Page 41 of Evermore (The Never Sky #3)

Thorne

T he only question that seemed to matter as we watched the door shut behind Thea as she was dragged in by Alastor’s favorite lackeys, was how in the world we were going to get her out of there. The burning mark on my neck was a reminder that I couldn’t interfere.

I turned my back on everyone, swiping my glasses away.

She was close, and she was mortal. It should be nothing to sort through Thea’s memory and discover what she was doing here.

But when I tried, when I dove into the web of magic I could typically weave in my own mind, there was nothing but an echo.

My power was gone again. And though it’d been happening more and more frequently, I was never going to be fucking used to this cage.

“We need a plan,” Tuck said, coming to stand beside me as another group of cloaked men passed, approaching the guard and gaining easy access to the Vale.

“You’re the God of Knowledge. Fucking know things. What does the guard want that we can tempt him with?”

Tuck managed a huff. “Nothing. He’s bound to Alastor’s command alone. Probably doesn’t even shit without permission.”

“We all agree Aeris sent her in there, right? There’s no way she’d have found the Vale without help,” Archer said, moving farther away from the door. “She’s got some pretty crazy magic skills though. I think if she wanted to, if she was motivated enough, she could do some real damage in there.”

Minerva inched closer. “Let’s hope she’s not foolish enough to try.”

“Well, isn’t this cozy?” Alastor stepped out of the open doors, his usual pristine appearance betrayed by the slight dishevelment of his hair, the loosened knot of his tie, the way his tattoos barely moved along his arms. He was slipping.

Whatever was happening with Paesha was affecting him too.

“A desperate fucker, a god, a loathsome prince, and whatever Tuck’s pretending to be these days, all huddled in the dark like common thieves. ”

I tried pushing against his presence with my power, testing boundaries. Nothing. Not even a flicker of response. The magic that had once flowed like a river now felt like sand slipping through my fingers.

Archer’s shoulders tensed at the word ‘prince.’ He was a fool.

Most of the time, I could count on him to be rational.

But the way he looked at Alastor made me question where this little visit would end up.

I’d protect him because that was what she would do.

Even if it meant ending up in more trouble than he was worth.

Paesha had that effect on broken things.

She collected strays, made them family. And now, if not careful, Archer would die trying to save her, just as his sister had died trying to save him.

“The boy’s looking a bit peaky,” Alastor noted, studying Archer with false concern. “Still recovering from your little time stopping adventure? Dangerous thing, wielding power you don’t understand. Ask the Huntress.” His eyes flashed to me. “Oh, wait…”

“Fuck you,” Archer spat, hand going to his sword.

I caught his wrist before he could do something monumentally stupid. “Don’t give him more of a reason to end you.”

“As if he needs it,” Archer said, fighting against my hold.

Minerva’s eyes met mine. She saw the threads I saw. Archer’s devotion was commendable. But also laced with magic. It had to be. But how? Why?

“Take our new guests inside,” Alastor said as a bevy of his men walked out of the Vale. “I’m sure we can find some way to entertain them.”

Archer slid his sword free, his eyes narrowing as he stepped between Minnie and the guards.

He had no idea that she wouldn’t need him.

Our power, the power of all gods, manifested from the adoration of mortals.

We fed on the willingness to sacrifice and worship, giving us tiny pieces of their souls with their desperation, their thoughts, their actions.

The more a god was beloved in a realm, the more they could draw from a well of power.

But that only worked as long as Ezra and I held the balance.

Minervas’s power, though? Her Wrath came from the Fates, an endless source that would never falter.

Beside me, Tuck shifted, his hand drifting to the axe at his belt.

The weapon was ancient, its handle worn smooth by centuries of use, the blade honed to a razor’s edge.

In the hands of the God of Knowledge, it was more than a mere tool.

It was almost an extension of his will, a physical manifestation of the secrets and truths he wielded like weapons.

But before either of them could make a move, Minerva’s cane tapped the ground, the sound echoing like a thunderclap in the narrow space. “Don’t,” she said quietly. “This is the path we need.”

Tuck’s eyes met mine, and I gave him an almost imperceptible nod. We’d faced worse odds. We’d survived worse games. But the air felt wrong, broken in a way that made my power curl beneath my skin like a wounded beast. What use was I with no power?

