Page 53 of The Mage and His Stolen Prince
“This isn’t about gender, it’s about—” I snapped my mouth shut. Why was I talking to them about this anyway? Once they learned who I was—what I’d done to their daughter, before our tentative truce—they would skewer me with a sword. Or bash my head in with a vase.
Kit waited patiently. They didn’t try to egg me or on or tell me that it was getting late. They simply sipped their water while I decided how much I wanted to say.
Sitting at a counter, glass in my hand, a stranger willing to listen, reminded me of the tavern Melvin the Magnificent used to perform in. People spilled all kinds of secrets when they were drunk and desperate. I’d never been drunk before, but I was certainly desperate. “Have you ever wanted something so bad every part of you ached? But any time you reached for it, it seemed farther and farther away?”
Kit arched a brow and said carefully, “I think so.”
“Did you ever catch it?”
A soft smile touched their lips as they confessed, “I did.”
From their expression, they were happy with the results, which meant they couldn’t really understand where I was coming from. “What if you only caught part of it?”
“I don’t understand.”
For thirteen years, I’d strived to earn a title as an evil mage. I learned magic on my own and through various experts. I found the master I’d been dreaming of since our first meeting, thinking he could fulfill my needs. And now I’d stolen his title, his lair, and his minions. The only thing I didn’t have was his son. “When I tried to catch it, it ripped in my hands, splitting into two distinct parts. I could only keep hold of one while the other slipped through my fingers, but that was the part I valued most. Every time I chase after it, something goes wrong, gets in my way, slows me down. Before I know it, I’ve lost it again.” I looked up at Kit, hoping they only saw enough of the metaphor to answer my question and not so much to understand what it really meant. “What do I do if I can’t catch it?”
Kit stared at me for a long moment, then huffed out a breath. “Fuck, Wilde, that’s a tough one. Where did Delilahfindyou?”
I pushed up from the stool. “Never mind, that was a stupid question.”
“If you can’t catch it, you have two options.”
I paused, waiting for them to continue.
“You let it go.”
That meant abandoning all my plans and schemes. Dissolving the pocket dimension. Allowing time to flow normally, uninterrupted, no resets or takebacks. I’d solved the biggest problem—Treasure was healed, he was in no danger of dying. But if I let things take their course now … in a timeline where he didn’t know me, and nothing connected us. I’d lose him. And I was too selfish to give him up. “Or?”
“Or you get better at running.” Kit clapped a hand on my shoulder and said, “You know how you do that? Sleep and eat and takecareof yourself. And no more teleporting when you can walk!” They grasped my other shoulder and turned me around, marching me straight to the bedroom. “Go to bed, Wilde.”
“You wanted me to tell you about the meeting,” I protested.
“You can tell me in the morning.” They practically pushed me into my room, then closed the door behind them, leaving me in the comforting dark.
I was so used to following the master’s orders that I’d crawled into bed and pulled the covers over me before I realized what I’d done. I thought of Trey’s constant disobedience, both annoying and endearing, and started to push myself back up. I only got halfway before the weight of exhaustion pushed me back into the mattress. My eyes drifted shut, and I fell asleep with Kit’s advice still echoing in my head.
Interruption Four
Present Day
Outside an Unregulated Pocket Dimension
About to Embark on a Quest
“This is ridiculous,” the man muttered. He wasn’t allowed to use his title anymore, but he refused to use the name theyassignedhim.
“Hold still,” the queen ordered, and he obeyed. Then Queen Francesca of Woe returned to the important work of painting his face.
The moment she finished with one product, he began speaking again, “I do not need—what even is this?” He snatched up a pot of black powder and waved it in her face. “Whatever this is!”
“Kohl,” she replied. “It’s for your eyes.”
Lucinda peeked over the queen’s shoulders and giggled at the results.
The man scowled at her.
“Oh, that’s a perfect expression!” she exclaimed, clapping her hands together in approval. “Keep it on for as long as possible.”
