by Miles, Amy
I turn and walk toward him, showing no sign of pain as the glass slices into my feet. “If I stopped time, does that mean I can reverse it as well?”
Kyan blows out a breath, shrugging. “I honestly don’t know. It would appear at the moment that you can do anything you want.”
I glance down at Bastien. I will save you.
“Hold on tight,” I whisper aloud.
“To what?” Eamon says, but I ignore him.
Closing my eyes, I wrap my powers about me, feeling them cocoon me, fluid and deadly. This time, the darkness is different. There is a light, vivid in its intensity. I open my eyes and realize I can still see it.
I gasp, stretching out my hand. Like specs of dust floating in the wind, my hand passes through the bronze-colored particles. They feel gritty against my fingers, and I laugh.
“What’s going on?” Kyan asks.
“It really is like sand.” I grin as I turn to look at Kyan. “Time. I can see time.”
The line fluctuates, weaving among itself like a curtain being held together by an infinite darkness, illuminating each tiny grain. Kyan moves forward and I gasp as he steps right through the curtain. I realize by the way his brow furrows that he is confused. “You can’t see it, can you?”
“No, but that doesn’t mean it’s not real. Try pushing back on it and see what happens, but for goodness sakes, be careful, Illyria. You have no idea what you’re doing. One wrong move and you could kill us all.”
I bite on my lip and refocus. I stretch out my hands, taking a step forward until I can feel the glistening particles and gently push back. The curtain recedes ever so slightly.
“Oh my gosh. She’s doing it!” Eamon cries a moment later. “Keep going!”
I take another step and push again, this time with a bit more pressure. All around me things begin to shift, slowly at first, but there is definite movement. I can see a ghost of Eamon and Kyan as they burst through the door. I watch the crimson glass shard fly back into my hand, watch as my muscles uncoil and the line across Aloysius’s neck diminishes until it is completely gone.
Eamon and Kyan turn in amazement as the blood rises from Aloysius’s clothes, watching as the glass knits back together in its frame.
I grit my teeth and close my eyes, feeling my arms begin to quiver with effort. Time may be reversing, but it is going much too slowly. I push with all of my might, feeling sweat cling to my brow as my knees begin to feel weak. “I’m losing it!”
“Just a little more,” Kyan says, rushing to Bastien’s side. “I only need you to get to him to the moment his heart last beat to save him. If you can give me that, I think I can save him.”
I nod and a scream rises from deep within me as I push, leaning into the rippling curtain. It feels cold to the touch, like the burn of ice. My hands are numb, my legs muscles screaming in agony as I brace myself for another push.
“Tell me when, Kyan. I don’t know how much longer I can hold this.”
“I only need a few more seconds…” he says in a distant voice.
A great rumbling roar fills my ears, drowning out my screams, like standing at the base of a giant waterfall. I can feel Eamon’s presence beside me, but I can’t hear or see him. I am lost to the temporal abyss.
Just as I feel my knees buckle, I feel strong arms wrap about my waist. “I’ve got you,” Eamon shouts. He leans over my back, pushing for me. “Just keep your hands out. I’ll do the rest.”
“You’ll have to time this perfectly.” I grunt at Kyan. “I have to release you from my shield so you can be in sync with Bastien. You’ll be trapped in time for a second, and then I will conceal you again.”
“If you lose control, he won’t make it,” Kyan warns.
Colors burst before my eyes as I nod, feeling Eamon’s arms tighten about my waist as he pushes forward. “Illyria, now!”
It all happens in the blink of an eye. Amazing when you think about it, considering I have time within my grasp. I draw the shield back just as Kyan’s glowing hands press down upon Bastien’s chest. A second later, I wrap the shield around both of them.
“I’ve got him, Illyria. You can let go now,” Kyan calls to me.
My arms shake so badly that my teeth are chattering. Eamon tugs on me. “Illyria, let go. It’s time.”
“I… I can’t!” Terror rises up in me as I begin to feel the gravitational pull of a vortex before me, unseen but very real. “Kyan, help!” Eamon roars beside me.
