A tear escaped the corner of her eye, barely visible in the darkness as it trickled down one cheek.
“These past weeks have been a dream, but they’ve also been a nightmare.” I inhaled a sharp breath, then another, but it didn’t feel as though any air was reaching my lungs. “A dream, because I never imagined that you’d ever see me as more than a friend. That you’d…”
“Love you?” she whispered. “Because I do. I always have. I always will.”
I nodded once, because anything more would have broken me.
“But also a nightmare?”
I swallowed hard. “Because it isn’t enough.”
“Marc, I–”
I pressed a finger gently to her lips, knowing that I’d said it wrong. That she’d misunderstood. “Stolen moments aren’t enough. I’m tired of sneaking around when what’s between us is no secret to anyone. I want to go to bed with you every night and wake up in the morning with you by my side. To build a life with you without fear. To raise our…” The sentiment strangled in my throat. “I don’t want anything to stand between us anymore.”
Reaching into my pocket, I extracted the vial that I’d kept on my person since the moment I’d stolen it from the well in the glass gardens. The contents glowed faintly in the darkness, a magic that bound worlds, and which could bind hearts.
Pénélope stared at the élixir, and then jerked away with such violence that she almost fell off the platform, knocking away my hand as I tried to steady her. “No!”
Stumbling down, she knelt next to the stream of water, face in her hands. “You’re doing this because you think sacrificing yourself is the only way to save my life. But what you don’t understand is that I’d rather die a thousand deaths than drag you down with me.”
My feet felt fixed to the platform. “That’s not true.” And it wasn’t. At least, not entirely.
“Isn’t it?” Her features scrunched up as though she were in pain. “My grasp on life has always been a fragile thing, but now my fate is certain. If you’re bonded to me, your life will be equally in jeopardy. And even if you manage to survive my death, this magic only works once. I won’t risk your life and steal your chance to build one with someone else. I want you to have a family. To be happy.”
“I want that, too,” I said. “But I want it with you.”
“We both know that’s not possible.”
Whatever cowardice had been binding my feet in place released, and I dropped off the platform to kneel next to her. “It is possible, Pénélope. The only thing that’s stopping us is everyone else, but we can take that power away from them if we want to.”
“And if I don’t want to?”
Tears were flooding down her cheeks, her shoulders shaking, but I was careful not to touch her. Not to push her. All her life she’d been forced this way and that, and I refused to do the same. “I won’t make you do anything, Pénélope. But if you don’t want this, don’t want me, I want to hear you say it. I deserve to know that it’s you making the choice, not your father. Or the King. Or anyone else.”
The wind whistled through the cavern, and I caught the faintest glimpse of moonlight. We were running out of time, and I didn’t think the Duke would allow Pénélope to survive until the next full moon. “Pénélope?”
“This is cruel,” she whispered. “You know I want to be with you more than anything. And if the cost was mine alone to bear, I’d shoulder it in a heartbeat.” Her sob echoed through the cavern. “But you are the one who’d bear it, along with all of those who are relying on you to save them. And how selfish would I be to want that?”
“Then be selfish.” I sounded angry, but it was desperation. I couldn’t lose her like this. I refused to. “Your life has been dictated by your father, by your affliction, by circumstance. When have you ever done something meaningful because it was what you wanted?”
“I shouldn’t want it.”
The anguish in her voice was like a knife to my gut. “But you do,” I said. “I know the risks. I know there is every chance that this pregnancy will kill me along with you. But I’d rather live a short life bonded to you than an eternity without knowing what it was like, because all it would be is an eternity of regret.”
Her fingers crept toward mine, latching onto the vial that held our salvation. Our damnation. And I was afraid to let her take it lest she shatter it against the stone, leaving all our wants and dreams scattered in pieces among the broken glass. I was afraid.
But I also refused to be a coward, so I let her take it.
Sitting on her heels, she pulled out the stopper, letting it drop from her fingers and roll away into the darkness.
My heart slowed to a crawling thump, thump as I held my breath.
“To selflessness,” she said, then drained half the contents in one gulp.
Excitement and terror rolled through my veins, but I took the vial back from her. “To selfishness.” Then I swallowed the rest, the liquid sticky and sweet on my tongue, burning its way into my stomach.
The world trembled and blurred as the magic stole into my veins, and I pulled Pénélope into my arms, lifting her onto the platform right as the edge of the moon crept across the opening, spilling its light into the cavern. The mirrors caught its brilliance, and it seemed we were not buried beneath curse and rock, but kneeling in a field surrounded by sky and stars.
Pénélope’s fingers interlaced with mine, and I kissed her, her lips tasting like salt and dreams and desire. Everything I wanted. Everything I was willing to die for.
Then she was there. In my mind. In my heart. I gazed into her eyes, knowing for the first time with certainty that she loved what she saw. That she would not change me. And I wouldn’t change her. What souls we fey creatures had were now bound by the greatest magic known in this world and the next. It was the greatest joy I’d ever known, something that nothing – nothing – would ever make me regret. But it was also the greatest heartbreak.
Because I knew it wouldn’t last.
Chapter Nineteen
Pénélope