“The ego does not fall far from the tree,” Chris said, but I ignored him, knowing well what my son’s wit was hiding.
“If you’re here, then…” Alex looked away, jaw tightening as he struggled to contain his emotions, wiping a hand across eyes that were more blue than grey. So like his mother.
I nodded, confirming his fears. But what was there for me to say in this short moment when I was allowed in this world? I’d watched him born, watched him grow from a boy into a man under his mother’s guiding eye. I knew him, but to Alexandre, I was a stranger. Little more to him than the sum of the stories told about me. He was older than I’d been when I left – than how I appeared to him now – somewhat shorter, but filled out by his adult years and hours spent training with his uncle. Though he was everything I could have wanted in a child, sentiment between us would be awkward and strange.
But neither could I leave having said nothing. I was not my father.
“When you are playing cards,” I said, “you might consider losing from time to time. Especially when you’re playing against your Uncle Fred. He takes great offense to cheating, and he’s starting to become suspicious.”
His eyes widened, then he crossed his arms. “I don’t cheat.”
I laughed. “All trolls cheat at cards – it’s in your blood. The lying on the other hand, that came from your mother.” Clapping him once on the shoulder, I started up the stairs, goodbyes seeming unwarranted now that they knew I could see them when I wanted.
Her labored breathing filled my ears before I even entered the room, and for a long time, I stood with my hand on the handle, searching for the courage I needed.
“I know you’re there.” Her voice was weak, but familiar. “So quit skulking, and come in.”
Smiling, I opened the door.
Thirty years had come and gone, but even though illness had rendered her frail, she was as beautiful as she’d been at seventeen. Her crimson hair had grown long again, and it hung in a thick braid over one shoulder. The scar on her cheek had faded into a thin white line that was fiercely lovely, and the faint creases near her eyes spoke more to character than age. But none of that mattered, because her blue gaze was filled with pain, fluid rattling in her lungs, and her heartbeat weak. It would not be long now.
“I’ve been waiting for you,” she whispered as I sat next to her on the bed, taking her hand. “But I was starting to think you wouldn’t come. That you didn’t…”
Twin tears rolled down her cheeks, and mindful of her fragile state, I pulled her close. “I told you once that I’d love you until the day I took my last breath, and that is true now as it was then. But how did you know…”
“He told me,” she said, her breath ragged against my throat. “When Alex was born, he told me that I’d see you in the end.”
And how many times had I accused my uncle of being heartless and cruel?
A rash of coughing took her, and I held her slender form through it, fear building in my chest as her heart stuttered. She was dying. Cécile was dying.
“It hurts.”
My eyes burned. “It will be over soon.”
Cécile took one last breath, and then her heart stilled.
The pain was incredible, like I was being gutted, my chest ripped in two. The silken thread of our bond stretched and frayed, but I clung to it, held on. Refused to let go.
Please, was the only thought in my mind as I tore open a path to Arcadia and stepped through.
Chapter Sixty-Six
Cécile
The air was warm and humid with the taste of a lurking summer storm. The sweet scent of some unknown flowers filled my nose, and against my cheek, I felt the press of a linen shirt, the skin beneath burning with unnatural heat. And a heartbeat in my ear that was as steady and familiar as my own.
“A dream,” I whispered, because I’d lost track over the years of how often I’d lost myself in his arms, only to be torn awake and find myself in an empty bed.
“Not a dream,” Tristan said, and I lifted my face to gaze into silver eyes, his face exquisite and unchanged.
“Then I’m…?”
He nodded, the hand pressing against the small of my back warm through the silk of my sapphire dress. My body, I noticed, had reverted to a state it had not seen in decades. You are as you imagine yourself to be.
“How?” I asked, casting my gaze around at the lush green of Arcadia, the landscape shifting and changing and full of strange life. “I’m human.” And I knew better than most how much iron ran through my veins.
“A human body cannot pass between worlds,” he said, “but a human soul, it turns out, suffers no such impediments. That’s how my uncle was able to bring you here before, however temporarily.”