Page 89 of Evermore (The Never Sky #3)

Thorne

I stumbled toward the door, needing air, needing escape, needing anything but the crushing weight of this loss and whatever company meant to soothe me on the other side of it.

I yanked it open, meeting a fist raised to knock again.

Archer stood in my doorway, still in his wedding finery, though his crown was conspicuously absent.

His usual easy smile was replaced by something more solemn as he took in my face, the destruction of my chambers, the obvious breaking he’d walked into.

“I’ve been a king for less than three hours and the Lord of the Salt is already destroying my castle.”

“So it’s going well,” I replied, trying hard to come up to his level rather than drowning in my pit of despair.

His eyes swept over me again. “Can I come in?”

I stepped back, too drained to even conjure irritation at his presence. “Come to gloat?”

“Actually,” he said, moving past me into the room, “I came to tell you that you’re an idiot.”

That startled a harsh laugh from me. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me.” He turned to face me, and there was something both gentle and firm in his expression. “Did you really think she could go through with it? Actually marry me when she’s clearly in love with you?”

My mind stuttered over his words. “What are you talking about? I just watched?—”

“You watched a very convincing performance,” he said, leaning against what remained of my desk.

“Minerva’s quite brilliant, you know. She found the loopholes weeks ago.

The law requires rulers to be bound, yes, but it never specifies how they must be bound.

The Treeis mark connecting us was enough.

The ceremony appeared to be a wedding, but the markings, the words, even that golden thread, it was all carefully crafted to create an alliance, not a marriage.

Minnie’s a beast when it comes to circumventing laws. ”

I stared at him, my heart stumbling over its rhythm as his words sank in. “But the vows?—”

“Were about choosing each other as partners in protecting the realm. Go back and listen to them in your mind. We never once said ‘husband’ or ‘wife.’” His smile turned wry.

“I would have done it, you know. Would have married her for real if that’s what it took to keep her safe.

No matter how much you might have hated me for it.

But she’s the one who couldn’t do it. She and Minerva have been working on this plan for weeks. ”

“Why didn’t she tell me?”

“We needed everyone to believe it was real. Including you. Including Ezra, who we knew would be watching. Your devastation sold it better than anything else could have.”

I leaned against the wall to hold myself up, my mind reeling. “She’s not your wife.”

“No.” His voice softened. “She’s not. And she’s waiting for you, by the way. In her room.”

I looked up sharply. “What?”

“Gods. Keep up, would you?” He pushed off from the desk, heading for the door. “Go to her. And next time, try trusting that she knows her own heart.”

He paused in the doorway, glancing back with that familiar mischievous glint in his eyes. “Oh, and Thorne? You might want to change first. You look like shit.”

“If I wasn’t contemplating kissing you right on the mouth, I’d punch you in it,” I said, throwing my arm around his shoulder, and digging my knuckles into his hair. “You’re the greatest mortal I’ve ever had the pleasure of knowing.”

“Hey,” he ducked away. “Not the hair. I’m a king now. I can’t walk around here all roughed up. Plus, my wife’s a demigod. She’ll kick your ass.”

She stood before the mirror in her chambers, still wearing the godsdamn wedding dress that had nearly killed me. The Remnants swirled around her like living smoke, more agitated than usual, reflecting the turmoil I could see in her eyes even from across the room.

“You’re wearing my ring,” I said, my voice rougher than intended.

She met my gaze in the mirror, her fingers instinctively moving to touch the band I’d given her. “Did you really think I’d wear any other?”

I crossed the room in three strides, turning her to face me. “Do you have any idea what you did to me today? What these last three weeks have felt like?”

“Do you have any idea what you’ve done to me across lifetimes?” But there was no bite in her words, only a terrible understanding. Her eyes flickered to something over my shoulder, and I knew she was seeing one of them. The past lives that never left her alone.

I caught her chin, bringing her focus back to me. “I love you. Recklessly. Selfishly. Probably to both our detriment.”

“I know.” Her hand came up to cover mine.

“Everything you’ve ever done, every choice, every sacrifice, it’s all been love.

Imperfect and messy and absolutely beautiful.

