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Not all mates are romantic. Some are simply the balance to our chaos, a perfectly carved jigsaw piece, clicking into place in the soul—but they’re no less vital. Two grieving orphans united in an academy of healers. One woven of glitter and sunlight, the other of sorrow and shadow. In all things, there must be balance.
And the ethereally glowing blonde standing inside the frame was mine.
A ragged sob tore up my chest, sandpaper against the tender skin of my throat.
“Is that—”
“Blythe,” Lana finished Aren’s question in a rush of relief. All three of us crowded the glass as if we could reach through and drag her home.
“Blythe!” I yelled, shoulders falling when she didn’t respond. Tears blurred my eyes as I took her in—usually bronze skin gone flat and pale, exhaustion bruising yellow beneath her eyes. She looked like she’d lost weight she couldn’t afford to lose, but she was whole. She was standing.
Four godsdamn months of terror loosened its grip by a fraction as I looked past her—the luxurious furniture, the books… the journal in her hand. Blank pages splayed wide like butterfly wings.
“Is that…”
“It can’t be,” Lana snapped, more to herself than the rest of us.
“What kind of magic is this?” Jason rumbled, half cautious, half enamored. The feeling was mutual.
“The raw kind,” Aren breathed. I couldn’t peel my eyes from the picture in the glass long enough to look at any of them. I was trapped there with her, desperate for her to hear me. See me.
I raised a trembling hand and laid it flat against the cold glass. “Blythe, look at me.”
She did. My heart lurched as those husky blue eyes flashed to the glass—and straight through me.
My stomach dropped. I shook my head, frantic. She mirrored the motion, though hers read as denial, not urgency. Shoulders rising and falling once, she snapped the book closed and vanished.
“No!” I cried, searching the rim of the frame for a seam, a rune, some gateway I could tear open.
“Where is she?” Lana breathed, death wrapped around every syllable. For once, I prayed she’d get to unleash it.
“Likely wherever Ally is.”
“How do we get through?”
Just like that, I knew both of them would abandon this mission if it meant bringing Blythe and Alvara home. They’d brave that hell of a desert twice over for our girls.
“I don’t know that—”
“Guys?” Brody cut in, though he didn’t need to say more. We were already rushing to his side, where a solitary spot on the bookshelf glowed…
The leather-bound book reappeared out of thin air.
Blythe
I canted my head, blinking away the afterimage of that blinding burst and staring at the empty spot on the shelf.
Odd.
So odd.
Rhiannon was a kook. If this place didn’t cement that as fact, I wasn’t sure what would.
Only…
Rhiannon couldn’t have lived here. She’d died ages before this place was built, at least judging by the architecture. But… who else could be responsible?
“Blythe?” A tremulous voice froze me in place. Heart hammering, I threw my shields up, steadied my breathing, and begged my body to turn—to move—to do anything. “Blythe!?” Magnolia’s voice came again, more desperate now, cutting through my bewilderment.