“I can’t. I’ll lose Bastien if I let go!”
I can feel myself being drawn forward, out of Eamon’s arms. He grabs at my waist, fighting to lock his arms in place to anchor me down. “I can’t lose you,” he cries. “I’m sorry!”
Blinding pain rips through my head and I cry out as we’re thrown backward. Eamon grunts as I land atop him, rolling end over end. My head strikes the far wall and darkness closes in on me.
“Illyria? Kyan, she’s hurt!”
His face swims before my eyes in the fading iridescent glow. The curtain billows and crests behind him and then vanishes from sight. I groan and close my eyes, praying I held on long enough. My head lolls to the side as a cool void envelops me.
Twenty-Five
A blanket of warmth covers my body, calling me forth from the darkness. I don’t want to go back. I’m at peace here. There’s no pain. No sorrow or misery. Only infinite serenity.
A voice calls to me. Illyria.
I become aware of my eyelids and attempt to open them. They slowly flutter, and as my vision begins to clear, I see a man kneeling over me. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” I grunt, raising a hand to touch the bump rising on the back of my head. I grimace and lower my hand. “Never better. What happened?”
Kyan reaches down and presses his hands to my head and a blissful warmth steals away the pain drilling through my eye. “What happened?”
“You passed out… for nearly an hour. I wasn’t sure I’d be able to wake you. You seemed lost somewhere else.”
“I was,” I say, remembering the void. Time… I was lost in time, I think silently.
“I worked on you for quite a while. Apart from your head, you had nothing physically wrong with you. I was worried you sapped your powers again.” He places a hand beneath my head and slowly eases me to a sitting position. I raise my knees and hang my head, willing the room to stop spinning.
“How do you feel now?” His gaze sweeps across my face.
“Fuzzy. I…” I scrunch up my nose as I try to remember what happened. “I don’t really remember much.”
He nods, as if he expected this. “When you lost control, your shield slipped. Somehow you managed to conceal us, but you were left unprotected.” He fixes me with a grim stare. “I won’t pretend to understand how you controlled time. Your powers are stronger than I even imagined, so I can’t predict what effect this may have on you.”
“I’ll be fine. Just a little woozy is all.”
“Too woozy to see a friend?” I look up at him, confused. As I turn to look where he points, I gasp. Eamon kneels beside Bastien, his hand pressed against the rise and fall of his chest.
“Oh!” I crawl to his side, my hands trembling as I reach for him, but Eamon pulls me back.
“He’s sleeping now. We shouldn’t wake him.” Eamon’s voice is low and soft, but I can hear the hesitation in it.
“But he’ll be fine now, right?” I turn to look back up at Kyan. He smiles and nods. “Thank you.”
He kneels down beside me, placing his hand upon my shoulder. “I didn’t think it was possible.” I tilt my head to the side, confused. “You changed fate.” He looks past me to Bastien. “Maybe it is possible to write our own destinies.”
With a pat on my arm, he rises and slips silently from the room, leaving Eamon and me alone with Bastien.
“He’s right, you know?” Eamon whispers beside me. “You changed everything.”
I nod, shifting my hand to grip his. “And I nearly lost everything in the
process.”
“But we won.” He turns to look at me with a hint of a smile, pained but no less a smile. “You’re the queen now.”
“But…” I look around me in confusion. I see Aloysius’s body slumped against the wall. “Why isn’t he alive? I turned back time.”
Eamon nods. “You did, but you didn’t protect him when you released it. Everything sort of snapped back into place. We were saved only because you protected us. Bastien too.” He glances down and pulls his hand back from his brother’s chest.
“So I’m… I’m the queen?”
Eamon smiles. “Seems that way. A newly widowed queen to be exact.”
Laughter bubbles up in my throat. Once I start, I can’t seem to stop. A year of pain, misery, and fear could’ve been avoided if I had only seen this outcome. My breath catches. “I understand now.”