” She drew a shaky breath. “Even before you found me in Death’s Court, you gave me the space to choose.

To love him. To make my own path. I know what that must have cost you.

To watch me fall for your brother, knowing I was your Ever. ”

“It doesn’t matter now.”

“It matters to me.” Her fingers tightened on mine.

“What I felt for Ezra, it was real, but it was a shadow of this. I loved him because he made me feel controlled when I thought I was spiraling. But you?” Her eyes met mine, fierce and certain.

“You gave me back my control. You showed me how to embrace the chaos instead of fearing it. I needed time to understand that. To understand myself. And even when it was killing you, you gave me that too.”

She had no idea how desperately I needed to hear those words. To know she saw me, not just the god, not just the Keeper, but the broken pieces I’d become while loving her. The man who would burn worlds to find her and then let her walk away if that was what she needed.

This wasn’t the crushing weight of destiny or the pull of fate.

This was something far more terrifying, far more beautiful.

This was choice. Raw and messy and real.

This was love carved from pain, tempered in sacrifice, made stronger by every scar we’d given each other.

A love we’d chosen in spite of everything, or maybe because of it.

A shadow passed over her face as she answered something I couldn’t hear. The Remnants churned faster, darker.

“I’m going to the Fates,” I said, my thumb brushing over her cheek. “I won’t watch you suffer like this.”

“I need to be vulnerable for a minute. I don’t want to be, but I need to say the words.”

“You don’t have to give a warning before you’re vulnerable with me. Ever.”

She nodded. “It’s not the suffering. Today was necessary, but it was another reminder that I’m setting myself up for failure.

I’m going to fail him.” Her eyes tracked something I couldn’t see moving across the room.

“Some days I can almost bear it. But other days… I’m afraid, Thorne.

Afraid I’ll lose myself in their voices.

Afraid one day I won’t be able to tell which thoughts are mine and which belong to the ghosts of women I used to be.

What happens when the court realizes their queen is mad?

When they turn on Archer because of me?”

“I won’t let that happen.”

“You can’t promise that.” She met my eyes, and the raw fear there gutted me.

“What if I forget how to hear anything but their poison? What if—” She broke off, attention snapping to something over my shoulder.

“Shut up!” The words tore from her throat, desperate and ragged. “Just shut up for one fucking minute!”

I grabbed her face between my hands, forcing her focus back to me. “Listen to me. When I stood there today, watching you with him, I thought I was dying. But this? Watching you suffer? That’s worse.” I pressed my forehead to hers. “I’m going to the Fates. And I don’t care what price they demand.”

“You own every piece of me,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “Every life. Every death. Every broken bit of my soul matches yours. That’s why it hurts so much. Because they’re all screaming for you right now, and I can’t make them stop.”

“Then let me in. Let me be louder than their screams. Let me remind you which voice is real.” My fingers traced the curve of her jaw, her neck, feeling her pulse race beneath my touch. “The Fates can wait until morning. Right now, I need you to remember who you are.”

Golden threads of memory magic spun between us as I opened my mind to hers.

Not to take or change, but to give. To show her the moments that defined her beyond the deaths and pain.

Us holding each other in the Parlor, her laugh echoing off stone walls as I pulled her closer.

Quill’s tiny fingers finding hers that first day, trust shining in those eyes.

The fierce pride in her stance as she stood beside Thea, facing down the Maestro with unflinching courage.

The joy in her movements as she and Archer danced through the Hollow’s shadows, their friendship a light in the darkness.

The Remnants calmed as the memories washed over her, their chaotic swirling settling into gentler patterns.

Relief flooded her eyes, and for a moment, she let herself fall forward, leaning into me, letting me try to soothe her.

I wrapped my arms around her, holding her to my chest, giving her as much time as she needed to remember who she was, that she was not alone.

I had her. Archer had her. Hell, every one of us had her.

And we would build the walls for her if that was what she needed.

She exhaled softly against my chest, her breath warm, grounding. Then, she pulled back to meet my gaze, something fierce and unshaken settling in her eyes. Her fingers slid into my hair, tugging me down, and before I could draw another breath, her lips found mine.