“I’m sorry,” she said. “I just … how do I know where I end and Rose begins? How do I know what’s me and what’s her?”
The corners of Caius’s mouth turned up, ever so slightly. “You’re you, Echo. You always have been and you always will be. Nothing will change that.”
He couldn’t have known how desperately she wanted to believe him, yet he looked so sure of himself, so sure of her that she didn’t have the heart to tell him she didn’t. But because her reality had become a smorgasbord of life-altering events, the problem of sharing head space with Caius’s dead girlfriend wasn’t the only serving of strange on her plate. Time to compartmentalize.
“So,” she said. “What are we going to do now?”
Caius’s hand traveled toward Echo’s, inching closer, giving her time to retract it. She didn’t. His fingers closed around hers. He turned her hand over in his and said, “Damned if I know.”
Her laugh was tired and quiet. She looked around the loft because she needed a minute to digest it all. Ivy and the Ala had retreated to the kitchenette, making tea probably. It was one thing Ivy had inherited from the Ala. Making warm beverages in a crisis. Jasper was still stretched out flat on the floor, with Dorian’s hands holding a bandage to his abdomen.
Echo’s fingers twitched in Caius’s hand, tightening her hold. She glanced at where Dorian had his head bent over Jasper’s. They were so different. Dorian, with his fair skin and his silvery-gray hair. Jasper, all golden brown and a riot of color, ever the peacock. But as Jasper raised Dorian’s hand to his mouth, pressing a gentle kiss onto his fingers, they looked right together.
The sight of them made something ping inside Echo.
“Maybe this is how I do it,” she said.
“Do what?” Caius asked.
“End the war. Bring everyone together.”
Caius’s expression sailed past dubious to land squarely on shocked. “The Avicen and the Drakharin would never unite.”
“Wouldn’t they?” Echo flung out a hand, gesturing at the open expanse of Jasper’s nest. “Look at us. Ivy worked her healing magic on Dorian after that psycho chased us out of Wyvern’s Keep. Dorian’s busy holding Jasper’s guts in.” She shook her head, sighing. “You saw the Oracle’s arms. She had both scales and feathers. Maybe the Avicen and the Drakharin had a common ancestor. They share the mythology about the firebird, don’t they? Maybe it didn’t used to be this way, Caius. The Avicen and the Drakharin were one, once. Maybe they can be again.”
Caius’s smile was sad, but still lovely. Kind of like the rest of him. She was fairly certain that thought did not belong to her. “It’s a beautiful dream, Echo. But that’s all it’ll ever be. I’m too old to believe anything else.”
Once more, the hands around Echo’s heart clenched. “Well, maybe it’s time the dreamers started calling the shots,” she said.
Caius brought their joined hands to his mouth and held them there, brushing his lips against her fingers, and Echo spied the telltale shine of tears in his eyes.
“They won’t like it,” he said, mouthing the words against her skin. “People like Altair. Like Tanith. They’ll fight until there’s no one left standing.”
“But does that mean we don’t try?”
Caius’s voice was soft with wonder. “You know, you sound just like her.”
Like Rose. Echo wasn’t sure how she felt about that. In that moment, he didn’t look like a two-hundred-fifty-year-old almost immortal. He didn’t look like a prince elected to bear the burdens of an entire nation’s hopes and failures. He simply looked like Caius. Serious green eyes, hair so brown it was almost black, the faintest hint of a smile he wore around the edges of his lips when he didn’t remember to frown. Echo wondered if this was the way Rose had seen him, if the amalgamation of these traits was the reason she’d fallen in love with Caius a century ago.
With a small sigh, he lowered her hand and gazed around the room “So. Here we are. A flame-throwing thief, a deposed prince, an apprentice healer, an ex–royal guard, and a career scoundrel taking on a war on two fronts.” The sadness seeped out of Caius’s smile like a puddle drying up in the sun. He laughed, and Echo wanted to bottle the sound and save it forever. “What could possibly go wrong?”
“Honestly?” Echo replied. “Probably everything.”
CHAPTER FIFTY-NINE
“They’ll be looking for you,” the Ala said, watching Echo lay out her few belongings on Jasper’s bed so she could pack. Echo wanted to sit next to her, to lean her weary head on the Ala’s shoulder, as she had so many times before, to let herself be comforted by those strong arms. But that was something a child would have done, and the time for childish things had passed.
“Tanith,” the Ala continued, “Altair, if he survived. Their enemies. Their allies. Anyone with a vested interest in the firebird’s power.”
“I know,” Echo said. She shoved her belongings into her bag with a surprising amount of calm, and tried not to think about the things she was leaving behind: the Nest, the home she could never return to, or Rowan, the boy she couldn’t—wouldn’t—burden with her newfound power. The dagger lay next to the backpack, gleaming prettily against the white of Jasper’s sheets. She would pack that last.
“You can’t stay here.”
“I know,” Echo said.
She looked around the loft, airy and bright at the top of the Strasbourg Cathedral. Sunlight streamed in through the stained-glass windows, painting the white carpet—dirty as it was—a thousand shades of orange, purple, green, and blue. It was so very Jasper. How quickly it had begun to feel like a home, with so many people—Avicen, Drakharin, and human—packed into it.
The others puttered about the loft, gathering the few things they would need on the run. Dorian and Ivy were packing whatever medical supplies they could scrounge up, while Jasper lay on the sofa, sulking. Ivy and the Ala had worked miracles on his wound, but he needed time to heal. Time they didn’t have.
Caius met her gaze from across the room. He smiled at her, eyes soft and warm, and Echo couldn’t not smile back. Dorian called his name, and Caius looked away. There was the faintest echo of a presence inside her head, demanding attention. Rose. Echo closed her eyes and breathed deeply. Rose faded, like the ghost she was.
The Ala smoothed her honey-colored skirt over her thighs. “What will you do?”
“The same thing I’ve always done,” Echo said, swinging her backpack over her shoulder. She held the dagger in her hand, onyx and pearl magpies catching the light. If she angled it just right, they looked like they were flying. “Run when I have to, and fight till the end.”
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