Page 54 of Evermore (The Never Sky #3)

Paesha

M y father had told me stories. They’d been fantastical and whimsical and an escape just like this one.

But Thorne’s story wasn’t plucked from an imagination.

It’d been his story. His real life. He was avoiding everything sad.

Avoiding all the times he’d loved and lost. But within his words, I could feel the women he avoided mentioning, the Remnants he remembered shifting closer, waiting to hear if he spoke their names.

Waiting to see if he remembered their love and even the final moments of their deaths.

For the first time in ages, they’d been quiet, listening to the man they’d each let themselves love remember his life with them, even if he was avoiding the details for my sake.

And while he spoke I curled into that small corner of my mind that was only for me, avoiding them all as the world finally felt still and quiet.

Not even the black swirls around my wrists burned.

For a second, within the hushed tones of a desperate man’s voice, I was free.

The voices could be as poisonous and hateful as they wanted because he’d tricked each of them into falling in love with him.

But they had fallen, like I had. Perhaps they were trying to protect me.

But it was more than that. It was revenge.

Unwavering vengeance. Even as they listened to the quiet lulls between his words.

Something that didn’t feel like hatred seeped into my tiny corner though.

Something that felt like understanding and defiance.

A new Remnant, maybe. A silent one. That met me in the only place there was peace.

Whatever it was simply curled around me for a second and whisked away, leaving me aching for the soothing way she’d comforted me and then left me to my solitude.

As Thorne’s voice faded into the eerie silence of our temporary refuge, I felt the weight of exhaustion settle deep in my bones. I wanted nothing more than to surrender to the oblivion of sleep, to let the darkness take me far away from this nightmare and the god who haunted my every step.

My thoughts drifted to Quill, her serious face and boundless curiosity a balm to my battered soul.

I tried to picture her eyes, to conjure the exact shade of her hair, but the details slipped away like water through cupped hands.

Panic rising, I reached for other memories, other anchors to the life I’d known.

Archer’s easy smile, the sound of the coins he carried in his pockets, those remained clear.

But Elowen? I could see her kind face, hear the cadence of her voice, but the color of her eyes eluded me, fading into a blur.

I jerked upright and Thorne was on his feet in an instant, spinning toward the opening of the crumbling shelter. “What’s wrong?”

“I can’t remember,” I whispered, my voice trembling. “Quill’s hair, Elowen’s eyes… it’s like they’re fading away.”

He turned back to me and fell to his knees, his eyes widened. “The Forgotten. Of course. It’s not simply a prison. The longer we stay here, the more it will strip away from you.”

I shook my head. “I can’t lose them, Thorne. I can’t lose myself.”

He reached for me, his touch gentle as he cradled my face in his hands. “You won’t. I won’t let that happen.”

I watched as he closed his eyes, his brow furrowing in concentration.

A faint golden glow began to emanate from his skin, growing brighter with each passing second until it enveloped us both in its warm radiance.

I gasped as the light seeped into my mind, illuminating the corners where my memories had begun to fade.

Suddenly, I could see Quill’s wild brown curls, hear Elowen’s soothing lilt, feel the love and laughter that had sustained me through so many trials.

It was ridiculous to mourn something so simple and I knew it.

But when everything in my mind was a battle, I couldn’t lose something else.

The godsdamn tears burned as they filled my eyes.

I was so fucking beaten down and done. But Thorne’s magic wove a delicate shield around my thoughts, protecting them from the Forgotten’s insidious grasp.

As I settled into the relief of having my most precious memories restored, I couldn’t help but notice the toll it took on him.

His face grew pale, lines of strain appearing around his eyes and mouth as he poured more and more of his power into the effort of safeguarding my mind.

I shoved him away from me, breaking the connection. “Stop.”

“A thousand years of agony would be worth it, if it meant keeping you whole,” he said. “I made this prison, Paesha. I filled it with horrible things and shattered lives. The least I can do is shield you from its cruelty.”

“It’s not the least you could do, but draining yourself when we’re sitting here like prey waiting to be plucked up by whatever other nightmares exist in this place seems foolish.”

“I’m not going to let anything happen to you. You realize that, right? I need you to look at me and see the truth in those words.”

