The air on Lisel Island is thin and briny. I breathe deep, my chest expanding as I take it all in. This is where I grew up. Here I am at home.
“Do you think he’s expecting visitors?” Wren asks.
“Nathaniel Archer raised me. I’ve no need for an invitation here.”
“If you say so.” She shrugs, leaving a substantial amount of space between us as we contemplate the remodeled brownstone.
One of my first tasks as interim king was to have a team fix it up, and a fine job they did. I have not had a chance to witness it since the remodel. The caved steps have been demolished and replaced, the door repainted a deep shade of green. The windows are quartz clear, their sills sanded and coated with fresh varnish. Even the planters have been cleared out, at the ready to host flowers come spring.
If only I could have worked on it myself. Perhaps when this is over I can build one for El. She would love that. A place for us alone, away from duty and responsibility. My father had this one built for my mother. A grand gesture would be just the thing—
Wren coughs and I consider her with a sideways glance. She rubs and rolls her neck, breathing deep and stretching. She had a more difficult time than usual transforming into her Mask state tonight, and even then her griffin didn’t appear quite right, her feathers thinned, her beak not fully grown. It was a relief she was able to shift at all. So far it seems Physic and Ever are the only two Callings that have vanished completely, but some of the others have also begun to show signs of wear. Stormy’s shaky Magnet and now Wren’s off-kilter griffin. What will fail next?
Grinding my teeth, I bury my anxiety. My new mortality has made me more cautious as of late, holding me back like a cage. This is why we have come. Nathaniel will have answers.
Wren proceeds up the steps and I follow. Blueprints for El’s country home occupy my brain, filling me with hope for our future once more. She will require a room for her music, a space magnificent enough to house a grand piano. Would she want a sound studio as well, a place where she can record her own music? Where we can record together?
I shake my head, forcing myself to focus on the task at hand. First things first. If I desire a private haven where El and I can be us again, I must stop what’s happening to the Callings and Thresholds before it ventures too far.
Wren knocks on the front door. I chuckle and move past her, twisting the knob and walking straight in. The foyer is not at all how I remember. The wood floor is clean and buffed, the ratty rug removed. “Nathaniel?” I cough and wait. When no answer returns I try again. “Nathaniel. It’s Joshua. Are you home?”
Wren arrives beside me. “Maybe he’s out of town.” The slight lilt in her voice tells me she’s joking, but this does nothing to ease my apprehension.
“Natha—”
A creak sounds from the floor above, and Wren and I look up in unison. Two more creaks follow, continued by a scuffle, a cough, and another creak.
Nathaniel appears at the top of the stairs. His squinted expression portrays annoyance, but then he rubs his spectacles on his robe and blinks. Now his face softens, the hard lines smoothing. He does not smile, but I know this man well. For him this is a smile.
“Joshua, my boy. To what do I owe this pleasure?” His accent is the same as ever. I always found it odd as a child. It was not until I spent time in the Third that I discovered the way he speaks is common for those from overseas. A British accent, they call it.
He hobbles down the stairs, clutching the refinished railing as if his life depends on it. When he meets me at the bottom, we embrace. He was not able to attend the coronation, the return to the castle so soon after Crowe’s expiration too much for his aged bones.
After a few good hacks he says, “Come in. Come in.” He meanders into the room to my left and Wren and I follow. “Forgive me for the mess. I was not expecting visitors.” A cloud of dust rises when he plops into an armchair. “Nice to see you as well, Miss Song. How is your father, my old apprentice?”
“As good as can be expected.” Wren folds her arms and leans against the frame separating this room from the foyer. “He keeps busy as a trome-visiting Physic these days.”
“Very good,” Nathaniel says. “Taught Wade everything he knows. A fine Physic, that man.”
“Yes, sir.”
I place my hand on Nathaniel’s shoulder. “I wish you would reconsider my offer and come live in the castle. There is no reason for you to remain here. We have plenty of room and you would be well cared for. You could be near me and Makai and Elizabeth and El. No traveling back and forth—”
“Bah.” He waves a hand. “I have no need for servants or pampering. It was time for me to be done with all the brouhaha. I have lived here many years and manage just fine on my own. Besides, I like it on the island. It’s quiet.”
I shake my head and kneel before the fireplace across from him, stacking logs in a crisscross fashion the way Makai taught me when I was eight.
“So, what brings you to my humble abode?”
