Page 54 of Ringmaster (The Kingdom of Shadow & Bone #1)

Azrael

The mortal realm bursts, spitting me out in front of the smaller tent where we host specialty shows.

It was the first big top—a truly remarkable tent.

I can’t remember why we stopped using it.

I search for a memory, any familiar tug pulling at my magic, finding myself compelled to stop and admire it despite the urgency coiling in my muscles, begging me to sprint inside.

No matter how hard I try, my memories remain elusive.

Looking up from my thoughts, I marvel at the sun-faded stripes and the flaps of the rolled-up opening, waiting to envelope me.

Inside, a torturous sight I do not wish to see awaits me.

I hesitate, delaying the inevitable, vehemently refusing to cast my eyes on her lifeless body.

She might be endless now, but that doesn’t mean Destiny won’t take its time returning her.

Power crackles through my fingertips, shadows rising and swirling at my feet.

I won’t tolerate her being taken from me again.

I’ll bring the world to its end, declaring war against anyone who dares to take her from me again.

My anger builds, forcing magic to spill out and my shadows to escape the hold I had over them.

Enough of this cowardly behavior, I decide, stomping all the way to the entrance of its wide mouth.

I want my mate back. If I have to take her lifeless body with me to the underworld and retrieve her soul myself, I will.

My magic pulls back into itself, giving me the strength to walk past the entrance.

Once inside, I’m surprised to find Mercy’s family gathered with Zora, Sylis, Gisselle, and a few of the others.

My knees threaten to buckle at the sight of them, but I don’t stop to acknowledge them, slipping through the shadows to remain collected.

I must not appear weak. Any sign of weakness might be reported back and used against me.

Instead, my face stays stoic and devoid of emotion, my mask worn bravely, shadows lapping at my heels.

As I approach, the circus performers step back, providing me space and privacy without abandoning their guard over her. The scent of protective spells and magic floods the air as I near where she rests on a bed of marigolds.

Mercy’s mother and cousin, Miriam, both step back to give me space. But Tavien glares at me, refusing to allow me to forget, forcing me to face this agony as consequences for my actions. He blames me—they all do.

This wasn’t supposed to happen to her. Our story was only just beginning.

There’s so much happiness I wanted for us.

All I’ve ever strived to do is bring her peace.

I stole her away from a terrible life only to replace her with one far more dangerous.

And for what? My own selfish need. I loathe myself.

But I would do it again if forced to make the choice.

I’ve proven I’m worthy of keeping her. A deal’s a deal, and I won’t wait long for what’s mine to be returned.

Maybe once I explain things, they’ll understand. Or I could always wipe their memories. It’s not the worst idea I’ve ever had. But first, I need to say my goodbyes.

My shadows reach for Mercy, shooting out to caress her. I pull them back, wanting to touch her before they do. They whimper at my command, restraining themselves from rushing to embrace her again.

The pyre, filled with her lingering magic, glows around the marigolds of different shades— orange, golden yellow, and rusty red.

It’s the golden flower I scoop up though to place on her chest, only to find she’s already clasping one.

A second one lies next to her, with a hand-scrawled note: I’m sorry.

It takes all my strength not to drop to my knees and rip my soul from my chest, to end my suffering once and for all. But I made a deal with the Fates and Destiny. One day, she’ll come back to me; the agreement is binding. I’ll wait for her, no matter what.

A few moments later, feeling too far from her, I end up kneeling beside her despite myself. I spin the flower between my fingers a few times before weaving it in her hair, the way I love seeing it tucked into her braided crown.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t stop you, my love. I only wish I’d told you how much I love you before we parted ways today.” I clear my throat. “Please, Mate, come back to me.” My pleas are a soft whisper, meant only for her soul.

Magic builds around us, leaking out of me uncontrolled.

My shadows slide around her protectively, billowing into a thick, swarming mass at my feet.

I wave my hand, and an illusion slides into place, convincing the others in the tent I’m merely by her side.

An invisible barrier forms around us, keeping us undisturbed.

I lay my hand on top of hers. It’s still faintly warm. Despair threatens to take hold of me as I choke back emotions. The shadows darken, reflecting my mood. I can still smell her sunshine and sea, mixed with something floral. Her strawberry blonde hair glows like a halo. My angel. My mate.