I grip Eamon’s hand, grinning like a fool. “I know why we couldn’t see past this room. It’s because I altered time. The path we saw no longer exists. We are forever slightly off schedule.”
He nods, running his thumb across the back of my hand. “I thought that too.”
“Do you know what this means?” I hold my breath. “It means they were wrong. The prophets don’t know everything. We can change our fate.”
Eamon lowers his gaze. “Yeah, I thought about that too.”
My happiness wanes as I see the droop of his shoulders. “What? What’s wrong?”
He sighs and pushes up to his feet. He casts a glance back at Bastien before he looks at me. “Now you’re free to love him. There’s nothing binding you to me anymore.”
“That’s not true.” I scramble to my feet, desperate to reassure him. “I’m still bound to you. I can feel it.”
He nods. “Yeah, but it’s not as strong as what you have with him.”
I bite my lip as tears well up in my eyes. I reach for him, but he steps away. “It’s okay. You should be here when he wakes up.”
My heart breaks as he turns and leaves, closing the door silently behind him. I sink to my knees, wrapping my arms about myself as I cry. It starts as a whimper before rising into shoulder-shaking sobs. Strong arms wrap around me and I sink back into Bastien’s embrace, somehow knowing he would be there exactly when I needed him the most.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers in my ear. “I heard everything.”
“I don’t… I don’t know what to do.” My voice cracks as I cling to him, feeling shattered and irrevocably broken.
“I know.” And I know he does.
News of Aloysius’s death spreads through Calahorra like wildfire. Torches light the streets. Music and dancing can be heard all the way into the palace. The gates are open wide, allowing all people to enter as they please.
Standing on a large, sweeping balcony, peering down at the joy in the streets, I smile. Aminah squeezes my hand as she clasps hands with Toren on her other side. Kyan and Zahra embrace on my other side, silent and strong. Eamon stands beside Toren and Bastien beside Kyan, polar opposites to the very end.
The crown sitting upon my head is heavy, weighted with the hopes and dreams of an entire race. Kyan said I was born to lead. I’m not so sure I believe him, but I’ll do my best to make him proud.
I know somewhere out there, my parents are waiting for me. A tiny smile crosses my lips at the thought of getting to know them. To know all of our lost parents.
I spot Carleon on the yard below, waving obnoxiously at me, his arm slung over Alesta’s shoulders. I frown, glancing at Kyan. “He sure moves quick. What about Anwen?”
Kyan smiles. “I suppose she never thought to tell you. Alesta is Carleon’s sister.”
“Oh!” Somehow I know I should’ve sensed that connection from the first moment I met her. I wave back and then shoo them away to join in with the party.
“So what now?” I ask, sweeping my gaze over Calahorra, newly dubbed the City of the Queen.
“Now”—Kyan reaches over and grips my hand—“you lead.”
I will do my duty to bring peace and harmony to my people. I will work relentlessly to help our two races work side by side to bring healing to our lands, to stop the earth’s destruction that still looms ahead. With my friends at my side, we will create a new world together.
We will be free.
Epilogue
A man stands with his hands clenched upon the railing, overlooking the palace grounds, still moist with newly fallen rains. His face is grim, his heart burdened, as dark as the regal uniform he wears. The fire in his eyes has gone out as he waits.
Footsteps approach from behind. He turns and waits for the man to stop before him. “Thank you for coming, Kyan.”
“Of course.” Kyan stands rigidly before the man, his hands placed awkwardly at his sides. “I hear you have decided to leave again.”
He nods. “It’s the right thing to do.”
“But things have changed. Illyria is no longer bound to the prophecy. She can choose a new path for her life.”
The man swallows, unable to look up. “She still loves him.”
“No more so than she loves you.”
He raises his head. Light glints off his sapphire eyes. “I can’t ask her to give him up for me. This was her destiny.” He swallows as his voice cracks. “I won’t stand in the way of that.”
“Don’t do this.” Kyan protests, grabbing onto his arm. “It will destroy her.”
