Page 95 of A Fate Everlasting

“No,” I shook my head. “That’s not the kind of person she was. That’s not the person I remember.”

“Arabella,” he said thoughtfully. “The day we grow up is the day we see our parents as they are. Not as we hoped. Your mother was young and blinded by love. She made afool’sbargain. I forged her a necklace that would grant her passage out of Evermore and the ability to live like a Common for as long as she liked.” He shrugged. “I suppose that, after a time, she decided it wasn’t worth it anymore.”

The pieces didn’t fit. Maybe I just didn’t want them to. The mother I’d known couldn’t be the same person that bartered me away. But she had wanted him, my father. She thought she could cut her past clean and start over. She never looked back, and never once thought of me. I wouldnevermake a choice like that.

“If I’m the only living daughter of a Fallen Angel, then what does that make me?” I whispered, barely able to form the words. I didn’t want to ask. I didn’t want to know, but the words clawed their way out anyway.

Then, with a softness that almost mimicked a concession, hesaid, “It makes you afracture. An impossibility. A soul that belongs to neither side.” His head tilted in fascination. “Every Luminari’s soul is tied to light or darkness. Fate stitches those ties before you draw your first breath. But yours is tethered to both.”

“But the scores. The rankings.” I stuttered over my words. “Thepointof Evermore is that every Luminari has the potential to choose their path.”

“The illusion of choice,” he said with a shrug. “Most souls are already leaning toward light or dark long before they arrive. The scores only reflect what’s already woven by fate. You, Arabella, are the only one who truly chooses. And choice?—”

“Is power,” I said before he could. “That’s why you need me to Fall.”

“Now you’re understanding.” The High King let out a quiet laugh, the tone of it reminding me of Dante. “If a soul like yours, born of both light and dark,choosesthe darkness, it tips the balance just enough. The dark prevails, and the light weakens. It grants me dominion.”

“Dominion.” I paused. “How?”

“The cards.” The High King replied, the tip of his staff igniting at the mention of them. “If you choose to Fall, the balance of power tips away from the Archangels. They will be too weak to fight the binding of the deck.”

Too weak to fight the binding.So, this was his plan. He’d given up trying to find a stronger spell and had resorted to weakening the Archangels instead. There was just one more thing I didn’t understand.

“But thereisno choice. You’ve already won. Verrine manipulated the scores. Mine already sits in the negatives, the Rift will propel me toward Elsewhere anyway. Ihaveno choice in this.”

“You could choose not to Fall.” His fingers idly traced the head of his staff. “You could choose to disappear instead.”

I shuddered. “That’s not much of a choice.”

“Admittedly not,” The High King nodded. “But the choice to remove the Lumen is also yours.”

I ran a hand across my collarbone. “What?”

“While you wear it, the Rift can’t mark you,” he said. “The Lumen binds a soul to the Common World by will. No blade, no spell, not evenIcan break it. Only a willing hand can remove it.”

I felt a spark jolt through me. “And why do you think I would do that?”

The hunger in his tone told me he had been waiting too long for this moment. “The value of your life was traded away before your birth. This is your chance to take your power back.”

“And if I don’t?”

“Then someone else, maybe someone you love, pays your price. Luckily, Evermore overflows with souls.” He tapped his staff and the guards closed in. “Tomorrow, you Fall.”

This was never a choice, not really. But one thing was now clear. Theyneededme, which meant maybe I held more cards than I thought.

46

The attendants came to dress me for my funeral. A brush dragged through my hair. Fingers laced the strands, weaving intricately.My limbs hung like they were filled with iron, my body ragdoll-limp as they tugged the gown over my head. They couldn’t force the Lumen off me. That was the catch. I had to give it up myself.

I stared at my own reflection in the mirror. The black gown swallowed me whole, cascading over my frame like liquid shadow. The gems on the skirt glittered like fallen stars, the fabric of the bodice stitched like night sky before a storm.

A woman, one of the attendants, smiled at me in the reflection. “You look beautiful,” she said, curling one of the strands that framed my face with her finger.

“Is this normal? I always thought we would be in uniform for the Rift.”

“Yes,” she replied without hesitation. “Everyone will be dressed like this.”

She was lying. I could feel it like a splinter beneath the skin. The king wanted to enjoy the show, to have his pawn wear a pretty dress as she Fell. The brush dragged through my haironce more, smoothing every last imperfection. My hands drifted to my neck, absently touching the pendant. I couldn’t part with it now, not yet. Even though it reminded me of my mother, the person who had betrayed me worst of all.

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