Page 127 of To Dance with Death

“The moment he is free, Moranya will no longer have power, and the realm will start to decay. He must immediately release themagic that will bring it to completion to prevent that. There will be no time to escape.”

I lean against a column and take several minutes to calm the racing of my heart, my stomach in knots. I hear them discuss the drying of the resin, which would take several hours. During that time, he would address his court.

“And Vasalie?” I hear Gustav ask, and my heart seems to freeze.

But I don’t hear Anton’s answer, not with the scraping of tools. After, he tells Gustav to pour some of the excess resin into a small bottle, which he will take with him into Moranya’s Lair to fit the final shard into place.

All the while, my heart breaks yet again. Hasn’t he sacrificed enough?

How could he not tell me?

But of course he wouldn’t want me to know, because he knows I would never let him take that mirror back.

He would be right.I won’t.

I bring them the tray of food, which they barely pick at, concentrating as they are. Hours pass, and I can’t help but marvel as Anton works. He’s careful, steady with his fingers.

Meanwhile, my thoughts swerve and spiral through my options, until Basile enters the workshop.

At that, Anton glances up. “Basile? How in the blazes did you get here so fast?”

“You think I didn’t keep track of you, Majesty? I saw where you went and used the same portal.”

“Didn’t I give you orders to stay?”

“The queen dismissed me. Our troops are on the way home,” he says, proceeding to deliver the rest of his report.

“Update the council,” Anton orders afterward. “Please send word to them all. We will meet in the throne room in an hour.”

Basile nods dutifully, then leaves the workshop.

And an idea clicks into place. Basile is the only one who might defy his king—if it means protecting him.

I follow Basile outside.

Anton fetched my soul right from the Lair of Death—at his own peril. I was given more time, and now I understand why.

I helped to restore him. I’ve witnessed him as the king he was always meant to be. I even had time with him—to fall in love with him, to be with him, however temporary it was.

And now I get to save him one last time.

Chapter Forty-Five

Anton

“They’re ready for you, Sire,” calls Basile. “In the throne room.”

“Impeccable timing,” Anton says, setting down his pliers. “That wraps it up, actually. Save for the last shard, of course, which Vasalie still has.”

His gaze tracks to where she’s perched by the window, watching him pensively. He lifts a brow. “Admiring me so thoughtfully, are you?”

“Committing every detail to memory,” she responds, her lips sneaking up in a half smile. But when he holds out his arm, she shakes her head. “It isn’t appropriate for me to join you. Not for this.”

“Preposterous,” he says. “My court will welcome—”

“If it’s all right, I’d rather stay here. Please, Anton. Just this once.”

He frowns. Something is off, but he doesn’t have time to dwell on it. Instead he resolves to finish the matter as quickly as possible. Ten minutes at most. Because time is of the essence. All day, he has worked as quickly as possible in the hopes of having a few hours to spend with her before he returns the mirror to Moranya.