“No.” He shakes his head. “It won’t. That’s why I need you.”
Kyan steps back. “What do you mean?”
Strain lines his face as he sighs. “Wipe away her memory of me. All of their memories. Leave no trace of my presence in any of their minds.”
Kyan inhales sharply. “You can’t ask that of me. It’s cruel.”
The man slowly nods. “And yet it is far more kind than what life would be like if I remained.” He steps forward and grips Kyan’s arm. “Please, do this one thing for me.”
“I… I don’t know if I can.”
The young man smiles and releases his grip. “I have faith in you. You have only ever done what is best for her.”
He steps around Kyan and heads toward the door but pauses as Kyan calls out. “Are you sure this is what you really want, Bastien?”
The man turns back, his face a mask of grief. Moisture clings to his eyes as he shakes his head. “No, but it is what is best for her. I love her too much to stay.”
The sound of retreating footsteps echoes in my mind as I jerk upright. I hear a rustling beside me and smile, realizing I’m not alone. A warm glow of a reading lamp perches atop a side table, glowing warmly beside me. Arms wind around me, holding me close.
“Hey,” a sleepy voice murmurs in my ear. “It’s okay. I’m right here.”
I sink into Eamon’s embrace, closing my eyes to the dream. I stiffen, raising a hand to my cheek, realizing it is damp with newly fallen tears. Eamon shifts on the couch, turning me so he can look upon me fully.
“You’re crying,” he whispers.
I nod. “I had the same dream again. This time it was longer. ”
Eamon takes my hands in his, raising them up to press his lips against them. “It’s just wedding jitters. Kyan says it’s normal to have weird dreams, and with the wedding only a few weeks away, this is bound to happen.”
I smile, knowing he is probably right. “It just… It felt so real.”
“I know.” He draws me toward him, setting his book aside to cradle me to his chest like he has done so many times before. “Want to tell me about it?”
I hesitate for a moment, feeling oddly protective of my dream. It is silly, of course. I share everything with him. “I dreamed about Bastien,” I whisper.
He presses his lips against my forehead and murmurs, “Never heard of him.”
COMING 2014
VENGEANCE
Book Three
~ A RISING Novel ~
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Amy Miles was born and raised in a military family but now lives w
ith her husband and son in South Carolina. She is also the author of Forbidden, Reckoning, Redemption and Captivate. To learn more about her and her books, visit www.amymilesbooks.com/
SNEAK PEEK
COMING March 2014
DESOLATE
Book I of the Immortal Rose Trilogy
~ An Arotas Prequel ~
ONE
1690, Transylvania
Caro de carne mea. Os ex ossibus meis. Lorem nocte in saecula saeculorum.
The words whisper through my mind like a long forgotten song as my eyes flutter open. Light and dark battle around me, seeking purchase on the room. Flames lick the wooden walls, trailing overhead to embrace the knotted timbers that hold the inflamed roof aloft.
Ash pelts down upon me like a livid rain, singeing flesh and hair. I cry out as I roll away from the gaping hole above, beating at the embers that set the hem of my dress alight.
I pause as my fingers glide across the rich fabric of my voluminous skirts, seizing it between my fingers to draw it up so that I can see it in the dim light. The material was once white and adorned with lace, accustomed for a wedding. It is now a dingy gray, soiled and charred into fraying bits. The ruffled hem of my dress crumbles into ash as I run my finger along it, fluttering down to land upon my bare feet.
I had slippers, I think as I turn to look about me, confused and dazed by my odd surroundings.
Heat from the flames strokes my cheek with mounting intensity. I can feel my eyelashes beginning to mat together with a sweat that drips from my brow. I swipe the beads away with the back of my hand and realize a fever has captured me in its grasp.
The air hangs thick before me, weighted with smoke and the scent of something repulsive, as if the grave itself spewed forth its inhabitants.
I blink to see through the haze, startled to discover that when I focus, I can see each particle of ash that drifts to the floorboards, leaving a thick dusting on everything within sight.