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T he room immediately felt colder after Cora was gone. Teryn stared at the empty space where his fiancée had been just a moment before, awed at how suddenly she’d disappeared. It was the first time she’d used her traveling magic while he was watching her. She’d first used it at the battle at Centerpointe Rock. Then again last summer to escape Morkai’s clutches while he’d possessed Teryn’s body. Finally, she’d used it to lock a strange magic-suppressing collar around his neck to momentarily free Teryn’s body from the mage’s control.

It hadn’t been until he’d gotten well enough to write to Cora that he’d learned the whole story of what had happened that night. About Cora’s newest power. Its strengths and limitations. Where Cora had been before she’d arrived at the meadow. How she’d gotten there. What the collar was and how it had been used against her when she’d unintentionally crossed worlds to enter the fae realm.

Just when he thought she couldn’t impress him more, she was always proving just how incredible she was. And now that they’d finally seen each other for the first time in seven months, he was reminded how good she felt. How good she smelled. The sound of her voice. The rhythm of her sighs. Kissing her, touching her, had made him feel so alive. So immersed in his body.

He still had nightmares of what it felt like to be trapped in Morkai’s crystal. A disembodied spirit. At night, he often startled awake, panting, shouting into the dark just to hear a voice that was his own, clawing at his skin to ensure he could feel it. During the day, he did whatever he could to feel alive. Walking. Moving. Talking. Writing. Three months ago, he’d been given the go-ahead by his physicians to take up strenuous activity, so he’d thrown himself into training. Sword. Spear. Glaive. Halberd. Anything that would ignite a fire in his muscles and remind him he was the sole operator of his body.

But none of that had made him feel as whole as when his lips had met Cora’s, as desire coursed through him like a raging fire when he’d pressed closer to her on that dresser. He smirked at that piece of furniture now. He’d probably come on a touch too strong, but he’d been unable to help himself. He hadn’t expected her to show up in his room out of nowhere. It had thrown all his polite, respectful plans out the window. He’d meant to greet her formally, reunite with her softly, and ease them both into the marriage they were about to embark upon.

He barked a laugh. How naive he’d been. There’d been nothing soft, formal, or polite about the way he’d kissed her, nor she him. There certainly hadn’t been any of that in the way her hands had roved his chest. The fingertips she’d tucked under his waistband, absently working to free the button of his trousers.

Clenching his jaw, he curled his fists. It was all he could do to keep from taking himself in hand and releasing the aching tension she’d built inside him. Instead, his only release was a heavy exhale, for now was not the time to act on his baser instincts. Not when he had an audience.

Banishing all thoughts of Cora on the dresser, he secured the top button of his trousers and addressed the woman who stood in the corner of his room. “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t spy on intimate moments between me and my future wife, Emylia.”

The woman’s eyes widened. Her form was semi-transparent and devoid of color, but Teryn had known her when they were both spirits—etheras—and had seen her with brown skin, dark eyes, and black curls.

She brought a hand to her mouth, then dropped it. “You…you can see me?”

“I can.” He retrieved his discarded riding tunic from the end of his bed and pulled it over his head. There was no point in trying to nap now. He’d been eager for rest after his hasty ride to Ridine Castle, for the activity had strained him. He hadn’t anticipated a need to reacquaint his body with riding, thinking his weapons training had been enough to strengthen him overall. But no, every activity Teryn had once enjoyed now required a period of adaptation. He still had endurance to strengthen. Stamina to increase.

At least his surprise visit from Cora had cleared away his fatigue.

With his tunic on, he turned to face Emylia fully. She shrank away from him, as if suddenly afraid. Then, with a shake of her head, she seemed to remember herself.

“I’m sorry,” she said. Her voice was soft and lacked the resonance it would have if she were alive, but he could still make out her words. “I had no idea you could see me.”

“That’s what you’re sorry for? Not that you were spying on a clearly private moment? How long were you going to watch?” He’d been vaguely aware of her presence—or at least some presence, tickling the back of his neck—ever since Cora had entered his room. Strange presences had become common to him over the last several months, so he’d been able to ignore it and give all his attention to Cora.

Emylia shrugged. “I see a lot of things these days that are considered taboo or private. I suppose I’ve lost that sense of propriety.”

“Why are you here?”

“I heard you’d arrived. I wanted to see that you were well.”

“No, why are you here ? In this plane of existence. Why haven’t you moved on?”

Her expression turned mournful. “I tried to move on to the otherlife, but I was blocked.”

His breath caught. “Is it Morkai?” He hated saying the name out loud. Hated the way it made his skin crawl and made him fear he was merely a visitor in this body and not its owner.

“No,” she said, holding up her hands in a placating gesture. “It’s nothing like that.”

