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Elain glared at the wall. She couldn’t seem to fathom how it had come to this—being preached about her own choices by not only her youngest sister but also her mate—yet here she was, suffocating under the weight of their opinions. Hurt and fury tangled together, bound by the familiar sting of having her life dictated.
The same story, playing out in yet another endless cycle.
It wasn’t until the silence had finally settled into Rhysand’s office that she realized she’d been dismissed, dismissed from her own life. The tightening of her jaw extended into her standing, mumbling out a perfunctory goodbye before slipping out the door.
Escape. That was all she could think about as she rushed down the stairs. Maybe she’d get an apartment in Velaris. Or another court. Or maybe—her mind reeled, wild with desperation—maybe an entirely different continent.
Her garden. If she could just make it there, she could breathe again. But she stopped short at the base of the stairs.
Lucien stood by the entrance.
Their eyes met, and their mating bond buzzed faintly in her mind. His head dipped but the longing in his gaze was unmistakable. She didn’t need to see it etched across his face. She felt it humming along the bond, slipping into her heart without permission.
Elain could feel her chest tightened. He knew. Of course he knew. He’d known why she was called into Rhysand’s office, known what was discussed. And yet, knowing didn’t make her feel any less trapped.
She didn’t want this. Didn’t want him. Didn’t want the invisible chains of this bond dictating the rest of her immortal life. She’d had so little freedom in her human years, and now, even that was gone.
Lucien’s expression softened as though he’d heard the thought through the bond. Still, he said nothing. Instead, he inclined his head—a small, empty gesture—and walked out the door. No second glance. No words.
Elain exhaled shakily and turned toward the garden, the only place where her thoughts didn’t feel like they were spiraling out of control. She laid down in her nook, tilting her face to the sky. She enjoyed the quiet. It was comforting, and she fell asleep without noticing.
She had left her garden when her eyes opened again.
Rather, she was standing in a huge city with a smoky, chaotic atmosphere. Overhead, a massive glass palace with jagged spires that gleamed like knives.
A quiet but anxious voice called her name. She turned abruptly.
Lucien put out his hand and stood a few steps away. His face was tense with anxiety, and the wind was ruffling his ruby red hair. “The boat to Doranelle leaves soon,” he said, his golden eye glinting in the pale light.
She stared at him. “What…?”
He stepped closer, closing the space between them. His hand brushed hers, warm and steady, as though he could anchor her.
“My heart,” he said softly. “We don’t have much time.”
Her fingers trembled as she slipped her hand into his. He pulled her close, wrapping her in his arms as a chill wind swept through the cobblestoned streets. His warmth pressed against her shivering frame, but it did little to quiet the fear she felt.
“Are you sure?” her voice barely more than a whisper.
His jaw clenched. “They’ll sack Terrasen. We need to go now.”
“Lucien, I’m—” Her voice cracked.
“Do not be afraid, my love,” he said, pressing his forehead against hers. “No matter what happens, I will always be by your side.”
She sniffled, and Lucien tugged her closer to wrap his arms around her as though to shield her from the world. The noise of the city seemed to dim, melting into a distant hum until it was just the two of them—just the bond and the steady, grounding weight of him. His breath brushed her ear as he whispered softly, “I’ll keep you safe.”
It was such a soft, intimate statement that her breathing hitched. She closed her eyes, letting the warmth of his voice settle over her. And when she opened them again, the world had shifted.
It was still Lucien. But not. His hair was woven into intricate braids, the ends tipped in beads of copper. Tattoos curled along the sides of his neck, trailing down to vanish beneath his shirt, and a small silver hoop glinted in his nose. He seemed both entirely foreign and completely familiar, the bond between them thrumming as if to remind her that no matter the form, this was him.
Elain blinked down at herself. Her dress was gone, replaced by a strange garment that clung to her body like a second skin: a pair of pants—stiff yet soft, hugging her legs down to her ankles. They were a stormy blue, faded in places, and patched with tiny frayed holes. Above them, a top bared her midsection, her skin catching the light of some unseen source. And there, nestled in the hollow of her navel, was a tiny jewel.
