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I can hear him breathing heavier, his hand sliding lower, over the silk, down the curve of my hip, slowly pulling up my dress with his hand until his skin is against mine. I moan out when he flattens his palm against my thigh, squeezing it, before sliding his hand up to reveal the nakedness between my thighs.

His touch doesn’t stop, slowly trailing down until I gasp when he’s grazing against everything sensitive and private. One finger slides inside me, slow and sure, and the world fractures.

The sensation of some part of him, inside of my pelvic crown, relaxes my body. I’m aware that his mouth is at my throat, his breath hot against the necklace, and his finger curls inside me as they move. His voice is in my ear, saying my name over and over, both names like a litany.

I wake alone.

Gray predawn light filters through the open curtains, and the ocean is calm outside. The silk gown is damp with sweat, but that seems to be drying now. The vial on the nightstand is empty.

My body feels... quieter.

I press my hand between my thighs, recalling where he had just been. Was it really Kallúm? Or did the fever conjure what it needed?

I sit up, drinking an entire glass of water, before rising to my feet. My vision tunnels momentarily until I can focus again, my dress only partially sliding down where it’s not stuck against my skin.

My body moves without thought, nearing the mirror that I swore I saw her in.

As I reach it, I touch the gilded edges. What reflects back isn’t a haggard woman covered in sweat, but a silk gown completely dry and loosely flowing. Nara stands in the reflection as clearly as I stand here, her hair a pale silver-blonde that moves as if underwater. Her eyes are the same turquoise as mine but deeper, like peering into the age of something long gone.

My heart hammers. We stand face to face, the glass between us.

"Are you real?" I whisper.

Her lips don’t move with mine, and the expression behind reflecting back is filled with more patience and knowing, as if she's been waiting on the other side of this glass for me to arrive.

“As real as you are.”

"Then what’s happening to me?"

She tilts her head, a gesture that doesn't mirror mine, and I feel something move through the bind that isn't Kallúm. It's her. Or me? There’s a warmth that tastes like salt water and sounds like the deep current underneath the waves. “Kallúm, for better or for worse, is our mate. When he first found me, my soul was breaking from the Godless. The bind he forced on us possibly saved our existence. It’s okay to give in, Penelope. In fact, it will allow me to come through.”

It's the first time since arriving in the Underworld that I trust anything completely, and it brings tears to my eyes as I exhale with relief. Like I finally found a morsel of safety.

My fingers touch the glass. Her fingers slowly mirror the action to touch mine.

Nara almost smiles, then drops her hand. “It will all make sense, soon. Let your mate tend to you.”

The reflection changes as I’m revealed, and I recoil at the sight. My hair is stuck all over my face, there are dark circles under my eyes, and my dress appears as if I’m still drying after being drenched in water.

There’s a small breath of clarity, and I want to ask her so much more. And yet everything within tells me I need to find Kallúm. Perhaps there’s something to the bind that will return my sanity, like she said.

“Kallúm,” I say, returning my mind to the sensation of his penetration within. There’s no questioning about why things work the way they do in the Underworld, only an acceptance as I feel his presence behind me. His reflection is in the mirror, standing there with authority.

As I stare at my reflection, having just seen the ocean goddess speak to me, I slowly turn to face him, his gaze devouring me. “Make this ache go away,” I say to him, overcome with what to tell him as if from somewhere else. “It’s what you owe me, as my mate.”

Something breaks behind his eyes. The composure of this ruler disappears almost instantly. His hands reach for the hem of my dress, sliding it up until it falls away from my body.

The sound he makes is guttural, revenant. His eyes move over me with the desperation of someone seeing something they thought they'd lost forever, retaining every detail as if I might disappear again.

“What changed?” I asked.

“You said those exact words to me, many decades ago…”

He pulls his tunic off. The scars are everywhere—old ones, white and faded, layered over darker ones that look like they were earned in wars I can't imagine. His chest is broad, his stomach ridged with muscle, and underneath the left collarbone is a mark I recognize without knowing why… perhaps a bite?

I reach out and touch it.

He inhales deeply, his entire body going rigid. "That's where you marked me," he says, his voice barely functional. "When the bind was first sealed."