Page 92 of Ringmaster
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?”
Her eyes dart past me. “Azrael, I’ll always sacrifice myself for you. It’s what I was created to do, but I’ll always come back to you. I promise I’ll always choose to return you.”
I place a finger against her lips. “Don’t say those things. I can’t bear the thought of losing you again. I’ll never forgive myself for the first time—I doubt I could survive a second.”
She strokes her hand down my cheek. “You must forgive yourself. And you must survive. I promise you, Prince of Shadow and Bone, I will always come back to you.” Mercy pulls me in for a kiss. Its softness lingers on my lips as she breaks away. “There, sealed with a kiss, “ she says, reciting the same words I used on her.
“I love you, Mercy.”
“I love you too, Azrael.”
“How are you feeling? Are you well?” I ask her, suddenly remembering everything she’s been through.
She pauses, thinking my question over before answering. “I suppose I feel okay. Normal. Maybe like I have more power than before, and my body feels strange, but otherwise I’m fine.”
More power? Mercy is already filled with power. If anyone was to give her any additional power, she might even be a match for me. What did the Fates say? My equal—could that mean she’ll be just as powerful as I am?I shake my head, sorting my thoughts. “Right. Well, that’s to be expected. I suppose it makes sense for some things to feel different. Technically, you’re shadow-touched now. You’ve walked alongside death, and returned to the mortal—I stop myself—returned to the human world.” I’m not sure how much she knows, and the last thing I want to do is commit an offense that allows the Fates to destroy me.
She smiles. “I think there’s more to it than that.”
“I wish we had the time for me to explain, angel. But I must release my hold on time before the Fates show up to punish me. Are you ready for whatever we’re about to face when I do?” I ask her, willing to risk holding time longer if she needs me to.
“What exactly do you mean?” She asks as I help her stand, pulling her against me. Needing to feel her in my arms after what felt like an eternity of emptiness. Her softness folds against my hard lines and ridges, fitting against me like we were made for one another—because we were. I breathe her in, savoring every part of this moment like it could once again be our last. The Fates are cruel. Destiny is cruel. They would gladly take away what has only just been returned to me. Anger explodes within me at the thought. I kiss her several times—on the shoulder, up her neck, on the cheek, and then finally my lips take hers. WhenI pull away, the ache in my chest rises, answering in response to the loss.
“There was a disturbance right as you were returning. I fear it’s the Ringmaster, come to face me now that I know who he truly is.”
Wide-eyed and serious, Mercy feels along her corset, pulling the daggers I gifted her from their sheaths. “I’m ready.”
