Page 156 of Kingdoms of Night

He leaned closer, squinting at the page. The marks were gibberish to him, although there were pictures of orbs and little markings that he suspected meant something important.

Idalno’s expression offered little insight into the contents. For a moment, his stomach clenched. It could contain accounts of all his worst acts, the darkest secrets that haunted him even now. A heaviness pressed in upon him. Could anyone love him if they knew the truth?

She turned the page. Her eyebrows lifted. “What in the plagues…?”

Children’s laughter broke the silence. He turned, searching for the source.

Idalno pointed to one of the desks. “There!”

She ran to it, the book in hand. Two shining orbs sat on gold pedestals. Inside, small images played.

“Lalko?” Idalno clapped her hand over her mouth and dropped the book.

His gaze fell at once to the second. Already he recognized Annette, so small but already so much bigger than she’d been when he’d first held her. The same ocean-blue eyes and hair as yellow as straw after the harvest, just like when she’d been a baby, was now so much longer and thicker, and tied back with a threadbare ribbon. She’d grown so fast.Mon chou.

His heart clenched and every protective instinct tightened. There she was, playing with her pirate swashbuckler doll at the edge of a river, near someone doing laundry—Anouk. The bruise on her knee from the last time she’d fallen had dulled to a faint yellow-purple smudge. And she looked happy in that afternoon sunshine.

Could it be real, or was this some sort of deception, magic of some kind?

“Idalno,” he whispered, and she tore herself away from the other orb. “Here, please—what do you see her holding?”

Her eyebrows knitted together. “It’s a doll, with a red sash, a black eye patch…”

A knot formed in his throat. She saw the same thing he did.

“Thank you,” he whispered, his voice breaking. Annette was safe at home, in Guillory, in Emaurria, with Anouk, as if she’d never left. Maybe she hadn’t.

He was here, in another realm, another world, with no certainty he could ever return. He’d watched over her before she’d even been born, when she’d kicked eagerly to meet the world, no bigger than a little head of cabbage. He’d held her, bathed her, changed her, taken care of her. Made silly faces and sung lullabies. Checked for monsters and chased away nightmares. Played pretend and captured fireflies. His eyes welled with tears. She’d been and was his world. If this was the last time he saw her, at least he knew she was safe, happy, and with her mother. Whatever life held for her, he hoped it would be good. Better than it had been for him and his sisters.

Idalno crouched in front of the orb on the other side of the desk, her hands on her knees. Tears streamed down her cheeks.

He crossed over to her and wiped the tears away.

She managed a little laugh and then swept her hands beneath her eyes. “I hate crying in front of people.”

The sight of those tears tore at his heart. And that she would be afraid to be vulnerable in front of him? He hadn’t earned that right, but almost more than anything, he wanted it.

“You don’t have to be ashamed to cry in front of me...” He’d almost called herma vigneagain but stopped himself. Instead he pulled the handkerchief from the pocket of this borrowed suit. “Here.”

She dabbed at the rest of the moisture and tried to smile. “Thank you.” She let out a long sigh and then gestured toward the orb. “That’s Lalko. My little coya bird. She’s found some iguanas, and she’s going to convince her momma that she can keep them all and be a good momma to them. Or a physician, if she’s trying to convince her that she’s doing it to become a better Unato.” Sadness tinged her voice.

“Oh?” He frowned.

She shook her head, her smile growing a little crooked and trembling. “You just wait. She is going to grow up to be someone important. And the good thing is that her momma sees it, too. Her aunties and uncles as well. So they won’t push her aside or tell her to just make tea. They’ll make sure she gets everything she needs to be the best she can be.” She cleared her throat and then pulled away. Sniffing, she continued. “I don’t know how he’s doing this, but it looks real enough. She’s at our cousin’s seventh birthday party. That was yesterday. Or would have been if I was still there. I don’t know how he would have known that. So… as best I can tell, the girls were never here. The book says the same. Their voices were an illusion. Specifically tailored to each of us. That way we would follow. All of this...”

“It was about us.” He stood. “The whole thing. Fated mates, a perfect match. I don’t know how that’s possible.”

How could anyone sort that out? Make it all make sense? There were so many people out there. Even with magic to help him, how could Puck have known? And why would he have saddled Idalno with him?

She straightened, her shoulders stiffening.

He understood her surprise. It was shocking. All of it.

Everything had been set up. Puck had known they were coming. And he had prepared everything so they could see, laid it all out as plainly as if he’d been there to talk to him. To think that anyone could know them so well. He shuddered.

What was she reading? She was staring so intently at the page, sniffing from time to time and wiping away the occasional tear. She hadn’t turned the page for a bit.

He needed to tell her—tell her that he didn’t want to be alone any longer. His mouth went dry at the thought, and his stomach churned. How did he start it?

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