She touched it absently, still reeling, her voice taking on a coquettish edge to mask her confusion. “It’s not that I don’t trust you,” she said, her eyes meeting Lucien’s. “The drop is just … scary. It’s some Asteri bullshit to keep us in line.”
But Lucien just smiled—sharper, hungrier than she was used to—and closed the space between them, and his lips crashed on hers with a fervor that stole her breath. It wasn’t the soft, tentative affection she was used to. This was raw, consuming. And she met him with equal intensity, her hands tangling in his braids as though this version of him was a male she’d known forever.
When they broke apart, she was breathless, her head spinning. A laugh bubbled out of her, giddy and reckless, and she said, “Okay.” Her heart raced as if it were leaping ahead of her, knowing something she didn’t. “Okay. Whatever happens, as long as I’m with you forever.”
Lucien’s hands framed her face, his thumbs brushing over her cheeks. His voice dropped to a low, steady vow. “I am your anchor,” he said. “No matter what happens, I will always be by your side.”
Her laugh burst into a delighted squeal as if she’d shrugged off every burden that had ever weighed her down. But then—then the ground disappeared beneath her feet. Her stomach plummeted, her breath caught in her throat, and the world began to unspool around her, spinning apart into fragments of color and light.
She was falling.
Falling.
Falling…
Until she landed with a soft thud. The fall ended not on hard ground, but on something worn and familiar. A couch. She blinked, disoriented, her breath catching as she realized she was curled up against Lucien. The room was dim, the only illumination coming from some sort of strange box directly in front of them, flickering with moving images. His hand had been laid lightly on her waist, and somehow she was draped over him, her body nestled comfortably against his.
“Did you fall asleep again?” His voice was a soft murmur, teasing but warm.
“No,” she replied defensively, even as her face heated. “You’re just really warm.”
A pause. Pregnant and heavy, though she couldn’t quite say why. She shifted to look up at him, catching the faintest curve of a smile on his now-human face. He reached for a small, smooth rectangle beside him, pressing a button that made the flickering images vanish into black.
He turned to her, his expression softer now, quieter. “You know that I’ll support you,” he said, the weight of his words pulling her from the haze of sleep.
“I know,” she replied unsurely. “It’s just... restaurants fail all the time. Even the good ones. What if it doesn’t work out?”
Lucien shook his head, brushing her hair back from her face with such tenderness that she stilled. “And what if it does work out? You’ve landed the job of your dreams, Elle. We’ve been saving for this. For you. You can take this chance.”
Her throat tightened as tears welled in her eyes. “Loosh...” The gratitude, the fear, the love—it all swirled together.
“No matter what happens,” he said as though it were a vow, “I will always be by your side.”
Even as the dream threatened to fall apart once more, she was grounded by his familiar words. She leaned forward and kissed him, closing her eyes. For an instant, his warmth tethered her, steadied her.
Because when her eyes opened again, the world had shifted once more.
They were no longer on the couch. No longer in the quiet glow of that strange, cozy room. Now they stood on the deck of a massive ship, the scent of salt and sea spray in the air. Her hair wildly whipped around her face in the wind, and when she looked down, she realized she was in a swashbuckling corset, her belt adorned with a gleaming cutlass.
Lucien stood beside her, his ruby red hair tied back in a loose queue, a few strands escaping to frame the sharp angles of his jaw. His left eye was covered by a worn leather eyepatch, lending a rakish edge to the cocky grin curving his lips. His open collar let a glimpse of his chest show beneath the sun bleached skin. That sight alone was enough to curl her toes.
Her body reacted instinctively, the heat pooling low in her belly as a surge of adrenaline coursed through her veins. She had no idea what was feeding the hum of energy within her except that it needed to find release.
“Ah, well, love,” he drawled, resting his hand on the hilt of his sword. “Ready for our next adventure?”
“Not quite,” she said in a coy invitation.
With a newfound sense of confidence, she leaned back against the ship’s railing. She liked this aspect of herself even though she didn’t recognize it. Intentionally and purposefully, she reached out and let her fingers slide over the front of his trousers, her lips curling into a slow, playful smile.
His single visible eye darkened with interest, his grin sharpening into something wicked. “Oh?” he asked, his tone a mix of challenge and promise.
