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“Do you remember what we talked about at the art studio? About why I was looking into Westcott.”
“You said you didn’t know. That it felt like the idea had been planted in your head by someone else—”
“I don’t know how I didn’t make the connection before,” he says, almost to himself. “I had this feeling that I had to be paired with you for initiation, but I didn’t know why. I’d chalked it up to wanting to get to know you. But it’s a feeling I’ve only felt when I got back here and started looking into Westcott.” The tension between his eyebrows eases as he puts the pieces together. “You think you can get to it.”
I give a slow nod. “I’ve researched it. But you don’t have to. I know it’s really invasive.”
“Valerie, you’re already in my head half the time anyway. I don’t have anything to hide from you.”
I search his eyes, so open and blue and trusting.
“Okay,” I whisper.
It’s a spell I’ve never performed myself, though I’ve seen it plenty of times—had it used on me once by the queen and my mother. I know how it feels on Reid’s side of things, but no way of preparing myself for what’s coming for me.
I brace myself for the magic again, but the sting of my blade is almost a relief as I press the tip to my finger. I do the same to Reid’s hand, then smear the mixture of our blood between my fingertips before pressing them to Reid’s temples.
I let out a long exhale and close my eyes. The darkness is immediate, a different kind than the undersides of my eyelids. And it’s also oddly familiar. Like touching Reid’s skin or smelling his aftershave. I’d recognize this darkness as his, even if I hadn’t known ahead of time. I wonder if it would feel like this with anyone I’m close to, or if it’s just him.
At first it feels like I’ve dropped into the middle of the ocean, frantically spinning with waves crashing, not sure which direction is the surface. But as I focus on the steady heat of the bond in my chest and my breath to ground myself, a flicker of light catches the corner of my eye.
I drift toward it, its presence so clearly foreign here. Everything that makes up Reid’s mind—his thoughts, his memories—theyfeellike him. This, however, does not.
Small threads drift past me as I inch toward the light, like trails of smoke. I have no idea what damage I’d cause by interacting with anything in here, so I’m careful to avoid them.
When I reach the light, there’s no warmth coming from it despite how much it resembles the sun. It’s barely larger than the palm of my hand.
And though it doesn’t feel like Reid, for some reason, it feels familiar in its own way.
I catch myself holding my breath as I reach for it. What if this isn’t what I think it is? What if touching it somehow permanently screws with something in Reid’s head? What if—
A jolt of electricity shoots up my arm at the contact, and in the blink of an eye, the darkness around me disappears, morphing into a different scene entirely.
Suddenly I’m standing in an outdoor corridor that I recognize from pictures of the Russian estate.
I gasp as a flash of movement catches the corner of my eye and whip around to face—
Reid.
He’s leaning against the building, gaze focused somewhere out in the distance, a pained look on his face that makes my own chest ache. His breath puffs up in a cloud around him, and it’s not until then that I notice the snow on the ground. But when he turns his head, he looks straight through me.
“What are you doing here?” he asks.
High heels click behind me, coming closer, and I turn.
My mother smiles as she approaches, and my breath hitches, at first thinking she’s looking at Reid behind me, but no, her eyes are locked onme.
But that’s not possible. This is a memory. I’m not really here.
But then she reaches for my hand—and makes contact.
CHAPTERSIXTEEN
I gaspas my mother tightens her fingers around mine and pulls me a step closer, and I realize how tight her smile is, her eyes shifting back and forth as if preparing for a threat to jump out at us.
“We don’t have much time,” she says.
“How are you—what is this—can Reid see this?”