“I came to seek your knowledge.” I grab some parchment from a nearby stack, crumple it, and stuff it here and there among the logs. “I suppose you may have noticed your Physic abilities have ceased?” I glance back at him.
He rubs his chin. “Indeed. Just the other day I cut my finger on a paring knife. What should have been a simple repair required salve and a bandage. Very odd. Then again, I am old and weak and tired. Tell me, what is the latest on the mainland?”
I find the matches on top of the mantel and light the fire. The draft from the chimney challenges the flames, but after a few tries the parchment begins to crackle. I relay the events of El’s coronation, sharing the details of our run-in with Gage and Isabeau. I explain Kuna’s death and my failure to save him. “Even El’s Mirror song had no effect.”
“I see.” He sneezes and rubs his nose. “And Makai and his bride?”
I fill him in.
Nathaniel steeples his fingers and presses them to his lips. He closes his eyes and now I know to wait. This is what he does when he’s thinking. He runs everything through his brilliant mind and pieces details together, making connections before coming up with possible answers or solutions.
At last he releases a long, phlegmy exhale. “Continue, please.”
I glance at Wren. She offers the slightest nod and for some reason this relieves my fear. It’s as if she’s saying, “I’m here. I support you.” So I continue. “The Threshold at Dawn Lake. It appears to be . . . draining.”
Nathaniel’s eyebrows arch, but his eyes remain closed. “Is it, now? How very interesting. Yes, how interesting indeed.”
I rock back on my heels and rise, wiping soot from my palms onto my thighs. “You know something. I knew you would.”
“I can but speculate. Such a situation has never occurred in the history of the Reflections. That we are aware of, anyway.”
Wren straightens and moves farther into the room.
I gaze down at my adoptive father.
The fire is ablaze now and the orange light reflects off his spectacles. “The Void. How are you handling it?”
My heartbeat halts. He knows, but how? I haven’t told anyone, not even Makai. My gaze shifts to Wren as sweat beads on my temples. I expect to find a disgusted glare. Instead I recognize the look she gives as sympathy. I roll up my sleeve, flex and clench my right hand. “It was stagnant for a while, but recently it has begun to spread.”
“I see. The day of the coronation?”
I nod.
“Interesting.” Now he opens his eyes and slowly turns his attention to me. “When Eliyana took on the Verity, am I correct in assuming the burden of the Void did not fall solely to you?”
Neck pulsing, I swallow and relent. “Yes.”
“Kyaphus took on half?”
My pulse is in my ears now. “Yes.” I hesitate before relaying the next bit, but finally add, “He and El shared a Kiss of Infinity shortly before.” Might as well get it all out in the open.
“And I suppose you believe because the Void enters the one the Verity’s vessel cares for most, Eliyana cares for you both equally?”
My stomach clenches. “Yes.” Except, not quite. Otherwise she’d have given us both a Kiss of Infinity. But I can’t bring myself to admit this part out loud.
“Interesting theory,” he muses. “Any idea where it came from?”
His question makes me cock my head. Is he being rhetorical on purpose? “The Reflection Chronicles. Where else?”
“And in exactly which volume did you find this information?”
I scan my thoughts, racking my memories for an answer. When I can find none I admit, “I never actually read it. It is common knowledge.” Correct?
“And therein lies the problem.” Excitement tremors his voice. “Relying on word of mouth rather than going to the source yourself.”
My brain illuminates. How could I have been so careless? Why didn’t I research more? Why didn’t I search beyond the volumes in my study?
“The truth is,” Nathaniel says, “it is precisely the opposite. The Void does not enter the one the Verity’s vessel loves most. No, no. The Void inhabits the one—or ones in this case—who cares most for the one who retains the Verity.”
Of course. El may not have given us both a Kiss of Infinity, but we each gave her one.
Wren snorts and when I look at her she rolls her eyes. “Of course she’d have two guys in love with her.”
My lips flatten and I scratch the back of my head. She is not El’s biggest fan, and the blame for that falls to me. Will Wren ever forgive me for what happened between us four years ago? She can hold a grudge better than anyone. At some point I hope she can let it go.
“It is more complicated, Miss Song,” Nathaniel says. “I knew someday it would come to this. I knew eventually I would be forced to explain.” With a groan he rises from the chair and looks me square in the face.
Whatever comes next, the seriousness in his stare tells me I’m ill prepared for it.
“Joshua,” he says. “Kyaphus Rhyen is your twin brother.”