my past selves. They’d always loved him.
The truth glowed inside me so brightly I wondered how I’d missed it for so long. I loved his intensity. I loved how one’s strengths complemented the other’s weaknesses. I loved the way he looked at me, and the way he melted for me alone. I loved his protective nature and his unwavering determination to live his best life and lead his people.
I had to kill Leonora so I could be with him always.
Like Saxon, I’d done some studying. I dreamed of being a family. Saxon, Ashleigh, Pagan, and Pyre. The four of us, together forever. I knew of only one way to live my dream: the phantom’s death.
The time had come for a little more studying, in fact. Something about a “bodily exchange” and “the expiration of the spirit” had caught my attention during my last read. But, Saxon had just got done worshipping me, body and soul, and I hadn’t yet caught my breath.
We were naked. I lay cuddled into his side, resting atop a downy wing. I’d gotten used to sleeping this way, enveloped by his warmth, protected and assured I would be with him when I awoke, and I wasn’t sure I’d be able to sleep without him ever again.
Afternoon sunlight streamed through tiny crevices between the wooden beams that made up the ceiling and walls, dust motes dancing. We hadn’t bothered sticking to our normal routine today. This was our last day. Tomorrow, we would return to the real world.
He would win the tournament, and we would...what? How would we make this work?
The dragons napped in stalls of their own now. They’d gotten too big to share with us or even each other. Soon, we would have to deal with all of Enchantia knowing about their existence. Raven and Tempest had seen them—not to mention whoever might have noticed them in flight—so rumors would spread. We needed a plan.
I traced a fingertip down the muscle and sinew on Saxon’s abdomen. “Are you ready to return to the real world?”
“I’m not sure I’ll ever be ready.” He kissed my temple, his eyes already at half-mast.
“What are we going to do about the dragons?”
“I can speak to—” He flinched. “I can speak to someone through vines, who passes messages to me.”
Understanding dawned. “I thought you were a wee bit odd for chatting with foliage,” I admitted. “Why did you flinch, though?”
He didn’t try to deny the instinctive reaction. “I have a secret I’ve been keeping from you. I wish I could tell you, but it’s not my secret to tell, and it’s something I’m not ready for Leonora to know.”
And the secret had to do with the person on the other end of the vine? “I understand why you can’t tell me,” I said, and I did, but I wanted to shout, See. This is why the phantom has to die. As long as I remained possessed, he would never be able to trust me fully.
He gave my temple another kiss. “We can make this work, sweetheart.”
I adored when he called me sweetheart, but had he called me “love” that once or not? Would he ever do it again? I knew I made him happy. I’d been sporting a lot of amour lately.
“As for the dragons,” he continued, “I’m told my mother and sister have said nothing. I’m guessing they don’t want to cause a panic, one of the only wise things they have done. I’m also told Noel knew when and where the dragons would be visible, and she had Ophelia cast a spell to ensure no one saw them in the air.”
Having a witch and oracle as friends—no, having two apple babies as friends came with more rewards than annoyances.
If apple babies could come up with a way to permanently cage a phantom, couldn’t they come up with a way to kill one?
Leonora’s displeasure hit me, and I cringed.
“The phantom giving you trouble?” he asked, tenderly brushing a piece of hair from my cheek.
I leaned into his touch, always eager for more. “She knows I want her dead.”
He flinched. “She owes you reparation for the years she’s stolen from you. Let her magic power your heart.”
“I...can’t. I hate being dependent on my mother’s killer. It offends every part of my being.”
He turned into me, draping his arm over my hip to hold me closer. I knew he wanted to distract me from my thoughts. He wanted me to give in, but I wouldn’t. “I crave your dowry, love.”
Love. He’d