Page 17 of Veil of Night & Flames

He put a finger under her chin, making certain that she was meeting his eyes. “I know what happens in my realm, Cora. I have eyes everywhere, and I see everything.”

A shadow seemed to pass over her face. “Do you see my⁠—”

She cut herself off with a shake of her head.

“What?”

She rolled her shoulders back. “My love for Chase. Do you see that? Do you understand it?”

It was a legitimate question, but it wasn’t what she’d intended to ask. He frowned, wondering what question she was hiding. He suspected it had to do with her mother—the woman she still grieved. She’d told him during one of their walks that Cassie Lyte died screaming in a nightmare.

He did not press her for the real question. Some questions kept their power by not being spoken aloud.

“Adric?” she whispered. “Answer the question. My love for Chase. Do you see it?”

“Yes,” he said, hating the words. “I do.”

For a moment, she simply looked out at the beauty of the desert stretched out as far as the eye could see. Then she turned back to him. “Where do you want to go? You’re free now. You can go anywhere.” The corner of her mouth twitched. “I mean, we should probably go back to the reception, but it’s your party. Literally.”

He frowned, thinking. In all the long years of his imprisonment, he’d imagined this moment more times than he could count—the first place he’d go, the first thing he’d see. He’d pictured the other realms. The Realm of the Others, with its fairy-tale-like magic woven through the plants, the stones, the people. Even the air. Or perhaps the Unseen, where magic pooled like water. Even Retribution, where Mordhal—the prison he’d ordered built—stood like a dark sentinel in that dank and dusky realm. But standing here with Cora, none of those places mattered.

“I want to see the Realm of the Real,” he said. “Your world. The way you see it. Not through a scrying pool. I want to stand where you stand and breathe the air you breathe.”

“Really?”

He watched as a flurry of emotions washed over her face. Hope and fear and something else—homesickness, maybe, even though she’d been in this realm for only a few days.

She tilted her head, studying him. “Of all the places you could choose, you really want to go to St. Augustine?”

“I want to see you in the place you call home.” He paused. “And in a way, it is a wedding present for you, too.”

“Really? How?”

“I thought you might like to see Tia.”

“Oh.” It was as if he’d said Open Sesame. All the invisible armor she’d been wearing since she’d crashed in his realm melted away, revealing a young woman who missed her best friend so badly it was written in every line of her body.

“Only seeing,” he said quickly. “At least for now. We can’t let her know we’re there.”

“Why not?”

“Because you are coming back with me, my love. That will be hard on you. Speaking with your friend will only make it harder.”

“Adric, no, I⁠—”

“Those are my terms. The choice is yours.”

A single tear streaked down her cheek, but she nodded. “Yes. I want to see Tia. So, yes.”

“Good,” he said, then reached for her hand.

Chapter

Seven

The Realm of the Real hit him like a wave.

Color. Sound. The weight of a sun—an actual sun—warm on his skin for the first time in millennia. He stood on a sidewalk lined with oak trees, moss hanging like gray curtains, and the sheer physical density of this realm pressed against him from every direction. The light. The sound. The air that smelled of warm bodies and green, growing things—the particular alive-smell of the Real.