Page 126 of To Dance with Death

With a bounce, Marian nods. “We must go get him! Come, this way—”

“There’s no time,” I tell her. “I’ll explain everything soon, but I need meals for His Majesty and Lord Bayard.”

I return with a tray packed with scones, cheeses, and sliced fruit in hand, thanks to Marian grabbing every bit of food in sight.

But as I near the doors, I pause, Anton and Gustav’s conversation reaching my ears.

“…all seems so unreal. All this time, and you’re certain this is wise?”

“I am,” comes Anton’s voice. “But there’s something you should know. There is another reason I didn’t agree to help Moranya repair the mirror—beyond unleashing Kastiel. It’s the reason I left Basile behind in Razam.”

“Sire,” Gustav says. “What is it?”

“The veil between the living and the dead is thin—torn in places, even,” Anton says. “Through my studies, I know that once magic is set in motion, its course cannot be changed. It’s rather like a blueprint, a design that must be followed. It means that not even Kastiel can alter the magic Mercy set into place for the creation of her realm. He can only act upon what was already set in place. Either he will choose to destroy it—which Moranya is certain he would never do—or he can bring it to perfect completion, sealing any soul from ever returning. That was her intent, after all—that it would protect souls from the living, and the living from souls who might want vengeance. And thus, with the veil repaired, that means no more portals. Moranya was only able to open them through the existing tears.”

“But certainly that isn’t a bad thing,” Gustav notes.

“Certainly not. But there will be no more resurrecting, I imagine.”

I had suspected that. Even so, my heart flutters.

Gustav takes several beats to respond. Then, like only a brother might, he says, “That’s a shame. I rather liked the element of surprise—not knowing when and where you might show up after a good walloping. This means I can just, I don’t know. Shove you off a balcony and take your crown for real.”

“My friend, you can’t even bring yourself to kill a spider. I’d like to see you try.”

“Wait until I tell Basile,” Gustav says. “He’s not going to leave you alone for a second.”

“Let’s not tell him. He’ll sleep much easier at night.”

My fingers tighten on the tray, and I take another step forward, only to stop once more when Anton says, “I suppose it won’t matter in the end, though. Because I suspect that whoever takes the mirror to Moranya might not be able to come back.”

I nearly drop the tray.

“You mean…at all?” Gustav says. I hear some shuffling, and then, “No, Sire. You absolutely cannot be the one to return it. We will send someone else.”

“Nonsense. I would not condemn someone else.”

“I will go.”

“You will not.”

“I absolutely will.”

“I’ll have you arrested and imprisoned until I leave if I must.”

“But, Sire,” Gustav argues, “we cannot lose you again. Not to mention, the Syndicate—”

“I will meet with the whole of my court this evening and pronounce you king—officially. This time, there will be no shortage of witnesses, and we have Sofya to vouch for me as well. My work here is done.”

My hands are trembling even as I try to steady the tray.

No. I can’t let him do this.

“But I don’t understand,” Gustav implores. “Couldn’t they simply allow you to come back before they finish the realm?”

“It doesn’t work like that,” says Anton. “I will have to put the final shard into the resin while I am in Moranya’s Lair; otherwise, Kastiel will be released too soon.”

“Yes, but—”