Alastor’s guards surrounded us.

I studied their formation as they closed in. Twelve shadows given form. Not Remnants, but highly trained demigods that worked only for their master. Strong enough to subdue mortals, but against pure gods? This was theater, not threat. Which meant Alastor wanted us inside for a reason.

The guards led us through the Vale’s twisting corridors, past empty merchant stalls and very few curious eyes.

My mind raced ahead, analyzing every possibility, every angle.

The general lack of people spoke volumes.

He’d nearly cleared the place out, as if he’d created a stage for whatever game he was playing.

My power roiled beneath my skin. About fucking time, but it was useless. Caged by a bargain to not interfere. Still, every instinct screamed to fight. To tear through these shadows with teeth and claws and ancient magic. But the binding held fast.

Alastor led us deeper, his casual stride a godsdamn mockery. This was his stage, and we were all simply an audience to whatever he’d orchestrated to try to break me.

“Do not,” Minerva whispered. She could feel the wrath vibrating beneath my skin. Could likely taste the tension in my cold stare at the back of Alastor’s head as we followed him.

Stopping before a door, he paused. His expression hardened. “You may watch. But interfere, and our little arrangement becomes significantly less pleasant.”

He wouldn’t have brought me down here, wouldn’t have willingly shown me what was beyond that fucking door if it wasn’t meant to break me. I braced myself. But Tuck and Minnie did too, flanking me, holding their breaths as the door swung open.

My heart stopped.

Paesha.

Ever the beauty, ever the storm. The most ferocious of every version of her.

The most beautiful. The strongest and also, perhaps, the weakest. She paced like a wounded animal, each movement fracturing my reality.

Her movements were full of shadows that weren’t shadows at all.

They were Remnants. From what Tuck and I had gathered, broken pieces of her past lives trying to claw their way out through her mind.

My knees nearly gave out. Alastor’s bargain mark blazed as I fought every instinct to go to her, to gather her against my chest and burn away whatever was tearing her apart.

Blood welled beneath my fingernails as my fists clenched and something primal stirred within me.

A god was never meant to see his soulmate, his Ever, suffer.

And I’d seen it so many times, my half of our soul was broken. She was the reason.

“The snow never melts.” She reached for phantoms none of us could see. “His promises taste like copper when they break.”

Metal glinted in Alastor’s fingers as he bent to retrieve something from the floor. His eyes fixed on Thea with predatory amusement. “Now, what’s this? Surely you weren’t planning an escape attempt?”

The color drained from Thea’s face.

But Paesha’s descent consumed me wholly.

“Dancing in gardens that died in winter. Stars falling through forever. Nothing but a game. Always a game.”

My chest felt hollow. Carved out. The binding marks might stop me from interfering, but they couldn’t stop my soul from reaching for hers, trying desperately to anchor her to reality. To this moment. To me.

But there was nothing to grab onto. She was fragments and whispers and ancient deaths playing out behind eyes that saw everything and nothing at all.

“He held me while the snow turned red. While the lies bled out.”

“Paesha?” I spoke so quietly, I wasn’t sure a single person in the room heard the word fall from my lips. But she did. She paused. Whipping around to face me, nothing but absolute hatred on her beautiful face.

My heart splintered.

I knew those words. Knew that death. That betrayal. That moment when Ezra’s blade had pushed home in a winter garden eight hundred years ago. Just one of the countless times he’d killed her, countless lives he’d stolen because I could never save her.

“Fingers?” Archer stepped forward, reaching for her.

My heart beat wildly.

Paesha’s head snapped toward Archer, her unfocused eyes sharpening for a moment. “Toes,” she said, her voice carrying an eerie singsong quality. “I can dance on toes, but the dragon huffed and puffed and blew the house down. Down, down, down.”

Archer stepped closer, his hand outstretched. “Paesha, it’s me. It’s Archer. I’m here.”

A flicker of recognition passed over her face, like a cloud parting to reveal a sliver of sunlight. Her lips curved into a small, fragile smile. “Archer.” His name was a sigh on her lips. “You came. You always will, won’t you? Until I’m free?”