Page 69 of The Fate of Eternity

“How did you feel it and know to come in here then?” I ask, intrigued, and he shrugs.

“I kept opening the imaginary door Brody told me to imagine so I could be alert for you,” he offers, avoiding my stare with what looks like a hint of embarrassment, and it destroys my heart in the best way possible.

“Thank you. You didn’t have to do that,” I murmur, leaning into him as he presses another kiss against my skin. This time, it’s at the corner of my mouth.

We sit side by side as he gives me a moment to wake up and try to process everything that’s happened. I have no idea what time it is, how long we’ve been here, or anything else besides the two of us sitting here, but it’s enough. For the first time, I trust in the foundations surrounding me instead of bulldozing everything to regain control.

If Kryll is sitting calm and collected, then I should take that as a sign that there’s no immediate danger to be concerned about.

Time passes and I don’t even care about the pace of it. Fast. Slow. It doesn’t matter. I take the time to focus on my breathing and my thoughts, slowly separating them from the carnage in my head before invoking the imaginary door in my mind. It works enough to calm the simmering in my veins, and I release a breath I didn’t even realize I was holding.

“Better?” Kryll asks, shifting to wrap his arm around my shoulders, and I hum in agreement.

“Much.”

“I know it won’t last forever, but I’m sure it will be a fun exercise for us to all figure out together,” he states, and I stare at him in disbelief.

“That doesn’t sound fun.”

“It doesn’t? I love the idea of the five of us having something special like this. Even if it wasn’t our doing, we should focus on the positive. Otherwise, the darkness will consume us, and there’s enough of that going around already,” he explains, squeezing my arms supportively.

“Oh, I agree on that part. I don’t like change, and this feels huge, no matter how much I try to play it down in my head, but my concern is more with having to handle Cassian and Raiden. Between those two, the fight for control is going to be real.”

He snickers at my statement. “That isverytrue. I feel like we should take bets on who will blow first.”

“That would be mean, wouldn’t it?” I say, amusement lifting the corner of my lips as he shrugs.

“Scared to lose?”

“Me? Never.” A lightness settles on my chest, and it practically feels like I’m floating on a cloud.

“Can I ask you a question?”

Nerves threaten to steal the lightness away from me. If he asks about the light, I don’t know what I can say because that will take some time. “Of course,” I rasp, despite the panic I can feel creeping just beneath my skin.

“Are you ever sad about your ears?” I blink at him. Then I do it again. And again. Startled by his question. To the point where he quickly starts to backtrack when all I do is stare at him. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have asked that. I just?—”

“It’s okay. I just wasn’t expectingthatto be the question. You could have given me five hundred guesses and that still wouldn’t have been one of them,” I admit, swallowing nervously as he whispers another apology under his breath.

“You don’t have to answer,” he adds when I still stare at him, my mind swirling with thoughts, but I shake my head.

“No, I can answer, and I want to, I’m just trying to find the right words,” I offer, and he nods, stroking his thumb over myarm as I think. He doesn’t rush me. He gives me even more time to process my thoughts before I finally clear my throat.

“Fae ears are unique, not just from any other origin, but from each other. They’re a symbol of who you are and where you come from, and I love that. I love itsomuch. You have to watch their mannerisms to detect a shifter, a wolf, a vampire, a mage, or a human. With a fae, it’s right there for everyone to see. To wear with pride. When I was small, I remember asking my father why our ears were pointed, and he said, ‘The fae are blessed with pointed ears to symbolize our love for magic and the possibilities that behold us. But they also allow us the privilege of being able to spot someone of our kind in a crowd and seek safety.’”

“That’s beautiful,” he offers, and I smile despite the sadness causing an ache in my heart.

“I remember running my fingers over them every time I was nervous. That was the first pain I felt when they were taken from me. Running my hands over the scars definitely didn’t feel the same,” I explain, sharing more of my story than I’ve ever spoken aloud before. “My father saw the effect it had on me and taught me how to see the positive in the scars, that now my ears symbolize a survivor, that they show my resilience. They represent the pain I experienced and withstood to rise above it. He confirmed that the trauma traumatized me, never diminishing that fact, but he ensured that I didn’t let it bring me down, explaining that it made me whole in a completely different way than before.”

“Fuck, Addi,” he rasps, his watery eyes wide as he searches mine. “Remind me to pat that man on the back the next time I see him,” he adds, a shaky smile on his lips as he tries to lighten the mood, and it works. It feels freeing to speak about it with someone, to lower my walls and let someone witness my vulnerability.

Maybe Brody was right about talking about my feelings all along.

“Why do you ask?” I rub my lips together, searching his stare as my words hang in the air.

“If you had a choice now, would you project to the world that you’re a fae or a survivor?”

His retort knocks me back a breath as my eyes widen. That’s another profound question, one that takes me a hot minute to process before I can even consider an answer.

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