Page 76 of The Frost Witch (The Covenants of Velora #1)

We did not walk. We fell.

It felt like a blow to the stomach, all of the air suddenly ripped from my chest, my limbs too light and then suddenly much, much too heavy as we crashed to the ground.

Garrick’s hand was immediately on my back, trying to steady me. But it was too late for that. I was already on my knees, my stomach doing violent somersaults as I gulped down air. Beside me, I saw the toes of Alize’s boots. She’d landed on her feet, of course.

“Isanara?”

“I have wings,” she huffed. How dare I ask such an inane question.

I splayed my hand across her back and used it to push myself back to my feet. My first impression was of overwhelming light. Born in the year of the curse, I’d never seen such brightness.

We stood at the threshold of a balcony where it adjoined a cavernous room.

The entire structure was built out of a pale golden stone that reflected the light flooding from behind us and almost glowed.

Massive pillars rose on either side of the balcony, framing the luxurious suite.

Expansive cream and gold rugs covered the stone floors, connecting arched doorways with geometric carved patterns cut out from stone itself.

There was an elegantly appointed bed, a table and chairs, and several bookshelves.

They all looked like something out of a dream, so bright and beautiful they could not possibly be of this world.

Because they weren’t, I realized.

“Where are we?” I whispered, even though we were alone.

“Balar Shan,” Garrick said. He was not holding my hand anymore.

My mouth fell open as he reached over his shoulder, freeing the bow and nocking an arrow. But before I could ask what had caused him to draw the weapon he’d avoided even mentioning for the entire time I’d known him, a figure appeared in one of the arched doorways.

Even as a child, Alize was instantly recognizable.

Her hair brushed her shoulders. Two braids started at the center of her forehead before hanging down to frame her face and expose her pointed ears.

Her skin was the same luminous gold. But it was the way she moved that alerted me to the likeness.

There was confidence and grace in every step, in the tilt of her head as she glanced back over her shoulder, checking for something.

At my side, the present-day Alize sucked in a breath.

She watched, her eyes unreadable as the younger version of herself crossed to the center of the room, where a cradle carved of pale wood rocked gently back and forth.

My stomach clenched.

Garrick slowly lowered his weapon, arrow still conspicuously ready, but at his side instead of pointed at the young fae female.

Young Alize reached the cradle. She stood beside it, gazing down at what I presumed to be a sleeping infant. She waved her hand behind her, and one of the pillows from the bed floated to her on a phantom wind. Her magic had already been strong, even from a young age.

She clenched the pillow in her hands, tension stiffening her body.

Dark God, no.

She leaned over the cradle and shoved the pillow down. The infant wailed, but the sound was muffled by the pillow. I knew it was a memory, I knew it had already happened. But I still stumbled forward, Isanara between my legs. Garrick grabbed my arm, jerking me back.

I opened my mouth to protest, but before I could, young Alize flew backward through the air, crashing into the pale stone wall. My head whipped side to side, looking for who had intervened. But it was just the younger fae female, the infant, and us four spectators.

Before the young Alize could stand up, a bright light flashed, encompassing all my senses.

Then, just as suddenly, it receded, and sensations flooded back in. The light shone over my shoulders, gilding the golden stone. The wooden cradle swayed gently. Young Alize appeared in the arched doorway.

The memory played out exactly as it had the first time. The only difference was that I knew what to expect, and when young Alize flew backward, I thought I saw tendrils of curling white smoke above the cradle. But by the time I blinked, they were gone.

I expected the flash of light. For a second, all of my senses were deprived. It felt something like relief, except that it was too brief, and once again, we were back in the nursery in Balar Shan while young Alize attempted to kill her younger sibling.

I’d heard her crime at the Justice Gate. I now knew which one belonged to Garrick. But this was not the time. If this was Alize’s worst memory… which one of mine would the Memory Gate select for me to relive? And how many times?

When young Alize appeared in the archway again, the adult Alize at my side tensed.

I’d seen her composure falter once, but this was far beyond that. The cool, beautiful mask was completely shattered, leaving behind anger and rage that transformed her lovely face into something terrifying.

“Garrick,” I said softly, trying to draw his attention.

But he was already watching present-day Alize. His eyes were bright with sympathy, but he did not offer her any comment or solace.

Young Alize crossed to the cradle. But before she could summon the pillow, present-day Alize intervened. She shoved her younger self aside. The young female’s body did not even hit the carpeted floor. As soon as the real Alize shoved her away, the younger version evaporated.

Alize stood over the cradle. A single tear tracked down her face. Her hand twitched, and for one horrible moment, I thought she was about to summon the pillow herself and finish the job her younger self had failed to complete.

Instead, she reached down into the cradle and lifted the infant out.

His hair was much darker than hers, nearly black, but I could see that his golden skin matched hers perfectly.

Just as suddenly as the other Alize had disappeared, the baby in her arms morphed, and in its place stood a fully grown fae male.

There was the same dark hair, the golden skin, but the face was fully formed into the lines of adulthood.

Alize leaned into him, resting her head against his shoulder.

He did not reach for her, but nor did he push her away. He looked over her shoulder, beyond her and beyond us, not seeing us at all. He wasn’t real. I knew that. But the feeling was still unnerving. His eyes were a deep, familiar blue-green, thick with intensity that?—

The swirling black mist ripped me away before I could finish the thought.