I jerked my gaze up to stare at him. “What part of ‘I don’t have access to my magic’ do you not get?”
He shook his head. “I think you’ll call it back whether or not you want to—or even consciously know how to. You’ve already proven that you can pull a portion of it to you when motivated.” A tight smile formed on his lips, and I remembered how I somehow blasted him into unconsciousness.
“That wasn’t on purpose—that was an accident. You were freaking me out,” I said defensively. “And anyway, Caleb is still alive, so I couldn’t have pulled that much magic.”
Edon gave me a wry grin. “And that is precisely why I am your consort.”
“Because I knocked you out with a little magic?”
Edon shook his head. “No. Because only someone with enough power to overcome the queen would consider that amount of magic ‘little.’”
“Oh,” I said. Well, we would never find out—not with the current plan. And I was more than okay with that. I was fine with anything that kept Caleb alive. By now, the queen should be back in my mom’s mind, her power healing my brother. I wasn’t in any danger of needing my magic—I hoped. No, she’d do it. My mother had sacrificed her entire life for this day; there’s no way she would let herself fail now.
The background hum of the audience quieted. It was time. After this, I’d have Caleb again.
I all but bounced forward, ready to get this over with, but Edon didn’t move. I paused in confusion, turning around to look at Edon.
“Like I mentioned,” Edon said, an apology lurking in his eyes. “It’s best you are unconscious for this part.” Before I could respond, I saw the telltale yellow grains of pixie dust floating down from the crown of my head.
“You—you…” I dropped to my knees, my gaze unable to focus on anything other than Edon’s honey-brown eyes. I distantly registered that he sunk to the ground with me, his arms catching me under mine.
“Forgive me,” he said.
“Ass,” I whispered even as my vision deserted me.
Pixie dust seemed to create a sort of tipsy fatigue. Deena had passed out in no time flat, but it appeared to affect fae—or at least me—differently.
I felt the jostling as Edon picked me up. The way my face rubbed against the threads embroidering his robe with every muted step he took. I could even make out a smattering of words, but they seemed muddy and gurgled, like I was listening from underwater.
Panic didn’t set in, though, until Edon lowered me onto what had to be the ivory cushioned altar. This was it—the investiture was happening—and I knew, knew, I shouldn’t go through with it. I couldn’t take the risk—not from a mom I’d never met. She couldn’t take care of herself anymore. What the hell was I thinking letting her take care of Caleb? How could I be that careless again? I tried to move—to twist—get up, but my body refused to obey a single command. When I tried screaming, nothing came out. I couldn’t even move my mouth. I was trapped—awake but not—even as soft footfalls echoed around me, the murmur of voices droning on, maybe even chanting. I wasn’t sure which.
I was helpless.
Much, I realized, like Caleb.
Caleb.
As if the thought summoned him, he stood in front of me, the only thing I could see, though my eyes remained shut.
You’re here, I thought. I couldn’t talk in this halfway state between conscious and unconsciousness, so it caught me by surprise when Caleb shook his head in answer.
“Still in the hospital—at least my body is, anyway. But you managed to drag me somewhere different this time.” He seemed to gaze around at surroundings I couldn’t see.
“What is this place?” he asked, his head swiveling back. “And why are you laying on an altar?”
I wanted to groan. It’s the investiture.
“Huh. Well, they’ve laid you out like Snow White in the glass coffin—minus the glass top. It’s all very fairytale-like.” He smiled at me but it was a little too forced to seem genuine. “You’re doing great,” he said.
Why are you still in the hospital?
“Why wouldn’t I be?”
My mom. She promised to heal you if I did the investiture.
Caleb looked away from me, staring at his sneakers.
What is it? What aren’t you telling me?
“I wish we had more time,” he said. “But…” He glanced up at people I couldn’t see, the murmurs around me growing stronger, louder—almost like I was about to break the surface.
“I’m glad you pulled me here,” Caleb rushed on. “I wanted to tell you how much I love you. And not to blame yourself—you’re brave, you’re awesome—I made the decisions I made and Dad did too—that’s not on you. You did all you could—” He dropped off, something catching his eye.
“What are you saying?” I croaked. I must be getting my voice back. Several urgent voices whispered in the background.
He reached out, pressing his hand to mine. “This will be the last time I’ll be coming to you.” His voice was overly-gentle.
“Well, yeah, like this,” I said, still unable to move. “She’s going to heal you.” My tongue was sluggish.
He looked into my eyes and said, “I’m glad you were my sister. You saved me from Dad in your own stubborn, impulsive way.”
I smiled.
“And I’m glad you made me live; it’s the only way I can now return the favor.”
“What do you mean?”
“Your mom can’t heal me, Kella.”
“No, no.” I could feel my eyelids flutter. “She promised me. She can’t break a promise. After this…” I tried to wave my hand, but failed. “It’ll be you and me. This’ll be done.”
He shook his head. “She promised she’d help me, Kella. And she is. She’s helping me save you.”
My heart beat louder, my eyes flying open. Even though I could still see Caleb clearly, everyone else blurred together in a tapestry of muddy, shifting shadows. “That’s not what she—that’s
