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Kaleb crossed his arms over his chest, his white tunic stretching over his biceps. He had packed a bit more muscle onto his lean figure. It looked good on him. “Says the mortal who is actually an immortal goddess. You can’t die like a mortal can, remember?”
I sighed. In all honesty, I had forgotten about that one not-so-tiny detail—
Later, I would think aboutthatlater.
“There has to be a way I can go to the Spirit Realm,” I said, plucking at my bottom lip, racking my scattered thoughts—permanently mussed by the wind of Von. I turned to Kaleb. “How does Von travel back and forth? Between the realms?”
He offered a one-shoulder shrug. “He shadow walks.”
I was an idiot—of course that was how Von passed from realm to realm. Unfortunately, for me, shadow walking was an ability I didn’t have—or at least . . . I didn’t think I had.
“How doyoutravel back and forth?” I asked.
“I have to be in my raven form to pass through to the Spirit Realm.”
I quirked a brow. “What do youpassthrough?”
“I can’t explain it.” He combed his fingers through his blond hair, gray-blue eyes flickering back and forth as he searched for the right words. “It’s not a physical barrier or anything like that. I can justfeelitand then I pass through.”
“What does it feel like?” I asked—searching for a needle of understanding in a haystack of unknowns.
“When I come to the Living Realm, it feels cold. Lonely.” Kaleb fumbled for a moment, like he didn’t really want to tell me the next part. “But when I’m returning to the Spirit Realm, it feels warm. It feels like . . . home. What the cottage felt like.”
I understood Kaleb’s hesitancy in telling me. Hearing that the Spirit Realm felt like home to him was . . . strange. Itreminded me that our lives would never return to normal, at least not like they used to be.
I paced some more.
The bed groaned, snapping me out of my thoughts, as Kaleb sat down. His voice fell soft. “There’s something else.”
Unease sank low in my belly. “What?”
“Von’s wound isn’t healing.”
My pacing slowed.
If Von was still wounded because of the sword Soren forced me to make, forced me to thrust through him while I was unconscious . . . my presence would only make it worse. Realization turned my feet to lead, and my pacing came to a quick stop.
I couldn’t go to him.
My heartbeat thundered in my ears, my temples—ba-dump, ba-dump, ba-dump.
“There’s more,” Kaleb said, shoulders rising as he took a deep breath. “Some of the healers believe that Von’s body has entered a self-preserving state so that the wound won’t kill him in the immortal way. But the wound won’t heal because it was part of the deal—to give his life in exchange for the Crown of Thorns . . . his life for yours.”
“Meaning Von won’t ever wake up.” I tried not to choke on the bitter words.
Kaleb’s lips thinned. “Not unless the deal is broken.”
I didn’t understand. “I thought deals were set in stone—that they were binding.” I regurgitated the same words Harper had once spoken to me. “How does one break them?”
“No one seems to know—not even the Old Gods in the Spirit Realm. Von was the one who coined tattooed bargains, so if anyone knew, it would be him. Unfortunately, with his current state, it’s not like we can just up and ask him.”
I let out an aggravated sigh before I picked up my pacing once more.
My thoughts drifted back to that day in the kitchen when Harper explained what tattooed bargains were. She said they weren’t like a piece of paper that could just be torn up. She made them sound like they were impossible to break, and Von hadn’t said anything to make me think otherwise.
So how could I break something that could not be broken?
. . . I couldn’t.
