Page 177 of Evermore

I nodded, accepting his terms. He had been neutral in this conflict for too long to suddenly become a threat. Only Ezra remained, his face a perfect mirror of my own, twisted with centuries of bitterness.

“And you, brother? Memory or bargain?”

“I would sooner fall to Death himself than let you use your power on me again,” he snarled, rising from his seat. “Never again.”

His eyes flicked to Paesha, a cruel smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “Besides, I have so many precious memories I’d hate to lose. Like the feel of your Huntress beneath me. The way she called my name. The taste of her skin.” He leaned forward. “I think I’ll keep those memories especially close.”

Paesha’s Remnants raced across the floor toward Ezra, but he merely laughed, stopping them with a casual flick of his wrist.

“Odd that you’re still so eager to protect her, brother. Even knowing she spreads her legs for kings now.” His gaze shifted to Archer. “Although I suppose that’s a matter of perspective. Sharing was never your strong suit.”

“Enough,” I growled, my power flaring dangerously.

“So sensitive. You know what your problem is, Reverius? You’ve never learned when to let go.” He paused at the threshold, his eyes lingering first on Quill, who had finally looked up from her book, then shifting meaningfully to Archer. “We should chat, Majesty. I have a feeling your story would be quite interesting to my Unmade.”

Archer’s face hardened, but he said nothing.

“Something to consider, perhaps, when you’re done playing house with my brother’s leftovers.”

With a final smirk, he walked through the barrier I had created as if it were nothing more than mist, a reminder that for all my power, he was still my equal.

The onslaught of pressure from using that much magic to bargain nearly stole my fucking breath, but the price was necessary. Some burdens were meant to be carried alone. I watched as a tear trekked down Paesha’s cheek and Archer swiped it away, knowing without a doubt that some weren’t.

55

Paesha

Moonlight spilled through the tall windows of the ballroom, casting long silver fingers across the polished floor. I moved through its glow in slow, deliberate steps, my bare feet silent against the cold marble. The vast room echoed with emptiness, yet I wasn’t alone. Never alone.

Dance faster, Winter urged, her form gliding beside me.Your movements are weak.

“They’re mine,” I whispered, continuing my slow waltz with no partner but the shadows. “I decide how I move.”

You’re falling apart, Sylvie taunted from the other side.Soon there’ll be nothing left but us. Let’s play a game. Turn to the right.

“No.”

Yes.

It wasn’t my choice. I spun to the right. “No.”

Delightful.

I closed my eyes, letting my body sway to music only I could hear. “I’m still here.”

For now.Promises break. Like minds. Like souls.Like hearts.

I spun faster, as if I could outrun their voices, their doubts, their cruel certainties. The room tilted and whirled around me, moonlight and shadow blending into a dizzying kaleidoscope.

“I can hold on,” I said, more to myself than to them. “I can?—”

“Paesha?”

I froze mid-spin, nearly losing my balance. Archer stood in the doorway, his golden hair disheveled, as if he’d run his fingers through it too many times. He wore simple clothes, loose trousers and a plain white shirt with the sleeves rolled up rather than the formal attire expected of a king. The crown was noticeably absent.

“I’m sorry,” I said quickly, smoothing down my dress with trembling hands. “Did I wake you?”

He shook his head, stepping into the room. “Couldn’t sleep. Apparently neither could you.”