If I were down in the kitchen, I’d raid the pantry of all our pudding cups.
But I’m too tired.
Climbing onto my bed, I recline on the pillow. My hair is still wet from my shower and I roll onto my side, gazing at the lavender walls. The color reminds me of Kirian’s eyes.
Although he’s never been in this house, he’s invaded this place.
Everywhere I go, I see him in everything around me. Because it’s not the location—he’s embedded so far into my soul, I know he’ll never leave.
I guess that’s what being fated mates is all about. A connection that goes beyond space and time.
I wonder what Kirian’s doing. I wonder if he’s happy, or if he’s losing his mind like I am.
My eyes grow heavy with fatigue, but I don’t fight sleep. The faster tomorrow comes, the sooner I can see him again.
I’ve spent so many nights like this. Lying here alone. Thinking about him. His eyes, his smile, the way he makes my heart flutter.
I’d thought it was a silly crush.
But now I know it’s more.
It’s destiny.
“I love you,” I whisper, sending it up into the universe, hoping it will make it to Kirian’s ears.
Kirian
Five and a Half Months Later
Agony. I thought I knew what pain was, but these past several months have been the worst of my existence.
During Quinn’s time here, I became addicted to her. That’s the only way I can describe it. My sleep is restless. My appetite is gone. I physically ache and itch.
But today I’ll get my portal.
I’ll be reunited with my love.
The day Quinn disappeared, Damon and I made a pact—we wouldn’t tell anyone what happened. I let people make their own assumptions, and a rumor that Quinn had been killed spread like wildfire through the kingdom.
So many mourned her loss.
They still do.
Just last week, a sprite delivered a message to me in the Dream Realm to tell me the gnomes were sculpting a statue in her honor, even though they don’t have the resources to do so.
They’ll be rewarded for their loyalty.
Since Damon’s palace is just on the other side of the Shadowlands, I decided to stay there until further notice. I sent word to Delaveria saying Gia should take over while I’m gone.
I almost feel bad about letting people believe Quinn died, but I still don’t know who the traitor is. Whoever they are, they think I’m hiding out in Damon’s castle licking my wounds. Too depressed to face the world.
Never underestimate the power of being underestimated.
In reality, I’ve been planning my revenge. That’s the thing about missing Quinn. To distract myself, I’ve thought of every cruel and unusual way to punish my enemy.
They will pay.
My body hums with excitement as I make my way through the Shadowlands.
This is a trip I know too well now. Although Astrid said the portal wouldn’t be ready for months, I’ve visited her often. Just in case it developed sooner.
And also because I actually enjoy her company. Damon’s right—she grows on you after a while.
As soon as I enter Astrid’s cave, I smell the portal. Yeah, this one’s got some kick.
“Ready?” I ask, unable to hide the anxiousness in my voice.
“Ah, ah—”
“Right.” I pull the band from my hair, and the knot falls free. “Let’s get on with business then.”
This time, instead of scissors, I hear a tiny crank before a buzzing sound follows.
“Sit here, mighty king.”
“Are those sheep shearers?” I go to one of the dining chairs.
“Something like that.”
“You’re taking it all?”
“Just the sides and the back.” She ties up the top section of my hair before getting to work.
The vibrations feel weird on my scalp as at least twelve inches of my hair rain down to the floor. After she’s done, she puts the clippers away and starts to brush what’s left on my head.
“Can I go now?” I ask, impatiently.
She clicks her tongue with disapproval. “You can’t go to Quinn like this. You look like your hair got into a fight with a meat cleaver and lost.”
Pressing my lips together, I let out a hum. “A very apt description of what just happened.”
“I’ll fix it for you,” she says, her fingernails sectioning off rows on my scalp.
Doesn’t she know I’m in a hurry? This isn’t the time to play hairdresser.
I hold up a hand. “Really, you don’t have to do that.”
“I work fast.”
“Astrid.”
“Mighty king.”
“Fine,” I relent with a grunt, relaxing in the chair.
I’ll let her have her fun. She deserves it after helping me get to Quinn.
Besides, she’s not wrong about being efficient. In the short time we’ve been arguing about it, she’s already gotten through one braid.
She moves onto the next.
My scalp prickles as her gentle movements weave the strands together. It reminds me of all the times Quinn practiced her braiding skills on my head. At first, she was clumsy, and sometimes she pulled too hard. But eventually, she became an expert. I remember the way she liked to touch it, absentmindedly playing with the ends, twirling them around her delicate fingers.
“I miss her,” I rasp out, my eyes burning as my throat gets tight.
Crying isn’t something I do. Ever. But I’ve reached a breaking point.
“There, there, my king,” Astrid soothes. “You’ll be with Quinn soon enough. I’ve ticked off all the boxes to make sure of it.”
“What boxes?”
The quick motions of Astrid’s fingers stop as she finishes the last row. Then she uses my hair band to form the long strands into a small bun.
The clatter of a bowl on the table makes me turn. I hear the pouring of liquid and the scraping of a spoon as she stirs the contents.
“Someone doesn’t want you to get to Quinn’s world. Not now, not ever. I see a spell. An unsuccessful one. She’s been trying to block portal access in Quinn’s area. She’s casting a pretty wide net.”
“She? One of the witches?”
Instead of answering me, Astrid continues, “But you have something that’s keeping her from being able to complete it. An