I can’t stand to see her like this. I resolve to suffer alone—on the rooftop, maybe, or perhaps flying over the sea, where the crashing waves will swallow the roars of my sorrow.

As I lean down to kiss her lips, a singular tear rolls down my cheek.

But I don’t stop it. I press my lips to hers, then sit back on my heels, still kneeling at her side, and think of a thousand ways to say goodbye.

My eyes sweep over her peaceful face, memorizing every detail.

When I finally blink, it’s long and slow.

In my mind, with my eyes closed, I’m able to replay our final moments together.

It’s hard not to stay here for too long.

When I finally open them, my chest fills with nothing but regret over everything I didn’t say to her—the opportunities I missed to kiss her shoulder or run my fingers through her hair.

I allow the words I failed to say to sink in and eat away at me until nothing but rock-hard grief fills my soul.

Stealing a deep breath and searching for the strength to leave, I exhale, and a second wave of emotions hits.

“The agreement was binding. Give her back,” I mutter, teeth clenched, fangs elongating as anger bubbles to the surface.

“Please, Mercy, find your way back to me,” I whisper, dropping my voice in defeat and pulling my glamour back into place.

Her eyelashes flutter.

I blink, rubbing my eyes, watching again for another sign of movement.

Her lip twitches.

“Mercy.” My voice is strained.

Her fingers jerk. Relief floods through me.

“Open your eyes and look at me, my love. I’m not a monster. You’re safe,” I command as gently as possible.

Mercy stirs. Her chest expands, filling with air. Slowly it begins moving up and down. The color returns to her skin, and grief gives way to excitement.

“My love. Come back to me. You’re mine, and I’m yours.”

She opens her eyes delicately, as if waiting for something to appear, but there’s only the two of us.

Her lips and their perfectly plump curves, and her eyes that sparkle despite the pain she carries.

Except I no longer feel it—I can no longer sense the scars she hides.

There’s something different. She has returned, but she changed.

The scent of ancient magic is still fresh on her soul as I reach out the misty tendrils of my shadows to stroke her face.

Mercy smiles up at me, reaching for my face to cradle in her hand.

“I know she,” she whispered, guiding my lips closer.

“And what’s that?” I ask, my voice low and sultry.

“You’re mine. I traded for you,” she answers, lifting her arms to examine them.

“What did you trade, Mercy?” Concern rushes over me. Did she make a binding deal?

“I traded the option to start over without you, because not being with you hurts more than anything else I’ve been forced to endure.

“You’re too perfect,” I confess, brushing my lips against hers hastily.

And then our worlds collide. My lips are on hers like burning hot irons branding them for myself.

One hand weaves into her hair, pulling her into a deeper kiss.

My other lands on her waist drawing her into my tight embrace, every inch of our bodies touching.

Her skin is on fire as she allows me to devour her mouth.

Thudding echoes through my ears as her heart races, and then I stop, pulling away abruptly.

It beats differently now that she’s endless.

I look down at her—heartbroken. I did this to her.

Screams from the other side of the tent rip my gaze away. Something’s wrong—there’s a disturbance—but my shadows have already moved into place, shielding us. I throw open my arms in desperation, leaving Mercy lying on the pyre, dazed and confused.

Time sputters and jolts, then stops inside the tent.

It sucks away at my strength, forcing my complete focus in order to hold it.

It’s much harder to manipulate than I realized.

The power Mercy must possess in order to have held the entire town is far greater than I imagined.

It’s taking nearly all my strength and focus to hold only the tent suspended in time.

I think about what the Fates and Destiny had to say, unraveling the clues to my past, the webs of shadow magic falling away slowly to make more sense of it all.

From what they’ve alluded to, I should be strong enough to hold all of time effortlessly with the snap of my fingers. This shouldn’t be a struggle—but it is. What if I simply need to believe in order to access more of my power? I set my shoulders and focus.

I envision time stopping, obeying me exactly the way it should when commanded, and I snap my fingers. All of time slows to a halt, suspended in the moment with only Mercy and me, alone for as long as we need.

She tries to sit up, but I push her down with a grunt. “What were you thinking, sacrificing yourself for me?”