Lotus stops, lifts her hand to her brow, and surveys the scene, as I stand right beside her, and Jude beside me, wondering if he’ll insist on continuing now that we’re here.

I turn to Lotus, hoping for some sort of instruction, advice, a heads-up, words of wisdom—willing to settle for just about anything she’s willing to give, but she just points straight ahead, motions for me to keep moving, to make that big leap between the space where I stand and the great unknown just beyond.

“But what will I do when I get there?” I ask, practically reduced to begging.

But instead of addressing me she turns to Jude and says, “Go forward. Learn. You will know when it is time to return.”

“But… I’m going with Ever… aren’t I?” He glances at us, his face a mask of confusion that matches my own.

Lotus gestures impatiently, gestures ahead, and as I follow the direction of her crooked old fingers, I’m forced to blink a few times to take it all in, to see what she sees.

Still, despite my efforts, all I get is a blurry hologram. Like a shadowy mirage that could represent a village and its people, but could just as easily be something else entirely.

“Your journeys begin here. Where it ends is for you to discover.”

Jude grasps my hand, determined to support me, to go with me, but I’m not ready just yet.

Much as I care for Jude, Damen rules my heart. He’s the one I want beside me on this journey—on any journey.

Lotus touches my arm, presses a small silk pouch into my palm. Curling my fingers around it, she says, “Everything you think you need is in here. You decide what that means.”

“But how? How will I know? How will I—” I start, a million unanswered questions storming my brain.

Not getting very far before she looks at me and says, “Trust. Believe. It is the only way to proceed.”

She nudges me forward, nudges me with a surprising amount of strength. And I can’t help it—I glance back again. My eyes scanning the area, desperately seeking Damen, as if the sheer force of my longing will magically transport him here.

But not finding him anywhere, I square my shoulders, tilt my chin, and take that first step, Jude right beside me, my hand grasped in his.

The two of us moving tentatively toward something we can’t quite make out, thought it’s not long before we’re pulled along by the irresistible force of it—like a whirling mass of energy, a vortex that’s sucking us in. And I’m just about to merge into it, when I feel it.

That familiar swarm of tingle and heat.

Soon followed by the plaintive cry of my name on his lips.

I turn, catching the flash of pain in his eyes when he sees me with Jude, assumes I’ve replaced him.

I drop Jude’s hand, watching helplessly as Jude’s swallowed into the whirl, while I strive to hold on, to straddle two worlds.

My fingers grasping, yearning, reaching for Damen, and though he moves fast, it’s not fast enough to keep our fingers from just barely grazing, the tips lightly brushing as our gaze briefly meets. And the next thing I know, I can’t stop it.

I’m yanked out of his reach.

Lost in the swirl.

Hurtling into an unknown place—into an unknown time.

Aware that Damen is here—somewhere—but unable to find him.

Already making the trip back.

Way back.

Back to the very beginning.

Chapter thirteen

“Adelina!”

The voice that calls to me is hushed, whispered, taking great care to be heard only by me.

“Adelina, my sweet, please tell me you have come for me!”

I move away from the corner, out of the darkness and into the fading stream of light just beyond. Fighting to keep my tone calm, stoic, I say, “I have come for you, Alrik.” Bowing low before him, my hands buried in the folds of my skirt so he can’t see them shake, desperate to hide my excitement, to appear respectable, ladylike, sedate.

But the moment I lift my head, the moment I see the way his dark brown eyes light on mine, his gaze partially obscured by the tumble of dark waves that fall past his heavy fringe of lashes, past his straight nose, along the curving angle of his beautifully sculpted cheekbone—when I see the way his long, lean form fills the doorway—my face betrays me.

My gaze sparks, my cheeks flush, and my lips begin to quiver and curl, unable to contain the surge of extreme pleasure and joy the mere sight of him brings.

And if his expression is anything to judge by, then he clearly feels the same way. I can tell by the way he pauses in the threshold, the way he lifts his torch high, allowing the light to spill over me.

Allowing his eyes to devour me.

I can tell by the way his breath grows labored, the way his jaw tightens, the way his gaze clouds with desire—we bear the same effect on each other.

And when he closes the space between us in a handful of steps and hugs me tightly to him, when he covers my face with his kiss, his lips capturing mine, fusing, melding, exploring—all of my doubts slip away. I focus only on this.

Here.

Now.

My entire world shrinking until nothing else exists.

Nothing other than the crush of his lips, the warmth of his skin, and the swell of tingle and heat that always manages to find me whenever he’s near.

Refusing to think about a future that can never be ours.

Refusing to think about such cruel things as class and position and obligation and the strange game of chance that birth order brings.

Refusing to think about the fact that despite the depth of our love, we can never belong to each other in the way that we want. A truth that was decided long before we had a chance to meet, our futures determined by others, not us.