Page 127 of Find My Way Down to You

Milos grins. “This is about us, not him.”

“Us?” I rasp out.

Milos angles himself until Cary is blocked from my view. “My offer still stands. Think about it: You can finally have whatyouwant.”

London’s name almost spills from my parted lips.

“I know about loneliness, August.” Milos rests his hand on my chest. “Being left in a world without a choice. Everyone around you doing as they desire while you are”—his eyes soften—“stuck. Waiting.”

That’s exactly what it’s like living with grief. Loneliness, even while you’re surrounded by people. Forced to watch them carry on. Death doesn’t stop the world from spinning. But it freezes you in that same singular moment, day after day.

All you can do is wait. For the wave to pass. For the ache to dull. For things to feel normal. Then it starts all over again.

“We can have what we want,” Milos whispers.

I look down at his hand still on my sternum. “And how do you get what you want?”

His smile briefly slips. He recovers.

“Through you. Descendant of the Deathless of life. The first Deathless to exist among mortals, permanently. We thought her power lost. Then you showed up.” His fingers skim delicately up my chest. Like I’m a treasure he fears losing again. “When you commit to me, I can leave too. Only temporarily, but it is…something.”

I consider his words. My heart kicks anxiously. “What about my parents? Will I be stuck here?”

“No, no. You come and go too. Webothcan.” Milos gestures toward Cary. “Because of his decision, I have been trapped here. Just like you have been trapped.”

Past his shoulder, I can see Cary watching me. A hawk eyeing the rabbit.

In a soft, genuine tone, Milos adds, “You are powerful, August.Weare. Together.”

Powerful.

It’s a word I’ve never associated with myself. Someone has always protected me. My mom and dad, since I was born. Max, in high school and after. London, with all his plans.

Cary, from a world that isn’t mine. But maybe it is.

This is my chance to finally protect myself. To have what Fate or destiny stole from me. To be free of grief and guilt’s crushing weight.

“Do not do this.”

Cary’s voice cuts through my thoughts. I glare at him. “Why not?”

“He is not telling you everything,” he answers. “You will lose more than you think.”

An acidic laugh bubbles up my chest. I repeat the question I asked him in my apartment: “What do you know about loss, Cary?”

“Not enough before.” His expression turns somber. “Too much now.”

It’s hard to escape the honesty, the care in those black eyes. But I do. “Can I have some time to think about this?” I ask Milos.

For a long moment, he stares at me. Then he nods.

“Anything for you, August.”

With an easy flick of his wrist, a thick cloud of smoke hovers between us. It solidifies into an elegant hourglass. His index finger twirls. The hourglass flips over. Grains of pink sand pour steadily from one end into the other.

Milos smiles darkly. “Until the sand runs out.”

It’s not Henri or Cary who escorts me away from the throne room.