jump over the roots, throwing both arms out, pretending there’s magic coming out of my hands.

Strong arms scoop me off the ground, and I erupt in a fit of giggles, a deep laugh mingling with the sound.

“Very good, Cal.” My father laughs some more. “Very good.”

I look up, and whatever my father sees on my face drains all the color in his. “Oh, Cal. I told you about Lures. I taught you how to⁠—”

“I was four years old.” My voice is raw with disbelief, worlds away from the carefree nature of the memory.

I hadn’t even learned to spell my own name. I couldn’t yet tie my own shoes. Knowledge of the Lure was buried so deep in my brain that I’d forgotten about it entirely.

“We didn’t have a choice,” my father explains, and all I can do is stare back at him. He opens his mouth to say something else, then closes it again. When I remain silent, he shrugs, repeating with less conviction, “We didn’t have a choice.”

I scrub a hand over my face, pressing my fingers into my eyes until they ache. I focus on my inhales. One after another. Knowing damn well they won’t settle me. There’s too much buzzing through my head. Too many things racing through my thoughts, moving too fast to catch. Too fast to chase.

“Cal,” Pax says calmly.

I force down another deep breath.

“Callan,” he says again.

Removing my hands, the early morning light burns into my retinas, and it takes me a second to focus on his face, but when I do, I realize he isn’t looking at me.

My heart pounds as I turn, whirling around so fast I nearly lose my balance.

There, cresting the hill, slowly making her way to the top in one perfect piece, is Lucina.

Worry pinches her dark brows for only a moment, softening as soon as she sees us standing here. Waiting for her. Just as we said we’d be.

Her hair wildly frames her face, having fallen out of whatever braid she’d put it in, and despite the dirt smeared on her cheeks and the wear on her clothes, she smiles. Full and wide.

Triumphant.

46

Lucina

It feels much like a dream.

I shouldn’t be standing here, and I shouldn’t be alive. Maybe I’ve fabricated the three men staring back at me. Pax—with his tousled red hair and wide green eyes. Grey—chain-free, posture straight, and finally in the same place as his son.

His son.

Callan—waiting right where he said he’d be. Alive and seemingly unharmed. He looks a bit out of sorts with his ruffled hair and dazed look in his eyes, but the relief that softens his features overpowers anything else he might have been feeling.

Morning light catches the familiar planes of his face as he approaches, highlighting skin that I’ve traced with my fingers, features I know as well as my own. I’m still convinced I’m dreaming even as he moves towards me with a purpose, climbing the hill I stand on while I take smaller steps to meet him.

It isn’t until he reaches out and I find myself swept up in his arms, exhaling a breath against his shoulder, that I allow myself to believe it might be real. That it might be over.

“Hi.” My voice comes out quiet.

Callan’s arms tighten around me, the deep thud of his heart pounding through his chest. “Are you okay?” he asks, fingers shifting through my hair.

The question isn’t funny, but a manic laugh bubbles up anyway, followed quickly by a cough when I find my throat is much too dry for laughter.

“Yes,” I croak out. “I’m okay.”