Page 163 of Evermore

I grabbed one of her discarded shoes and hurled it at the door. “Fuck off, Your Majesty.”

“I’ll take that as a yes.” A beat of silence. “So you guys want to get some food or something?”

Paesha laughed against my chest. “Give us a minute.”

“You’ve had plenty of minutes. Very loud minutes, I might add.”

I grabbed the other shoe. “I will end your reign before it begins.”

“Can’t. You love me too much now.” The smirk was audible in his voice. “Plus, I’m pretty sure Paesha would end yours. Now hurry up. The kitchen made those little pies you like.”

“I hate him,” I muttered, even as Paesha slid from the dresser with a knowing smile.

“You really don’t.” She started gathering her clothes. “And he did help orchestrate an entire fake wedding so we could be together.”

“The pies better be worth it,” I called toward the door.

“They’re the ones with the honey drizzle!”

I looked at Paesha. “I hate that he knows my weaknesses.”

“Wait until Quill realizes she can bribe you with pastries too.” She pressed a quick kiss to my lips. “Now help me find my other shoe.”

51

Thorne

The tear was exactly where it had always been, a jagged gash in reality that rippled like cloth in a wind that didn’t exist. I didn’t hesitate, didn’t pause to consider what awaited me on the other side. I stepped through, feeling my body tear apart and reform in the space of a single heartbeat.

The Fates’ void stretched before me, endless and all consuming. Raw potential crackled through the air, each spark a future struggling to be born. But something was wrong. Where before the void had been filled with the presence of the Fates, their voices echoing through my bones, their power pressing against my skin, now there was only silence. A maddening, oppressive quiet that scraped against my nerves like fingernails on glass.

“I know you’re here. Show yourselves!”

Nothing. Not even an echo.

I moved deeper in, boots scraping against something that wasn’t quite floor. Occasionally, a thin thread of fate drifted past, glowing with the promise it represented. But no voices rose to challenge me. No beings emerged from the darkness.

I could hear the loom, though. The soft, rhythmic creaking of ancient wood bearing the weight of all destinies. The sound wasmaddening in its constancy, a reminder of their presence despite their refusal to appear.

“We had a bargain!” I shouted into the darkness, fury rising like bile in my throat. “Archer Bramwell sits upon the throne of Stirling! His blood mingles with the ancient power of that seat! You swore you would hear me when that came to pass!”

The silence that followed felt deliberate, mocking. I could almost feel their amusement at my desperation, could practically taste their satisfaction at forcing me to beg. But I would beg for her. For her sanity. Her control.

“Answer me, damn you!”

Still nothing.

My patience, already worn thin, snapped completely. I reached out and grabbed the nearest thread of fate, feeling it hum with life between my fingers. Without hesitation, I snapped it. The sound echoed, not the physical breaking of the thread, but the scream that accompanied it. A thousand voices cried out at once, their anguish reverberating through the void.

“You think I won’t do worse?” I snarled, reaching for another. “You think I don’t have it in me to tear your precious weaving apart strand by strand?”

I broke another thread, then another, each snap sending shockwaves through the void. Power surged from me in violent waves, warping the space around me.

“We had a fucking deal! A queen sits on the throne beside him, a queen driven to madness by voices you could silence with a word! Weave a change in her fate, dammit.” The words burned like embers on my tongue, but I forced them out. “I fulfilled my end of the bargain. Now fulfill yours!”

The loom’s rhythm never faltered, never changed. They were ignoring me. Deliberately. Callously. They’d never promised to help, only hear me. And now they had. Undoubtedly. I twisted the drifting threads around my fist, watching them wither andblacken at my touch. “You were so desperate to crown Archer Bramwell, did you consider the mad queen? Did you know? She hears voices. She sees people. She will surely bring that realm to ruin, if you don’t help her.”

I would do anything in my power to keep that from happening because the guilt of that would ruin her, but there were words that held power here. Truths that were stronger than the lies. Still they said fucking nothing.