Relief uncoiled his muscles. The last thing he needed was for Morkai to return in any form, even to torment the dead. The mage had already conquered death once. But Morkai was gone for good. Teryn had witnessed the mage’s final death last summer, watched as his soul was burned to ash by flames of white light.

Emylia spoke again. “It’s more like…I’m the one who’s stopping me. There’s too much heaviness here.” She placed her hand on her chest.

He frowned. Emylia had told him that an ethera without a heart-center would become a wraith. But she still had her heart-center, and she was nothing like the terrifying, mindless wraiths he’d once fought at Centerpointe Rock, courtesy of Morkai’s blood magic. So what was she?

“Are you a ghost?” he asked.

She gave him a wry smile. “I’m an ethera with unfinished business, so I suppose ghost is an adequate term.” When Teryn only nodded, she added, “You’re taking this rather well. I would have expected more shock.”

Teryn debated keeping quiet about the next part but relented. “You’re not the only apparition I’ve seen lately,” he quietly confessed.

She moved closer to him. “What do you mean?”

“Ever since I returned to my body, I’ve been able to see spirits.” His eyes unfocused as he recalled his terror in the early days of regaining consciousness. Every now and then he’d catch sight of floating lights, hazy unaware figures who’d wander in through one wall and out another, or colorless specters who seemed keen enough to witness the present—much like Emylia. At first, the visions had caused great distress, sparking fears that he was one of them, or that they were here to drag him back to the spiritual plane. As months went on and none had interacted with him, much less harmed him, his fears lessened. By now, he was used to it.

Emylia’s mouth fell open. “How? Why?”

“I don’t know. I would guess it has to do with the fact that I was once an ethera. Or perhaps that I nearly died.”

Emylia didn’t seem to know what to say to that, and Teryn didn’t like the pitying look in her eyes.

“Enough about me,” he said. “Where have you been all this time? Are you trapped here? Because your ethera was freed nearby?”

“No, I can wander to any location I’ve been before, but I’ve chosen to stay at Ridine.”

“Is this where you have unfinished business?”

“In a way.” Her expression turned mournful again. She drifted toward Teryn, then halted in place. She blinked at him a few times, looking as startled as she’d been when he’d first faced her.

“What is it? Why do you keep looking at me like you’re afraid?”

She shook her head as if to clear it. “I don’t know. Maybe I’m just not used to seeing you like this. You fully alive, while I’m the only one who’s a spirit.”

That made sense. It was strange seeing her as a colorless being, and not the bright figure he’d known in the crystal.

She settled upon the closed trunk at the foot of Teryn’s bed. “I can’t shake my guilt over what I’ve done. Particularly how my actions have hurt Cora. So I’ve stayed close by and watched over her.”

A bittersweet ache pounded in Teryn’s chest. He was glad she’d chosen to watch over Cora, but at the same time, she deserved to move on. Even though she’d used her powers as a seer to channel vital information for Morkai—information that had led to countless tragedies at the mage’s hands—she was sorry for her role. Love had driven her actions, a blind and reckless love that Teryn could neither condone nor condemn.

Love was madness. Treacherous and beautiful all at once. It could start wars or end them. Could save a life or destroy it.

Emylia had experienced the darkest kind of love. Because of its invisible scars, even the peaceful embrace of the otherlife eluded her.

“How has Cora been?” he asked. “I know what she’s conveyed in her letters, but I worry she might be acting like she’s fine when she isn’t.”

“It has been hard for her,” Emylia said. “She doesn’t let her pain show around others.”

He couldn’t imagine how painful the last seven months had been for Cora. He’d been nervous to come back to Ridine, terrified over what memories his return might conjure, what new nightmares might await. Yet Cora had stayed the entire time. Stayed in a castle where a blood mage had terrorized her. Stayed in the last place she’d seen her brother alive.

He’d have stayed too, if the choice to leave for Dermaine Palace hadn’t been made for him while he’d been unwell. Ridine had still been in the process of being restaffed back then and hadn’t had the medical advancements Dermaine offered. Teryn would have suffered less adequate care if he’d been lucid enough to say so, but neither Cora nor Larylis had given him that choice. His healing had been too important to them. So he and Cora had been separated with nothing to connect them but letters. Cora couldn’t even use her special ability to visit him, for she needed to be familiar with a place to travel there. He’d worried she’d been suffering on her own, crowned queen in the wake of her brother’s death, surrounded by strangers yet again.

The only good that had come from the situation was that Cora had been able to take her crown on her own merit. Lords Kevan and Ulrich were gone, as was King Verdian, leaving no one to diminish Cora’s worth as queen, no one to say she couldn’t be her brother’s heir until after she’d married Teryn. She’d been sent new councilmen from Vera, ones selected by Larylis—and Teryn, once he’d been of sound mind—particularly for their loyalty and open-mindedness.

