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After helping Hannah to her feet, she and I discreetly slink away without being noticed by the wedding party.
While we walk closer to Number Two, I start noticing his haggard appearance and gaunt face.
I thought he looked bad the night he traveled back in time to intercept me, but he looks much worse now. His beige long-sleeve shirt hangs on his boney frame, his shoulders sticking out like knobs. The flesh on his cheeks is sallow and sunken, and his hairline is patchy and receding.
Number Two raises a shaky hand in greeting once we stop about ten feet away. “There’s no need to be on guard. I didn’t come to harm you.”
“Then why are you here?”
Technically, this is his universe. I’m the intruder in this instance, but that doesn’t mean I’ll show him mercy.
I’ll protect what’s mine at any cost.
“I came to see paradise one more time,” he claims, a bittersweet smile lifting his colorless lips. “I didn’t realize you’d be here, but I’m glad you are. All these years, I’ve wondered if you succeeded in saving Hannah, and it’s so good to know you did.” He looks me over before his eyes move to Hannah. “It’s like seeing old friends.”
“We are not your friends,” I say gruffly, “and if you know what’s good for you, you’ll stay away going forward.”
“You fool.” He coughs, and some blood sprays out, spattering his shirt and painting his lip with bright red dots. “Can’t you see? I’m dying.”
The next thing I know, he’s collapsing, dropping to his knees.
Leaping forward, Hannah gets to him in time to grab his shoulders and guide him gently to the ground. He rolls to his side, and despite his claim that he’s not a threat, I don’t appreciate the way he smiles up at her.
“Hannah, don’t touch him,” I warn. “It could be a trick.”
Continuing to kneel next to Number Two, Hannah shoots me a glare over her shoulder. “He’s sick, Ellister.”
I step forward to put a hand on her upper arm, ready to pull her away at any second. “Another reason why you should keep your distance.”
“What I have isn’t something you can catch,” Number Two states roughly, his breathing becoming louder with an unnerving wheeze. “As it turns out, mate withdrawal does happen even if you don’t have your soul—it just takes much longer to kill you. Much, much longer.”
I relax a bit because I’m starting to believe him. “How long? How much time has passed for you in the Lost Land?”
“Don’t know. Decades. Possibly a century or two. I’ve been so miserable, I can’t even keep track of the years. Every agonizing moment bleeds into the next, and it’s just an endless cycle of torture. At first, the changes in me were so subtle, I was able to hide it from Vaeront. Until recently, he was too self-absorbed to notice the decline in my appearance or my fatigue. But when my ability started to slip…”
“He finally realized something was amiss because it directly affected him,” I conclude.
Number Two nods. “He tried everything to save me because I’m his only doorway from the Lost Land. Spells. Elixirs. Nothing has worked.” He grins a bit victoriously, some blood still coating his teeth. “Vaeront won’t be able to bring me back this time.”
From the way he’s talking, I can conclude he’s attempted—and possibly succeeded—suicide before. But because the death was his own physical doing, necromancy could reverse it. But if he goes by way of mate withdrawal… he’ll be free. Permanently.
The fact that Vaeront would continuously force Number Two to serve him is ridiculous and cruel, though I shouldn’t be surprised.
I shake my head. “I don’t think of Vaeront very often anymore, but I’d hoped he might’ve evolved into a better person eventually.”
“No.” Number Two scoffs. “He’s as selfish as he ever was. Him and Gia both. They’re a volatile pair of rulers still.”
“Do they know you’re gone?”
“I suspect if they haven’t found out I’m missing already, they will soon.”
“Is anyone going to follow you here? Merina?”
“No,” Number Two responds, sounding sure. “The witch died long ago, and Vaeront has no one else who can mimic my power. Even if he could get out of the Lost Land, he wouldn’t be looking for you. He doesn’t know you exist.”
“I hope you’re right. Because I have a family to protect.”
Just then, there’s happy squealing and cheering from the orchard as my daughters celebrate Faith’s apple-picking win.
