Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 67421 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 337(@200wpm)___ 270(@250wpm)___ 225(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67421 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 337(@200wpm)___ 270(@250wpm)___ 225(@300wpm)
She’d heard him.
“Is someone there?! Who—” She froze, staring at the darkly mirrored wall. Her chin quivered. “Warrick?”
And now saw him. His reflection was a wavering, mounted figure in the glass, his glyph glowing as brightly as a bonfire.
Swallowing thickly past the joy clogging his throat, he managed a ragged, “I am here, Elina.” Then a near giddy laugh broke from him. “As the lantern you once said I would be.”
A choked, stuttering noise escaped her. In lurching movements, she swung her leg over the horse’s back and dropped from the saddle, then stumbled to the obsidian cliff. She raised trembling fingers to touch the surface of his reflection, then spun to look behind her, her gaze searching frantically before returning to his image in the glass.
“Where?” Her voice broke on the word.
“Right behind you.” His heart thundered as he dismounted. “Where I’ve been all this time, wife.”
“But— No. No!” Grief crumpled her face. Her hand flew to her mouth and she bent over on a keening sob. “When? How?”
“I’m not dead!” In two strides Warrick was behind her, bracing his hands against the sheer obsidian, his body surrounding hers. This close, his reflection was clear and bright. “I’m not dead, Elina. I’m here. Feel me. Close your eyes, and feel me against you. Feel how I’m with you.”
Stifling her sobs against her fist, she pressed her forehead to the canyon wall. Slowly she quieted, though tears still swam in her eyes when she lifted her head and saw him in the glass.
A shuddering laugh of a breath shook from her. “Warrick?”
He grinned. “Good eve to you, wife.”
“But—” She twisted to look over her shoulder, then back to the mirror. “How?”
“The priestess warned us.”
Her brow furrowed. “She said nothing at all.”
“Not Anhera’s. The priestess who married us.” Her warmth seeped into him as he pressed closer. “When the ribbon was cut, we became as if dead to each other.”
“As if dead— Oh.” Her shoulders bowed and she clasped her hand over her eyes, her body shaking, but Warrick knew not whether she was laughing or weeping. Both, he realized when she lifted her head. Her fingers pressed to the glass again. “Is that Troll?”
“He is here with me. We each have what is ours.”
“I took your axe.”
“I gave it to you.”
Her lips folded in as if against another sob. “And you meant to take my head with it.” Sniffling, she wiped her cheeks. “You were hardly the first with that intent. But I had wished…”
Tears spilled over and she buried her face in her hands. Everything within him ached to touch her. To hold her.
Throat constricted, he said hoarsely, “You wished to be loved.”
She roughly swiped the tears away. “More fool I.”
“You are no fool. You got what you wished for.”
“When you laid eyes upon my face and your world overturned?” Her disbelieving scoff ripped at his heart. “I wanted so much to believe that stupid prophecy could become truth. To believe your heart was mine and that you’d always follow me. But when you looked upon me, you thought to kill me—and you only followed me for the jewels. Only took me to bed so that I would give them up. And to bring your friend my head.”
Follow her? Was that part of the prophecy? He’d heard nothing of that bit, then. “I did not follow you from the prison, Elina. I was ahead of you and your retinue.”
She bit her lip. “Perhaps. But you were not overturned when—”
“I did not lay eyes upon your face until the mudbeast. In the prison, all I saw was paint. The river washed it away.”
Her breath caught, her silver eyes lifting to his. Still wary. But for the first time since Bannin had spilled the story of the golden hag, a gleam of hope shined from her face.
“I saw you under the water, Elina, and gave you my breath and my heart. And I have followed you here. I would follow you anywhere.” His voice broke with emotion. “Can you still not believe? You are loved. More than anything.”
She looked at him in wonder. “All this time, you were with me?”
“Every day when you looked back upon the road, I was there. Every night, I was at your side.”
Realization dawned upon her face. “Telling me to tie the ribbon. To undo the spell. But I burned it.” Horrified tears burst from her and she wildly shook her head as if to deny everything that destroying the ribbon meant. “Warrick, I burned it. I was so angry and hurt and I just—”
“I know, Elina,” he soothed her, pressing a kiss to her head, letting her feel his warmth. “I was there. But the ribbon matters not. Love is the most powerful of all true magics. Ours will be strong enough. It will be powerful enough to overcome this spell.”