Mystic (The Soul Seekers 3)

“I only just learned about our connection,” I say. “I haven’t had a lot of time to process it. How did you learn about it?” I arrange my face to look curious, as though I care about the answer, as I complete another step toward her.

“Suriel told me.” She stares at her boots, digs the toe deep into the snow. “He suspected early on. He’s much sharper than most people think.”

“You seem to have grown very close.”

“He’s all I have left now, isn’t he?” She lifts her gaze to meet mine, and for an instant, I’m reminded of the same sad girl I once shared a few intimate moments with.

“I’m not sure I’d agree.” The words require great effort. Every breath requires great effort. But I’m so damn close, I can’t give up now.

“Please.” She rolls her eyes. “I’m as alone as alone can be. The kids at school aren’t really my friends. They don’t really know me. Don’t actually care about me. The girls just try to steal my style, while the boys try to get in my pants. It’s nothing like what I had with you. But now I no longer have you, do I?”

“Of course you do,” I say, voice soft and coaxing. “We’ll always be friends, Phyre. And I’m here to help you—just say the word.”

“Really? Is that why I could never get you to so much as talk to me?” She meets my gaze head-on, and I can’t help but flinch. There’s no denying it’s true. “From the moment I returned to Enchantment you’ve been bent on brushing me off. Making it all too clear how you couldn’t wait to ditch me so that you could be with her.”

She glares at Daire. Her face hardening in renewed fury, almost as though she’d forgotten she was there. And I chance a look too, seeing Daire staring straight ahead, her gaze fixed on the rapidly melting sculpture, as though she’s planning something big. And though I’ve no idea what it is, I hope she’ll hold off long enough for me to do what I need to.

“Remember the day we made love?” Phyre continues to stare at Daire, but Daire steadfastly ignores her, refuses to engage. “I said, Do. You. Remember. The. Day. We. Made. Love? Answer me, Dace!”

My shoulders are sagging, my breath is becoming ragged, still I manage to say, “I do. I do remember.” Hoping it’ll be enough to appease her. It’s all I can do to hold myself up.

“What do you remember most about it? What word, if you had to pick one—and, make no doubt about it, you do—what word would you use to describe it?”

“What word would you use?” I ask, my pulse slow and labored, stalling for time.

“No, that’s not fair. I asked you first!” she sings, as though this is all a good bit of fun.

“Novel,” I say, my head growing dizzy, my vision blurry.

“Novel?” She frowns, kicks hard at the snow. “You mean like a book? Like a scene in a romance novel or something?”

The moment I shake my

head I instantly regret it. It increases the dizziness, leaving me woozy, unsteady on my feet. “Novel as in new,” I say, pushing through a fresh wave of nausea. “And by that I mean, it was all new to me. I’m afraid I had no idea what I was doing.”

“But you do now. Is that what you’re saying?” She glares at Daire, starts to swing the torch wildly again. Causing the ring of fire to spark and flare, as a noxious cloud of filthy smoke permeates the air.

I shout in protest. Then instantly regret it. It only serves to egg her on. “Phyre—” I try again. “You’ve put me in a difficult spot, and I don’t know what you want me to say. All I know is that it was new … and unexpected, and…” Daire, please forgive me. “Wonderful all at the same time.”

Phyre settles the torch by her side, seemingly satisfied. But it’s not like it makes any difference. The fire is raging, the ice is liquefying, and the once frozen-solid walls of the small diamond sculpture are well on their way to completely collapsing.

I sneak a peek at Daire, overcome by the regret of her having to listen to this. But she remains as stoic as ever. Concentrating so hard on the stake, I wonder if she’s even aware of what Phyre is saying.

“It was wonderful for me too.” Phyre grins, dips her head shyly. So lost in her memories, she misses the moment the outer shell shrinks, dissolving into a small pool of water.

But Daire notices. I can sense it in the way she stiffens behind me, as I fight to hang on to what little energy remains. Trying to estimate how long it can possibly hold up, and all I know for sure is, it won’t be long until it’s gone.

“You know why I instigated it, right?” Phyre asks, seemingly obsessed with this subject. She refuses to quit.

My mouth grows dry. My throat constricts. I can barely breathe, much less respond.

“I mean, we both know I was the aggressor. You were so cute and honorable, if I’d left it to you, nothing ever would’ve happened. Was he like that with you too?” She turns to Daire with a challenging gaze. But Daire looks right past her. “Anyway, I knew I was leaving soon. But what I didn’t tell you, was that I also knew I’d return.”

I grunt in reply, it’s the best I can do.

“The reason I didn’t tell you is because I knew things would never be the same. I knew that someday it would come to this. I knew that sometime during our sixteenth year, I would have to kill you.” She pauses, casts a contemplative gaze toward the fire. “You have no idea how awful it was to live with such a truth. And don’t think I accepted it easily. I fought with Suriel every day, all day. Or at least until I realized it would be done either way. Then I figured it may as well be done by me.” She takes a deep breath and returns to me. “But mostly, I didn’t mention it because I didn’t want you to feel like you had to make a bunch of false promises you’d be unable to keep. It would’ve soured everything, and it was important to me to keep the memory in my heart—just like your soul is now—frozen in time—glorious, luminous, perfect, and safe.”

“But my soul isn’t safe.” I nod toward the dissolving diamond, and the quickly melting ice pedestal that supports it. Seeing her look of confusion when she notices, seemingly for the first time, the dire state of the sculptures. It won’t be long before the only thing separating me from a quick and decisive death will be the ice-covered rope (now nearly thawed out) that holds the dagger. “You’ve got a red-hot stake hanging right over it. Any second now, it’ll penetrate.”