Page 132 of Cursebreaker

He laughs, passing the watering can to the winged woman. “Thank you, Vera,” he says. “Would you mind letting her know that Aster has arrived?”

Her?

“Are you…” I start, but I can’t seem to form words. “You’re him? You’re the True King?”

He laughs again, and the sound sweeps over me like a warm hug. “They’re still calling me that, are they?”

He turns, motioning for me to follow him as he starts down the glittering path that leads around the back of the cottage.

“If that’s not your name,” I say, walking a good distance behind him, still cautious even as I feel my distrust melting away, “then what is?”

“I have many names,” he answers, glancing at me over his shoulder, a twinkle in his eyes. “Many would sound strange to you, I suppose.” As we round the cottage, he makes his way past a small iron table set with three chairs. “When your world was still young, the people called me Rainai.”

Rainai—the ancient word for gardener. Will taught it to me during our nights at the conservatory. He once joked that the pixies used to call him Little Rainai.

It’s then I realize—there’s no crown atop this man’s head, and his skin bears the marks of a life of war. “You’re not a king at all, are you?”

He smiles at that, but there’s a touch of sorrow on his lips. “Not in the way you might think.”

My eyes narrow. “Then… what are you?”

He doesn’t answer at first. He continues to lead me along the path, toward a small pool much like the one I emerged from when I first entered through the gates. Only, it’s not water inside the pool—not really. The surface shimmers with stars and moons and…

I lean over the pool, my eyes wide. “Are those…”

He nods, casting a sidelong glance at me, his expression unreadable. “Other worlds,” he tells me. “Some very much like yours. Some… quite different.” A solemn grin. “To them, I am known as Volition.”

“Volition?” I echo.

“Yes.” He smiles, his eyes softening once more. “Free will—choice. I was reborn a very, very long time ago, chosen to become what these other worlds call a Titan. In your people’s ancient tongue, that word meant ‘ruler’ or ‘maker,’” he adds with a light chuckle. “I suppose that’s why, over time, they came to know me as king.”

I try to make sense of the thoughts streaming through my head, although the longer I stay here, all I wish to do is lie down in the grass and bathe in the sun. I try to focus, blinking away the creeping urge to sleep. “How many worlds are there?”

“Many,” he says, though I feel there’s more to that answer when his brows pinch, as if he were contemplating his next words carefully. “I’m afraid there are things I cannot discuss. Your world is still young—still… separate. It must remain that way, for now. Come,” he says, waving me back down the path from which we entered, toward the table and chairs in the center of his rose garden.

Bloodroses, I realize.

I think of the garden at Castle Grim—decimated. Without the Bloodroses, humans are the only source of Manan left for the Nightweavers.

He gestures for me to sit.

“Why our world?” I ask.

He takes his seat across from me, his posture relaxed even as his brows knit. “I’ve spent many lifetimes—traveled to many worlds—seeking those who choose goodness. My… title often prevents me from intervening in the affairs of humans. But when I find someone who uses their own volition to do good, no matter the cost, I am permitted to give them a gift—power they can use to better their world. Hildegarde chose to do what was right, even when it was difficult.” His eyes darken, if only for a moment when he adds, “Oftentimes, others envy these gifts. They believe they’re better suited for such power.”

He sighs. “By the time I found Morana, her world had been torn apart by chaos,” he says. “I saw the good in her—saw what she could become, if she made the right choices. But I was a fool. I didn’t know my ranks had been infiltrated by one who was servant to another Titan—a being that spreads discord like a disease throughout the worlds, who bows to the one who strives to bring chaos to all the realms.”

I think of what Will said—about serving another master before Morana. “Azeron?”

He dips his head, his mouth pressed tight. “I cannot interfere directly with the worlds, but my soldiers battle against the forces of Chaos. Whenever someone chooses good over evil, my armies are strengthened. But even my soldiers can be tempted. And where there is much evil present, there is great temptation.”

I think of the Fall, and how the Nightweavers were cast out of this realm because of the acts they committed during their war with the Underlings.

“Every choice matters,” Rainai tells me, and in his eyes, it’s as if I still see the reflection of that depthless pool of stars and worlds.

Every choice matters. If Morana had chosen differently… what could she have become? And Will… he seemed genuine when he let me leave the Burning Lands. What if it wasn’t all a lie?

What if there’s still time to choose another path? To chase another star?