Still, it had to have been lonely. Painful. Teryn hated that he hadn’t been here. Hated that Cora hadn’t allowed him to come sooner.

But at least someone had been here to watch over her.

“Thank you,” he said, giving Emylia a deep nod. “Thank you for being here when I could not.”

Her lips curved in a sad smile. “I haven’t found a way to be helpful, but I hope there’s something I can do. Something that will allow me to make up for my sins.”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know, but perhaps the fact that you can see me will matter. I’ve already told you nearly everything I know about Darius, but perhaps there are other things I can recall. Other things I can discover.”

Teryn stiffened. King Darius was a constant source of dread for him, Cora, Larylis, and Mareleau—for everyone who knew the truth. Once Teryn had been well enough to speak and write, he’d conveyed what he’d learned from Emylia while he’d been trapped in the crystal, and Cora had done the same with what she’d learned in El’Ara. Together they’d painted a frightening landscape of possibilities. Only a handful of their most trusted advisors knew what they knew, but they were all of one mind—Darius was not a threat they could ignore.

“He’s still alive,” Emylia said. “I can’t see him, for I can only wander places I’ve been myself, either as a living being or as a spirit, but I’ve devoured all the information Cora has learned and tested it with my own knowledge. King Darius has ruled Syrus for five hundred years. Most assume Darius is merely a naming convention passed down through heirs, but I know better than to hope that’s the truth. The current King Darius is the same man who sent his son to find information on El’Ara.”

Teryn nodded. He and Cora had surmised as much in their correspondence, but anything beyond that was guesswork. “Do you believe Morkai conveyed what he’d learned about Lela? About…Cora?”

Learning what Morkai had done to Cora—cursing her to never bear children during her lifetime—had nearly broken him. Morkai had done it to stop a prophecy from coming to fruition, one that predicted Cora would bear the true Morkara , the ruler of the fae realm. Should her child be born, the Veil separating the two worlds would tear, compromising the protective ward that had been forged to keep worldwalkers from entering El’Ara. But somehow, it would also put an end to Darius. According to the memories Emylia had shared with Teryn while they were in the crystal, Morkai had eventually abandoned Darius and had taken his father’s mission as his own, long before he uncovered Cora’s identity. Was there any hope that Morkai had never shared his later findings with Darius?

“I don’t know for certain,” Emylia said, “but I assume Morkai told him everything. If not while he was still alive, then upon his death. Even though Morkai abandoned his father after their falling out, I don’t think he’d let all his work go to waste.”

Teryn couldn’t help but agree. Morkai was nothing if not tenacious. If he’d been able to tether his soul to a crystal upon his death, he could have woven a spell that would deliver information to Darius under certain circumstances. And while he and his father sought separate goals—Morkai wanting to utilize fae magic in the human world, Darius aiming to return to El’Ara and rule there—their means were aligned.

Dread sank Teryn’s gut. It was too much to hope Darius didn’t know about Lela. Syrus’ recent dealings with Norun were proof that he was angling to get closer.

His only consolation was something he recalled from Emylia’s memories. According to Morkai, Darius was physically weak and couldn’t easily leave Syrus. He may be a worldwalker like Cora, but if his magic worked like hers, he couldn’t travel to a place he was unfamiliar with. Lela once been part of El’Ara, but after five hundred years, it couldn’t possibly resemble the place Darius had once lived. Even if it did, there was another condition Morkai had mentioned in Emylia’s memories: Darius was cursed to forget. He hadn’t even been capable of recalling the name of the realm he’d come from.

That wasn’t enough to make Teryn feel at ease.

“I’m sorry,” Emylia said, soundlessly rising to her feet from his trunk. “I shouldn’t make you talk about such dire topics.”

He shook his head. “It’s all right. We need to discuss these things, no matter how dreadful they are. And you will be able to help us. I’m sure of it.”

She smiled, and this time it looked genuine. “I must admit, talking to you has reminded me of my humanity. I’ve gotten too used to being invisible, but now that I know someone can see me, I’ll have to mind my manners. I really shouldn’t have spied on you and Cora. I won’t do it again. Not in… that sort of scenario.”

“I appreciate that.”

“Well, I’ll leave you alone for now.” Her form began to fade, but not before she gave him a mischievous wink. “I promise to give you ample privacy tonight.”

She faded away completely, but her parting words made his stomach tumble as he recalled inviting Cora to return to his room this evening. Though he’d soon see her at the formal audience and at dinner afterward, tonight they’d be alone. Tonight he wouldn’t hold back.

Tonight Teryn would bare his heart to the woman he loved.