Page 140 of Song of the Heart Scale
Angie laughed quietly and ran a hand through her hair. “You’ve been... kind of unforgettable.”
Something thick settled in my throat. I looked at her—reallylooked at her—and for a second, I wanted to say something else. Something final. Something that could possibly make this achefeel less like a wound and more like a ribbon tying us together across impossible realms.
But I didn’t.
Instead, I reached forward and pressed a kiss to her cheek. Not rushed. Not polite. Just... honest.
“Tell Monica I’m still not doing that stunt job.”
She sniffled. “I’ll tell her you were tragically abducted by an interdimensional portal.”
I gave a short, breathy laugh.
“Arya?” she said.
I turned to face her.
“Be safe.”
“I always am.”
I wasn’t. But I wanted her to think so.
I stepped into the lake with the vial clutched in my hand. When the water was waist high, I quickly downed it before I could change my mind.
In the depths of the water, the portal shimmered to life, golden and pulsing. Like a heartbeat. A door opening. A final breath.
I looked back one last time. “Don’t forget me.”
Angie didn’t say anything. She just stared, her eyes wide and shining, her lips parted like she wanted to call me back.
But she didn’t.
She nodded. Once.
And that was enough.
With my chin high and heart pounding, I walked into the light.
I didn’t look back.
But I knew she did.
28
ARYA
Returning to Elaria was not the triumph I once imagined it would be. There was no grand parade, no fanfare of trumpets or ringing of bells. Of course not. No one knew I had even left. Only a damp chill, the smell of scorched magic lingering in the air, and the distinct, crushing realization that time here had moved on without me.
After dragging myself out of River Elara, I found a carriage waiting for me, thanks to Cat thinking ahead. Inside, there was a bundle of clean clothes to change into.
“Where to, my lady?” the driver asked.
Cat had told me to go to the palace so Royal Prince Bai could offer protection and get me caught up on the war that had just happened. But no. I wanted to see my father first.
Lord Zacharia, Minister of Rites. A man who I once believed held some measure of affection for me beneath his lacquered exterior of duty and tradition. How naive. The scars and bruises Cat had hidden beneath layers of silk were no mere invention. He had flogged her. Publicly, I might add, as punishment for what he believed to be my rebellious, disgraceful behavior.
Except it wasn’t me.
