He takes a deep breath, takes several deep breaths, then he turns, his dark eyes going impossibly wide when he sees me—sees how I’m dressed.

“You’re a vision,” he says, his voice edged with wonder. “You’re just like the painting. Enchantment. Isn’t that what we called it?”

But while his eyes are busy roaming me, mine are fixed on what he holds in his hand.

The thing he’d kept hidden when he was facing the windowsill now plainly in view.

The sight of it reminding me of Roman’s last night, when he sat before me on his rumpled bed—a gleaming glass vial filled with sparkling green liquid pinched between his finger and thumb.

Much like Damen stands now.

He catches me looking, grips the glass tighter, causing the green liquid to splash up the sides, swishing just shy of the lip.

And I know that all we have to do to be together in the way that we want is to drink it.

Just one small sip from each of us is all it’ll take.

One small sip and all of our problems disappear.

Only that’s what I used to think. Now I know that it’s no longer true.

While the antidote may be a sure thing, the bigger solution, the real solution, offers no guarantee. It requires a leap of faith—a pretty big leap for sure—but still one I’m willing to take.

Though from what I can see, with the way Damen lifts the vial before him, I’m clearly the only one feeling that way.

Still, I can’t help but be transfixed by the sight of it. Transfixed by the realization that I’m ready to turn my back on the one thing I sought for so long.

I lift my hands before me, the lotus blossom cupped between my palms as I say, “I saw Lotus—just before she crossed over. She wanted you to have this.” My eyes meet his, noting how he’s absorbed by the sight of me, as the antidote continues to swirl in his grip.

And while he doesn’t reach for the flower, he does manage to say, “I always figured it was the stuff of myth. I had no idea it really exists.”

I edge closer to him, edge past an ancient marble-topped table covered with stacks of very impressive, first-edition signed books that would easily fetch hundreds of thousands of dollars at auction.

“The actual Tree of Life!” He flicks his gaze between me, the lotus blossom, and the antidote he holds in his hand, softly shaking his head when he says, “It’s amazing to me that you not only found it, but that you brought back enough fruit for all of our kind. While I can’t bring myself to taste it, I’m impressed and amazed that you managed to do such a thing.”

Despite the warmth in his eyes, all I can hear is: I can’t bring myself to taste it.

The words resonating in a way that robs me of breath, makes my knees threaten to crumple.

We gaze at each other, the silence gathering, building between us. And if I could, I’d encourage the moment to stretch and grow and linger forever, but I know it must end. Everything does. I also know what needs to be said, so it may as well come from me.

“So, I guess this is it then?” I try not to sound as broken as I feel but don’t come close to succeeding.

He looks at me, his expression standing in for any words he might say, so I heave a deep sigh, curl my fingers around the lotus blossom, and start to haul myself out of his room, out of his life.

We’ve reached the crossroads.

The juncture.

There is no turning back.

This is where we go our separate ways.

Aware of the almost feel of his hand on my arm when he pulls me back to him and says, “Yes.”

I look at him, unsure what he’s saying yes to.

“The questions you asked earlier, about wanting to settle down, start a family, see my family? Yes. Yes to all of it.”

I try to swallow but can’t, try to speak but the words just won’t come.

His hands sliding around me, grasping me to him, he lets go of the vial, allows it to fall, to crash to the ground. The sparkling green liquid seeping out all around as he says, “But mostly yes to you.”

Chapter forty-three

Even though he’s agreed to do it, he still hesitates.

His hand shaking, his gaze so full of trouble and worry it prompts me to say, “Look at me.”

He takes a deep breath, but does as I ask.

“Let this be the proof.”

He cocks his head, not quite understanding.

“Let this costume be the proof of how I’ll always come back to you. No matter what happens, we’ll always be together, always find a way to locate each other. Whether I’m Adelina, Evaline, Abigail, Chloe, Fleur, Emala, Ever, or, eventually, someone else entirely.” I smile. “No matter which guise my soul decides to wear, I will always return to you. Just like I always have returned to you.”

He nods, holds my gaze, lifting the cup to his lips as I do the same.

Surprised to learn it’s not at all sweet like I thought, but still, I hardly notice its bitterness—the way it doesn’t sit so well on the tongue. I just urge the fruit down. Encourage it to flow through my system as though it’s the sweetest ambrosia any God could create, while Damen does the same.

And when I see the way the room sparkles and glows, when I see the way the furniture vibrates and all the paintings come to life—I understand exactly what made Misa, Marco, and Rafe whoop and holler and carry on like they did.

Everything is alive.

Everything is bursting with color, throbbing with energy, and it’s all connected to us.

We are part of each other, part of everything that surrounds us.