But when all three of us had been reunited, I’d immediately realized the king’s plan hadn’t worked at all.
I was no longer codependent with one person.
I was codependent with two.
It was like the oracle had prophesied that fateful day in the cave.
Her eyes rolled back in her head, and she spread her arms wide, the prophecy exploding from her lips. “The master number surrounds the lost princes. The strongest of them all; two will become three. Multiples of three are golden, you see. The broken soul leads them down a twisted path of darkness, but they will remain the three of three. Eternally.”
I didn’t need to smoke the blessed fumes at Delphi to confirm that Aran was the third from the prophecy.
I knew it in my soul.
Now, beside me in the cafeteria, Aran leaned her head on her hands and stared off into space as I cut up fruit into bite-sized pieces and gave them to my twin.
John didn’t have to ask what they were for, because we were on the same wavelength; the Greek letter lambda was tattooed on my back for a reason.
He hand-fed her bites of food.
Together we took care of her.
Across the table, the devils said something, but I didn’t register their words; my attention was wholly focused on Aran.
My skin crawled with the need to feed her.
For the entirety of my life, when my twin suffered, I suffered.
Now when Aran suffered, I suffered.
It was how I operated.
After the cave, the king was unhappy with the oracle’s prophecy. He raged to the other kings and queens about how unfair it was because we’d already known darkness. The kings and queens shook their heads as they muttered about the poor Princes of Darkness.
We nodded back sullenly.
That night John and I giggled with excitement in our shared bed because we knew what three meant. It wouldn’t just be the two of us for our entire lives. We’d find someone else to love.
John caught my eye as Aran delicately ate the fruit he handed her, and he smirked.
Leaning over the table, I put my arm around his shoulders and tangled my fingers in curly turquoise hair as I made sure they both ate.
My stomach grumbled, but I didn’t care.
I pushed more food onto John’s plate, and he smiled.
His dimples were my home.
We clasped our hands together under the covers, and John’s dimples were stark on his cheeks as he laughed. I rolled onto my back and clutched my stomach as I joined him.
I watched Aran and John eat with rapt attention. The two of them would never be parted from me—if they were, I’d be dead.
The next day at breakfast, the king ranted to the two others about how the oracle was a fraud. He went on and on about how we deserved light in our future. The queen smirked down at us from her silver throne covered in violets as intelligence sparkled in her majestic eyes.
I smirked back.
John winked up at the queen and held up his fingers. She tipped her head back and laughed.
“Three of three. Eternally,” he whispered to the queen as he covered his smile with his small hand.
The queen laughed because she saw what the king couldn’t, and she beamed down and said, “Lucky boys.”
We nodded in agreement.
The queen was one of the foremost scholars of enchantments in the realms because she could often see what others couldn’t. This time was no exception.
Under the table, John smirked as he poked his three fingers gently against my thigh, and warmth flooded my chest at his gesture.
After the meal, with John’s hand wrapped around Aran’s, I carried her down the tree-lined path toward our legion’s sleeping quarters. The shifter legion branched off toward their barracks. The kings walked behind me, bristling with agitation and growling under their breath.
I barely noticed as I clutched my treasure.
Aran mumbled about lost books and palaces as she cuddled into me while holding my twin’s hand.
Snowflakes dusted turquoise curls as I shielded her from the chilly air with my chest.
The position was familiar.
Back at Elite Academy, she’d clutched onto my arm for hours in the black sea, hanging off my shoulders as she quivered from exhaustion. Her arms had tightened around my neck as I’d hauled her across the rocky shore to safety, and we’d fallen asleep cuddled together on a broken cot.
In the present, snow kissed her rosy cheeks. Frost clung to her cheekbones like decoration.
Her breaths came out in dainty puffs of ice, and I stared, enraptured by the graceful column of her pale neck and the slight ripple of her pulse.
She looked like a dream.
Her existence provided me with a shelter from the world, and just like my twin, she was home.