Page 48 of Evermore (The Never Sky #3)

Thorne

T hough the little thing sat in the corner of the room with her nose stuck in a book, though I could see Paesha in the way she turned the pages, the way she didn’t blink when she was stuck in the depths of the story, I knew she was still here in this room, listening, learning.

The woman that’d raised her would’ve done nothing less. Even at the age of nine, I was sure.

Paesha hadn’t responded when I’d told her of the rainy day. Nor had she answered whether she was eating. Or sleeping. She hadn’t opened the book after her final note. But at least she’d sent the first.

I was so distracted by thoughts of Paesha and watching Quill, by the mannerisms that belonged to a woman that I didn’t deserve, for a moment, I forgot why I was here in the Syndicate house, that seemed to have no Syndicate at all, but rather a mix of made-up family.

The older woman, Elowen, handed me a hot cup of tea, keeping her eyes cast to the floor. Out of respect and absolutely nothing else, I took a sip, letting the juice of bitter grass sour on my tongue while forcing a smile. “Delicious. Thank you so much.”

She looked at me then, peering through the curtain of dark hair with the eyes of an old soul.

Sometimes mortals shocked me in that way.

When the past lives they didn’t remember peered through.

Not in the way of Paesha’s madness, but something different.

As if their soul held every memory of every life, though I knew it didn’t.

“You’re welcome here for now. But when Paesha comes home, and she will because she always does, if she says you go, then you go. I’ll stand at the door and you will not come across that threshold until I’m staring at Death’s handsome face. Are we understanding each other?”

Sometimes the easiest way to maintain power was to let others think they had it. “We understand each other.”

“Good.” She pulled a small book from her pocket and handed it to me. The hard cover was so worn, there was no longer a title, and the pages so limp, I worried they may fall from the spine. “This is her favorite. Read it. Learn something.”

Suddenly the book had a heartbeat. A lifeline. It was precious to her, which made it precious to me. “What’s it about?” I asked, scanning the ink along the title page.

“A broken woman that finds her glue.”

“A romance. Understood.”

“Something tells me you’d be surprised to learn that men are not the answer to every problem. In fact, they are usually the source.”

I slipped the book into my back pocket, accepting my role as everyone’s villain. I’d had to be the villain to save her. Had to be. “Noted.”

“If you sit on that and rip the binding, she’s going to kill you,” Quill said from the corner, finally putting her book down on the little coffee table. “Which is fine, I guess. Since you’re the problem.”

Her casual tone was far more menacing than her words.

One shouldn’t fear a child. A god should fear very little.

But she was chaos in a mortal form, darkness and light.

She was an unknown. Innocent, but only just. Still, the threat flickered through her eyes in a flash of power. So quick, mortals might not have seen.

The snap of cards against a table grabbed Quill’s attention.

She’d given me an inch and no more when it came to being in her space.

An inch was a win though. She skipped out of the room and I was left with my own thoughts as I waited for Archer to join me.

I could hear him teaching Thea another of his card games and Elowen had asked me to wait here.

I waited. Each step in equal distance to the next as I paced the floor.

Within minutes, I’d straightened the stack of books on a side table, wound the clock in the corner to match the correct time and straightened the curtain on the north wall.

A painting hung across from me, its frame tilted at a slight angle that made my eye twitch.

I fixed it with minute precision. Each imperfection seemed to call to me, begging to be corrected, set right.

Dust motes danced in the thin light that filtered through the lace curtains. I ignored them. But I couldn’t ignore the wilted flowers in the vase. I plucked one petal and the entire flower crumbled.

Fuck.

I straightened, whipping around, expecting to see a little girl staring at me from the door with her arms crossed.

Still, no one came. I dropped the dust from the flower back into the vase and decided not to touch anything else, choosing instead to sit and read the book Elowen had given me.

If Archer wanted to play a game of patience against an eternity-old god, then I guess we played. But I would win.

In the next room, his laughter rang out, punctuated by the shuffle of cards and Thea’s good natured grumbling.

It was a welcome sound. Even in the midst of all this chaos, there was still room for connection, for the simple pleasure of a shared moment.

Archer had a way about him, an ease that drew people in, made them feel at home in his company.

It was a rare gift, one I’d seen echoed in Paesha.

They both had that ability to find the light in the darkest of places, to forge bonds where others saw only walls.

But unlike him, she’d hidden behind her walls for a long time first.

After some time, the floor from the hall creaked and Archer sauntered in, a worn deck of cards still in his hands. Thea followed, leaning against the doorframe with an easy smile.

“Tell me you have a plan.” Archer dropped into the chair across from me. The casual way he shuffled his cards didn’t hide the tension in his shoulders, the worry etched around his eyes.

