Page 199 of Lana Pecherczyk

“A cryptex.” She gently pried it from his fingers. She was so close that her hair tickled his nose as she rotated the letter discs. “You have to spell the right word, or—” She deftly clicked the ends, opened them, then closed them immediately. “See?”

“Give me a turn.” He snatched it faster than a hurricane.

“No!” She covered his hand, eyes widening. “One wrong move and it’s ruined forever.”

Cielo looked down at where she touched him.

He’d spent weeks conditioning himself to the pain of disconnecting from the Well. Weeks of repeatedly attempting to cross the wasteland. He’d almost given up. The task had seemed impossible. Every step away from the Well turned an ache into suffering. Suffering grew into agony. To torment. But his stubborn pride refused to let him give up, and his inability to think fast like Manfri left him with decision paralysis. But then something odd happened. Just as the pain was at its worst, it stayed at its worst.

Disconnection from the Well hurt, but he wasn’t dead.

Once he’d made the realization, the pain became bearable. It took over all other sensations until he became numb to it all.

Until now.

“Trust me,” she whispered. “He’ll know this is gone. The prize isn’t worth the pain.”

“But … what if it is?”

She stared at him, long and hard. He stared back, refusing to cower, refusing to tremble for a small human girl. But when she tugged the cryptex from his fingers, he let her. And when she returned it to the drawer, he said nothing. He was too busy staring at his hand, frowning at the lingering tingle in his palm.

“What about this?” She held up her brush. Waggled her book.

“We have those in Elphyne.” He shrugged.

“Ooh. I have a better idea.” She skipped away. “I know what he’ll never miss.”

Cielo tried not to stare at the desk. He really did.

But a secret from the human leader would be the biggest treasure of all. Cielo was sure even the Guardians would forgive him if he brought that back.

And she’d left the drawer open.

“The cryptex is not for sale.”

The voice snapped Cloud out of the past. His gaze narrowed on the source of his problems. The vendor had been forgotten, and the Collector now spoke with someone else. His Guardian senses picked up a wrongness in the stranger from where he stood, twenty feet away. She didn’t belong in this world—a human or … something else.

“So you admit to having it,” the woman said, triumph flaring in her eyes.

The Collector leaned toward the female and hissed, “Unless my son returns to his rightful place, it remains with me.”

Cloud had once returned to this very market and begged the Collector to return the cryptex. Offered everything he had, and she replied with those exact words.

Still so fucking stubborn.

Still so fucking greedy.

“I promised you’d never be alone,”River had said earlier.“I failed you.”

His confession confirmed what Cloud had suspected all these years—River had been jealous.

He should be furious. Bitter. Seething. He should turn the lightning in his veins toward River again. For real this time. But instead of vengeance, of rage, he saw broken wings restored to wholeness, to glory, to flight.

Through Blake.

Through a Well-blessed mate.

Cloud used to hate his decision paralysis, but now he saw it for what it was—the blessing of time.