And then he looked up at Kosika, and flashed her a wicked, toothy grin. An infectious smile that made her smile, too. As if they had a secret—the only secret being that they had lived a life before this one. That they were thieves, had stolen their way into this castle.
“You’ve got a crush.”
Kosika jumped, fingers tensing on the terrace wall. Nasi had come up behind her.
“Are you sure you cannot bend the air?” asked the young queen. “I never hear you coming.”
Nasi shrugged. “It comes in handy, being quiet. The better to watch you swoon.”
Kosika crinkled her nose, even as she felt her cheeks burn. She was not swooning. She looked down, but he was gone again, a blur of motion.
“Don’t be silly,” she said, turning her back to the soldiers. “Lark is like a brother.”
Nasi’s mouth twitched into a smile. “Just as I am like a sister?”
“Exactly.”
The other girl drew closer then, until their fronts were pressed together. She ran teasing fingers down Kosika’s ribs, her waist, still flat and narrow as a child’s. “One day you will want more than the company of siblings.”
Kosika hissed between her teeth, and swatted Nasi’s hand away.
“I just don’t want you to be alone,” said Nasi, and Kosika wished that she could tell her friend she wasn’t.
She was never alone anymore.
Holland stood beside her, as he had all morning, as he had every day for nearly a year. Her constant shadow. Her blessed saint. The hand that guided everything.
* * *
ONE YEAR AGO
After Holland appeared to her in that first dream, she lived for sleep.
Kosika sat through the council meetings, and entertained the parade of citizens who came to ask her favor, and walked the castle grounds, and dined with the Vir, and waited for night, when she could fall into bed and go in search of Holland.
Sometimes she found him in his room.
Other times, she found him sitting on the throne, or in the courtyard, or on the steps.
Some nights they walked the castle, side by side, and some they stood before his own altar, and he told her the stories of his life as Serak had so many times—only he also told her things that Serak hadn’t, details of his life before he came to serve Vortalis.
And if it was strange that a dream could know things that she did not, well then, Kosika assumed it was her own imagination. But every night she dreamt of him, Holland seemed to grow more real. Until one night, as they stood before his altar, she found herself saying, “I wish you were here.”
Holland had been studying the statue. Now he looked down at her, perplexed. “I am.”
“But this is only a dream,” said Kosika.
He surveyed the alcove where they stood. “It may be a dream for you,” he said. “It is something else for me. A shadow world. A waiting place. I was here, long before you found me.”
The words rattled through her, shook loose a vicious hope that he was not merely a figment after all. That he and this were somehow real. That Kosika was in the presence not of a conjuring, but the Someday King. An impossible hope, and yet, what was impossible, in a world where magic rekindled and power passed like a sugar cube between hands, and her eye turned black, and she was queen?
“What are you then?” she asked.
The question elicited the faintest twitch at the edge of his mouth. In all the works of art, in all the statues and sketches and reliefs, Holland Vosijk never smiled. His brows drew together, his mouth always a firm line, his jaw clenched, as if biting back words. Or pain. Even this could hardly be called a smile—it was only the barest curve at the corner of his lips—but she felt bathed in light.
“Do you believe in ghosts?” he asked, and Kosika shook her head. She never had, even when Lark tried to scare her with tales when they were young. She knew that magic came and went, and so did people. Here was here and gone was gone—but what, then, did that make Holland Vosijk?
He seemed to consider the question, though she didn’t ask aloud.
“I know what I was,” he said. “But not what I am. I bound myself to the magic of this world. And so, it seems, I am still here.” He studied his hands. “In a way. I have been here in this place between. And then you found me. The question is…” His gaze flicked back to her. “How did you find me now?”
Kosika said nothing, even as his eyes weighed down on her.
“Your power was mine once,” he ventured. “Perhaps it grows. Or perhaps you have done something…”