Page 32 of The Reaping Rose

“So you’re saying if I find this void, the orb can be nullified?”

“It does not exist in this realm. If it did, you would already know of it. The Fae would have already suffered.”

“But if I could find it…” I press, not ready to let that be the end.

“If you could find it and contain it, then maybe the orb could be nullified using its power. But if what you say is true, it doesn’t promise the realm can be fixed either way. There is only one thing stronger than the gods. One thing that determines all, regardless of how you tamper with it.”

“What is that?”

“Fate.” Idunn holds out her hands as if she envisions something between them. “The Luminess does not simply weave fate; the Luminess is woven through the threads to ensure that if it is broken, the path will correct itself. What is fated by the Luminess will always come to pass. There is no way around it, even for the gods. If the realms are meant to die, they will die, no matter how you try and heal them.”

The rune on my chest sears as I think of Wilder. I saw him in the threads, and I pulled him back. Not once, not twice. But three times now I’ve stopped his death in one form or another. A breaking of his fate. Except his heart continues to beat faster. Is that what Idunn is warning me of? That fate will keep coming no matter how hard I try to save him.

Have I only delayed the inevitable?

My palm presses over the rune, and Idunn’s gaze moves with it.

“You will know if he’s gone,” she says. “A mate always knows.”

“Is that a feeling you’ve known?”

Idunn refuses to meet my gaze, her expression unreadable. At least her words offer a slight comfort. While I cannot hear Wilder, his presence is somewhere. He’s alive.

The prison quakes again, and Idunn closes her eyes, smiling. It’s almost as if she hopes the walls will crumble, letting her out. But when my gaze moves to the runes trapping her in place, they don’t flicker.

“Those bindings that contain me cannot be broken as easily as your mate’s. The prison does not wish it yet,” Idunn answers my silent question, and it surprises me how much she has heard through the walls if she knows how I saved Wilder.

“You’re saying the prison wished for me to get through Wilder’s runes?”

“The prison grows bored sometimes. We all do. But this place is a curious thing. It let him out, didn’t it?”

“Because he died.”

A laugh huffs from her lips. “The runes can break and bind. They can hold or release. But the prison decides in the end.”

“It could have decided to keep him here, even after death?”

“Just as it could have kept you for what is in your blood.”

A chill runs down my spine. “Then why didn’t it?”

The corner of her mouth tilts. “That is a question only the prison can answer.”

Unease pools in my belly. As icy cold as Idunn’s eyes as she watches me. If she’s right and the prison chooses, then my human blood means nothing for if I will leave here again. The prison will decide.

I glance around at the walls that contain us. Idunn might be the one trapped by runes, but I’m not free either. There is no path or staircase unless the prison creates one.

“How many prisoners are within these walls?”

Her gaze narrows. “Does it matter? We are but forgotten.”

“Not to me.”

She smirks. “Ah, you have the heart of your father. A human heart, blinded by compassion.”

“There’s nothing wrong with having compassion for others.”

She doesn’t respond, but her eyes gleam because she does not care either. Idunn has made it clear she does not value human blood. That only Fae mean anything to her. Which is why she can shame me for caring, but it means nothing. I’d rather have my father’s heart than be whatever cold creature stands before me.