Page 61 of Crown of the Mist
This is not how it was supposed to happen.
I pace the length of my chamber, shadows dancing at my feet as her emotions surge through our connection. Fear. Betrayal. That bone-deep certainty that she's worth nothing more than what others would take from her.
No, little flame. You're worth so much more.
But she can't hear me. Not yet. And her guardians—those five souls who've loved her longer than they realize—they're fumbling in the dark, trying to protect her while unknowingly pushing her further away.
The mirror ripples as I press my palm against it, its surface shimmering like disturbed water. Through it, I catch glimpses: Rhett's bloody knuckles, the daisy pulsing with power he doesn't understand. Gray's calculated fury as he holds the others back, knowing they can't chase her. Not this time.
They don't realize what's at stake. How close she is to breaking completely.
Phil’s words have cut deep, reopening old scars, making her doubt even those who truly love her. But it’s not just manipulation—it’s preparation. He isn’t lying about her father. He’s working for him. He’s always been working for him."
"And she has no idea what that truly means.
The mist surges, and for a moment I see her through its eyes: running through the cemetery, tears she won't let fall burning in her eyes. The crown's mark burns beneath my skin in response, a sharp reminder of everything that's yet to come.
"Run if you must, little flame," I murmur to the empty air. "But remember—some bonds can't be broken. Not even by fear."
The mist coils tighter, carrying the echo of her heartbeat. Of their worry. Of destiny slowly, inexorably, pulling them all toward what they're meant to become.
Together.
If only they knew.
38. Theo
The cemetery is too quiet in the wake of Bree's departure. Gray still has a firm grip on Jace's arm, though the fight has drained from both of them. The mist lingers at our feet, restless and cold, like it's as torn as we are between chasing her and letting her go.
"She heard us wrong," Jace says, his voice rough. "In the attic. She must have—"
"She heard exactly what she expected to hear," I cut in, the words tasting bitter. "What she's been conditioned to expect."
Movement catches my eye - Rhett, still staring at the daisy in his palm. It pulses faintly, the glow matching the rhythm of the mist swirling around us. Something about the sight tugs at my memory, like a half-remembered dream.
We've been here before.
The thought comes unbidden, nonsensical. But it settles in my chest with a weight that feels somehow familiar.
"She's going back to her apartment," Gray says, finally releasing Jace. His sharp eyes scan the horizon where Bree disappeared, calculating. "It's what she knows."
"It's not safe," Wes says quietly. He stands slightly apart from us, his dark eyes focused on something distant. "Not with Phil—"
"Phil's the least of our concerns right now," I say, though the words feel wrong even as they leave my mouth. Like I'm missing something crucial. "She thinks we see her the way he does. The way her father does."
Rhett's fingers close around the daisy, and I swear the temperature drops several degrees. "We have to fix this."
"How?" Jace demands, running a hand through his hair. "She won't even look at us. Won't let us explain—"
"Then we don't explain," Gray cuts in, his voice carrying that edge of steel it gets when he's found a solution none of us will like. "We show her."
The mist shifts, coiling around our feet in a pattern that makes my head spin. For a moment,just a breath, it forms shapes that look almost like crowns before dissolving back into formless vapor.
"Show her what?" Wes asks, but there's something in his tone that suggests he already knows.
"Everything," Gray says simply. "No more holding back. No more careful distance. We show her exactly what she means to us."
The words resonate through me like a bell being struck, stirring something that feels older than memory. My hands tingle with phantom sensation, like they remember touching something ancient and powerful.