Page 144 of Obsidian Throne

His cheeks looked less pallid than they had, if only barely. He might have been merely sleeping, if not for the fact that I couldn’t seem to wake him.

I thought about that first day in his carriage, how he had casually rested his head against the wall, his eyes closed. How even then, he had sensed me, my movement as I was going for my dagger.

And I realized that although he had told me our story as he knew it, I had never given it back to him. So I did, and all I could do was hope that somewhere in his brilliant mind, he could hear me.

“It isn’t ridiculous,” I began. “To think that we were connected from the first time we danced. I look back and I realize you were all I could see. The rest of the room, the world, fell away, and it was only you, and your stupidly beautiful, frustrating face.”

I choked on a sob.

“Then you took me, and even when I wanted to hate you, I couldn’t. Because you saw me. And I saw you, too.” My eyes roamed over his features, remembering how I would scrutinize them for the smallest reaction in those early days.

“I saw every last, jagged edge of who you were and loved you more for each one. Maybe it’s because they resonated with the broken pieces of myself, or maybe we always would have been this way, perfectly fitted for one another.” The latter felt true.

That in a thousand possibilities of our lives together, every version of me belonged with every version of Evander.

“You said that you didn’t like who you were turning into when I came along,” I went on, my words tripping over themselves with urgency. Like he needed to hear this, like he would wake up if he did.

“But you weren’t the only one. I was barely living my life, barely feeling at all, and then there you were. Making me furious.” Something between a laugh and a sob escaped my lips. “Making me feel things. Making me want to take a chance on something impossible.”

I brushed one of his careless locks away from his brow, my fingers skimming the skin that wasn’t nearly as warm as it should have been.

“So I need you to come back to me, because we did it,” I told him. “We did it together, just like we said we would. We took that impossible chance, and even with all of the odds stacked against us, we won.”

Tears tracked down my cheeks, and my voice was rough with emotion.

“And it doesnotend like this. So wake up,” I demanded. “Wake up and smirk at me and call me Lemmikki.”

But he didn’t stir, aside from another fluttering of his eyelids.

I leaned over him, burying my face in the crook of his arm and trying to muffle my broken sobs. I thought about Avani and wondered how she even found the strength to open her eyes every morning.

Because if Evander didn’t survive this, I didn’t think I would either.

* * *

Lemmikki.

I must have fallen asleep that way because I was dreaming. Evander was calling me in a soft tone, and it sounded so perfect, so right, that I didn’t want to wake up.

I forced my eyelids shut tighter, trying to stay trapped in that moment for as long as I could before I had to face reality.

Lemmikki, wake up.

It sounded so real, another sob escaped my lips.

Then the arm I was sleeping on moved, the hand I was clutching so desperately squeezing mine in return.

Finally, I lifted my head, slowly, still terrified to hope. But Evander was there, his storm-cloud eyes tired, but open, and staring at my tearstained face in concern.

The sight of it only made me cry harder, my limbs going weak with relief. I pressed my lips against his mouth, his forehead, his cheeks, my tears spilling on his face.

“I love you,” I said between hitching breaths. “With every last broken piece of my soul, and when it’s whole, and everything in between.”

His hand gripped mine tighter.

“I love you, too, Lemmikki.” His voice was low and rough with disuse and still endlessly perfect. “Always.”

Lemmikkiundid me all over again, but finally, I calmed down enough to move back, calling for the healer.