I studied him carefully. The Fates’ words echoed in my mind. Archer had to choose the throne of his own free will. Any attempt to manipulate or coerce him would likely void their offer entirely. And right now, with Paesha falling to madness and locked behind Alastor’s door, I couldn’t risk it.

“I think you know I don’t or you wouldn’t have kept me waiting. I’m working on several, though,” I admitted. “But I need you to?—”

“If you tell me to stay here one more time, I swear to all the gods?—”

“Actually,” Thea interrupted, perching on the arm of his chair, “I’ve been thinking about the Vale’s defenses. If we could map it out and come in from underneath?—”

“We covered this. She’s bound to him,” I said with a sigh. “She’s likely been told already she cannot leave. And his will over her is absolute. Dragging her out of there will only torture her in the long run. She needs true freedom.”

A loud thump from upstairs made me tense, but Thea waved it off. “Only Quill and Boo. They were racing around up there all day yesterday.”

I nodded, but something shifted in Archer’s expression. His cards stilled mid-shuffle. Without warning, time stopped, and he bolted from his chair. I chased after him, taking the stairs two at a time as he sprinted toward Quill’s room.

He threw the door open to reveal a scene frozen in time, Quill standing with her arms raised in surprise, a massive bookshelf tipping toward her, books already spilling from the uppermost shelves. In the split second before it would have crushed her, Archer had stopped everything.

With a huff, he shoved the bookshelf back against the wall, then gathered Quill into his arms. The moment he released his hold on time, she gasped.

“You saved me again, Archie!” She threw her arms around his neck.

“Course I did, Pencil,” he said softly, but something haunted lingered in his eyes.

“How did you know?” I demanded. “You reacted before it fell. Before anyone could have known she was in danger.”

“Lucky timing,” he said, but he wouldn’t meet my eyes. “Which is exactly why I’m needed here. You understand that, right? I can’t sit around while Paesha suffers, but I also can’t leave Quill unprotected.”

“The timing wasn’t lucky. You knew.”

“Drop it.”

“If there’s something you’re not telling me?—”

“Like you’re not telling me something? Don’t think I haven’t noticed you weighing every word since you got here. We’re supposed to be working together to save her.”

The anger in his voice matched my own rising frustration. “You need to be in fucking Stirling, at the castle with your father. ”

He shook his head, setting Quill back down on the floor. She darted for the space under the bed, calling for her dog.

“Why the hell do you care so much?” Archer’s voice was rough with emotion, but softer than I expected. “Why are you all pushing so hard?”

I took a breath, choosing my words carefully because in this moment, I saw the struggle in him.

Not the stubborn thief, not the mourning brother, but the man unsure of his entire future and, in that, we were the same.

“Because I’ve been where you are. Standing at the edge of a decision that seems impossible.

” Taking a beat, I let my guard down. “I’m not asking you to be king.

I’m asking to see your father before he dies, so you both have some kind of closure.

Regret is a horrible mistress. But whatever you decide, I’ll support it. ”

He stepped into the hall, and I followed.

“It’s not that simple. Every time I think about seeing him, I remember how he never sought my mother.

I don’t want to look at his face and see Harlow in his features.

I don’t want to stand before him and feel like we weren’t enough.

” His shoulders sagged slightly. “Harlow didn’t want him to know, and she was right, Thorne. ”

I leaned against the wall beside him, our shoulders almost touching. “Your sister was protecting you both.”

A ghost of a smile crossed his face. “She always did.”

“You know, protecting yourself isn’t weakness. You’ve built something real here. Crown jewels don’t compare to that. I just hope you don’t look back one day and wish you’d have made a different choice.”

Archer studied me for a moment, then nodded. “That’s my burden to bear.”

I pushed from the wall and clapped him on the shoulder. “I’ll let it go then.”

Those words were fire in my soul. An acceptance of my own demise, really.

Perhaps the Fates would see him on the throne one day, but it likely wouldn’t have a thing to do with me.

If I’d learned anything from Paesha, it was when to push and when to accept defeat.

Out of respect for a mourning man, a man that’d been my friend not that long ago, I walked away, nearly colliding with Aeris at the bottom of the stairs.

She looked different, younger, likely playing a game the mortals knew nothing of, but I brushed past without acknowledging her. My mind was made up.

The Fates had given their price, but I couldn’t wait for Archer to naturally choose a destiny he seemed determined to reject. Paesha needed me now. There was only one path left. I had to give Alastor what he wanted. The Forgotten beckoned, and I would answer its call. For her. Always for her.

As I walked away, I thought of my own promised future, of Ezra’s threat. She would betray me. Perhaps that was my eternity to bear.