Page 132 of To Dance with Death

“The court has been reminded of your sacrifice,” Moranya—or Mercy—begins. “You restored my Kastiel to me, and at the cost of never again seeing the one you love. That said…” She turns her head toward Kastiel.

From his long, silver robe that matches hers, he reveals the…the mirror. “As it happens, the mirror has some residual magic left within—something we did not realize until this morning. You can use this to return to your world.” He pauses. “Furthermore, should another Fate take my place as harbinger and wish to destroy it, itmay offer some protection, as it did when I first made it. But be forewarned: You must guard it carefully. Its knowledge must be kept a secret, entrusted only to a few.”

Hope swells in me, to the point of bursting. “You mean it?”

“Consider it our gift,” Mercy says, “for all that you have done. We do not wish to see you parted from Anton, nor do we want your life to be cut short.”

I glance at Emilia, then back at them, surprised. “You…you are certain?”

“Very,” says Emilia, her hand on my shoulder. “Live, my darling girl.”

I swallow. “But leaving you…”

“Isn’t for eternity,” she finishes.

Words flee my tongue, my throat thick with emotion. The thought of seeing Anton again, of returning…

But I am not the only one who deserves that chance. “Your Majesties, I request that you allow Sundar to return with me. Please, I beg you to allow me to carry his soul from here, the way Anton carried mine.”

Because he thought nothing of himself even after dying. He didn’t take the time to mourn, to grieve what he lost; instead he thought only of saving the world he could never again live in.

I know he’s behind me, there in the crowd, but I don’t yet look.

“He has been dead for some time,” Moranya says sadly. “Whereas your physical body is still intact…”

“Anton had his body preserved. Or at least, that was the hope. Could we not at least try?” I know it’s asking a lot, but I don’t care. “You allowed Anton to carry my soul from this lair and return it to my body. Could I not do the same for him, with your permission?”

“I suppose that is possible, so long as the body has yet to decay,” Kastiel says. “Shall we put it to a vote? Does anyone in this room object?”

No one, not a single soul, raises a hand in opposition.

With Sundar’s wisp of a soul draped in my arms, and the mirror at my side, Emilia escorts me to Moranya’s tower. We would reopen the original portal there—for the very last time.

In this state, Sundar is not conscious—a kindness from Mercy. If she hadn’t put his soul to sleep, the process of his body and soul stitching together once more would be rather painful, or so she told me. But Sundar, in pure Sundar fashion, had made a point to wink at Emilia and say,I’ll be back one day. Until then, feel free to visit me in my dreams.

Emilia had laughed, saying,I think you’re a bit young.

He’d replied:I won’t be forever.

During our walk, Emilia and I reminisce about old times—the forts we used to make, the cakes we used to bake. But I pause us both before we enter the passage that leads us through the mountain when I notice a single, dark shape several feet away, there among the rocks.

Emilia sees him, too.

“We will be evaluating every codex and reexamining every soul—and that includes his,” she says. “He will face a new trial, as will your father. Tell me, daughter of mine, what do you wish for him? What would you see happen?”

I watch Illian as he steps from the shadows, his profile limned by the aurora—an aurora that is now simply that: a brilliant display in the sky, and nothing more.

I allow him to approach, knowing that he has no power over me. He will never have power again.

He doesn’t speak, though. Just observes me in turn, perhaps already sensing that this will be the last time I see him—at least until I die for real. He stops several feet away.

“He was groomed the way Aesir was,” I say, knowing he can hear every word. “It isn’t an excuse, of course, but rather an explanation. I think things may have been different if he had never encounteredmy father. If his mother hadn’t made him work tirelessly for the crown—only to have it ripped away. There are times, seldom as they are, that I mourn for him—for who he could have become. Now he must exist knowing that he could have had it all—including me—but never will.”

Still Illian says nothing, just waits, as if absorbing my words. This is the only farewell he will ever get from me.

“I feel no need to serve further justice myself,” I say, giving him one last glance. “I killed him, and he must now stay here like this. So I trust the Court of the Just to decide whether or not he’s paid for his crimes, and to keep him in check. I ask only that you oversee his trial and judgment. It was him you were trying to save me from, after all. I want you to have the final say. As for my father…” I hesitate, biting my lip perhaps a little too hard.

I feel Emilia’s palm land on my shoulder, light as air.