I snorted, rising to my feet as the fury I’d been holding on to for this man continued to grow.

He didn’t get it. Didn’t see his own damn lies.

“I need you to look at me and see every life I lost in your arms before you say shit like that. You’re wrong.

I’m damned. The Hunted and the Huntress, remember?

There’s not a fucking thing you can do to stop where this is going and we all know that.

But keep saying all the pretty words that make you feel better about yourself so when I die, you can think back on the moments you lied to my face about your devout protection and see the look in my eyes as I believed you.

Shall we fucking pretend right now? Will that make you feel better?

Soothe your soul? That’s all that matters, right?

That you feel better about yourself when I die? ”

He took a deep breath and moved to his feet, crossing his arms over his chest. The glint in his glasses infuriated me. He probably didn’t even need those.

“You want to lay it all out there?” he asked. “Tell me what you want from me. Stop condemning me and tell me how I make this better for you, dammit. I can’t fix it if you aren’t going to let me.”

“Fix it? What do you mean, fix it? If you haven’t been able to stop this cycle for a thousand lifetimes, what makes you so confident this is your redemption life?”

“Because you’re still fucking here. Now tell me what you want from me.”

I shook my head, hardly able to breathe beyond the audacity of that damn question nor the answer.

“I want the impossible. I want to go back to a time before I knew the truth about you, about us. I want to forget every lie, every betrayal, every moment I spent falling for a man who was nothing more than a godsdamn mask.”

Thorne flinched as if I’d struck him, but he held his ground. “I never lied about my feelings for you, Paesha. Not once. Every time I held you, every time I hoped to save you, it was real.”

Shadows swarmed around my feet, eager for the anger boiling within me to spill over. They turned to claws, reaching into the ground and digging.

“No. That shit was still wrapped in lies. Lord of the Salt? Suffering beneath the hand of a prince? No wonder you were so pissed when Archer and I went down to his lair. You had no control, even in the reality you concocted. There was no need to fear him. You were the villain in all of that, weren’t you?

You could have stopped him at any point, and you didn’t because it didn’t fit your fucking narrative.

” I laughed. “You couldn’t stop yourself from playing god, from orchestrating misery over and over again.

What kind of love is that, Thorne? What kind of twisted devotion leads to centuries of suffering? ”

“The kind that’s too stubborn to let go,” he said, his voice low and fierce. “My power is failing. I couldn’t kill the prince because he’s protected by the Fates’ law. Gods cannot directly kill or stop a royal. Those thrones come with their own ranks of power.”

I scoffed, disbelief coloring my words. “Harlow died at the hands of Ezra’s men, and she was technically a princess, so keep lying. Dig your holes, fucker. But I’ll dig deeper. I’ll dig a grave and let you fall in.”

“It doesn’t matter,” he countered. “She wasn’t recognized. The law only applies to acknowledged heirs. It’s part of the balance. Everything is part of the failing balance.”

“That doesn’t make sense,” I argued, my voice rising with each word. “If it were true and you wanted to keep me alive, then why not put me on a fucking throne and let me live?”

Thorne’s shoulders slumped, the fight draining out of him as he looked at me with an expression so raw, so vulnerable, it stole my breath.

“I tried, Paesha. In one lifetime, I did everything in my power to guide you back to a throne you’d lost. You were already a queen, but you’d lost your crown.

” He closed his eyes, pain etched into every line of his face.

“The moment I broke and told you everything about our connection, it all fell apart. You were killed almost immediately.”

I swallowed hard, a distant memory tugging at the edges of my consciousness.

A flash of a crown, heavy upon my brow. The bitter taste of hard truths.

And beneath it all, a love so fierce, so consuming, it burned like wildfire in my veins.

In that confession, I could feel her again.

The fallen queen that sent another wave of peace into that corner of my mind the others couldn’t find.

She’d known. She’d known and loved him anyway.

“I couldn’t bear to watch you die like that again,” Thorne said. “So I stopped trying to interfere with mortal thrones.”

The scowl never left my face. “How terrible that must have been for you.”

He shook his head. “With or without me, you were always going to die.”