Her stomach dipped as she glanced at the boulder with his boots and cloak.
No. He had—oh gods, that washerbinding, the book she’d written, the one she’d poured her entire soul into like a wax mould. Her version ofThe Nameless Book. That was the last straw. The last intrusion she’d allow.
Emmery stumbled over, her drenched clothes heavy as water streamed off her. “Did you dig through my things? Did you … did youreadthis?”
“The book was on your night table,” he said simply. As he waded to the ledge, his shirt clung to his chest, his hair damp and a stretched curl fell in his eye. “I’m only teasing you, angel.”
Emmery turned to him as hurt stabbed through her. For him to read something soprivate, without her permission, and he went into her room. Went through her things. “H-howcouldyou—?” Her voice broke.
And for the first time, the King’s eyes rounded in shock as he analyzed the fracture in her voice. And how vastly he’d overstepped.
Before Destonne could respond, she gathered her things and stormed off, while she clutched the books to her chest as if they could hold her together.
CHAPTER TWENTY
EMMERY
Emmery slept fitfully. Each time she shut her eyes, she descended into nightmares, and the terrors persisted, ramped up since she’d last seen Shade.
Sometimes she would find herself laying awake at night thinking of their kiss. His soft lips, the urgency in which he held her, tender, yet it was still only a dream. And that, in itself, hurt.
Gods, she couldn’t even remember what his voice sounded like. If she squinted hard enough, sometimes she thought she could find that thread of a memory, but it always slipped away.
Now each time she thought of Shade, their last interaction crept back. However, that person wasnotShade. Maybe it’dbeen a drug-induced hallucination from the healing tonic, but either way, those red eyes haunted her dreams. Whether it was her state of mind or her overwhelming fear of encountering imposter Shade again, Emmery couldn’t find her way back to the Divide. Instead she remained suspended in the terrors of her own mind.
She used the anger of what happened with Destonne, and her newfound rage to help her claw her hands into the seam of her dream and rip. Her muscles strained and a feral yell tore from between clenched teeth until the nightmare parted and—
She tumbled into the Divide. It welcomed her like her own shadow, enveloped her in a warm gooey embrace and she sank into its familiar vastness that stretched on into eternity. After she shoved herself back onto her feet, Emmery brushed off her trousers and cinched her braid tighter as she remembered her purpose. Why she needed to be here.
“Shade?” she called into the void.
No response.
The longer she walked in the infinite shadows and inky water, the more silence sank its teeth into her bones and replaced that welcoming embrace with eerie terror. A shiver needled Emmery's spine as she spun, swearing she could feel eyes on her, someone watching her from the moment she arrived.
Gods, the Divide was supposed to be her safe place, a freedom from her nightmares, but it had become an extension of them. It wasn’t her sanctuary without Shade. Becausehewas her sanctuary.
If it took until the end of time, she would find him. She would tear the whole world apart if that was the cost.
As a screech sounded from the darkness, the hair stood on the back of her neck.
There was something here.
And it wasn’t Shade.
Emmery slowly backed away, not sure where to go, or if she could even exit this place by her own free will. She’d never wanted to leave before and had always been stolen away from Shade.
Something cold and hard brushed Emmery’s back. She stifled a scream, as she darted and whirled, her limbs wild and teeming with adrenaline. And as she stood there, chest heaving, her eyes focused and the energy shooting through her veins fizzled to a numb, icy blur.
A few paces away, Zyphira sat in an enormous chartreuse armchair that swallowed her like a pearl on a pillow. Her intimidating plum-coloured eyes glimmered as she looked Emmery over, or rather picked her apart. Gods, if she wanted that, she would have dreamed up a version of Destonne.
“It has been too long, dearest,” she said.
“Zyphira,” Emmery bowed her head and pressed a hand over her heart. “What a pleasant surprise.” The strange screeching behind her faded.
Ripples scattered around the Oracle’s feet as she silently met the ground. With a snap of her fingers, the chair disappeared and she waved Emmery forward. “Come.”
Like a compliant pet, Emmery nearly tripped over herself to follow.