Her fingers gave him a firm squeeze, and the next moment his lips were on hers, hot and demanding. Her hands slid to the curve of his ass, pulling him closer as he pressed her back against the railing. His lips moved to her neck, suckling and grazing the sensitive skin there until he elicited a moan from her lips.
“Lucien,” she gasped. “I need you.”
“Not yet, love,” he murmured.
She barely had time to process his words before she heard his knees hit the wooden planks beneath them.
Her breath hitched as his hands slid up her thighs, steady and reverent. And then his tongue swept against her, deliberate and skilled, sending waves of pleasure through her that made her body tighten. Her fingers curled around the railing behind her, the rough wood grounding her as her head fell back.
“Lucien,” she gasped, her breaths coming fast and shallow, her body trembling as the pressure inside her coiled tighter and tighter—until it wasn’t.
Her gaze dropped to him, and he looked up at her, his russet eye burning with unwavering intensity—like she was the only thing in his universe.
“Show me what comes next,” she breathed, caught between the moment and the possibilities beyond it.
Lucien rose to his feet, and when his lips met hers, she tasted herself on him. Heat coiled low in her stomach at the intimacy of it, at the way his hands tightened at her waist, tracing slow, deliberate patterns only she could decipher.
When he pulled away, she didn’t understand the flicker of disappointment that followed. Didn’t understand why she had expected— anticipated —more. Why the absence of him inside her felt like something withheld rather than something simply not given.
She needed him.
Impatience flared, sharp and insistent.
“Wherever you want,” he murmured against her lips.
She hummed, her thoughts spinning between destinations and adventures, the endless possibilities stretching before them. Lucien grinned, as though he could read her indecision, as though it delighted him.
His hand brushed a stray strand of hair from her face before he whispered, “No matter what happens, I will always be by your side.”
Before she could reply, the ground beneath her shifted. It gave way like sand pulled out by the tide, and she was falling.
Falling.
Falling.
Falling…
Until she found herself cradled in his arms. He carried her effortlessly, dressed in a sleek tuxedo, while she looked down at herself in a flowing white dress. She blinked as they walked through a crowd of laughing people tossing rice into the air. The grains danced like tiny stars, glittering in the golden light.
“You’re my husband?” she asked with disbelief as an unexpected thrill raced through her.
He smiled down at her, that familiar smile doing its work with her heart skipping a beat. “That way, no matter what happens, I will always be by your side.”
She shut her eyes and leaned in for a chaste kiss, tears of happiness blinding her eyes. And in that moment, the world seemed complete and at peace.
But when she opened her eyes again, everything was different.
And now they faced a peaceful farm shrouded in mist. Beyond their small house, rolling hills stretched on and on, covered in fog that blurred the edges of the world
She glanced down at herself, taking in the simple woolen dress that clung gently to her pregnant belly. Her hands instinctively cradled the bump. She looked up again and nearly burst into laughter.
Lucien was standing by the door of the cottage, his arms crossed, his red hair tied loosely at the nape of his neck. He was wearing a skirt—a plaid pattern of deep red and green that swayed lightly in the breeze. Somehow, it suited him perfectly, as though he belonged here more than anywhere else.
He turned to her and grinned, a flash of white teeth and easy confidence. “Ye shouldn’t be on ye feet,” he said, his tone playfully chiding.
She answered with a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth, “You don’t tell me what to do.”
“Aye,” Lucien said, stepping toward her. His gaze softened with concern. “Ye ken I worry about you. And the bairn.”
She didn’t really comprehend the weight of the words that hung between them. Or perhaps she didn’t want to understand. She felt a quiet, irrational fear stirring in her chest, like if she looked too closely at the moment, it might break apart.
Lucien knelt slightly, his large hand brushing over her rounded stomach with the lightest of touches. The tenderness in the gesture was enough to make her throat tighten.
“I told you,” he murmured as she closed her eyes. “No matter what happens, I will always be by your side, ken.”
When she opened them, he was light itself.
His red hair glinted like sun rays, his skin aglow with an otherworldly brilliance. The golden threads in his robe seemed to shimmer around him like beams of buttery sunshine. She looked down at herself and found she too was transformed. Her body felt timeless, eternal. Her dress was a gown of rich greens and browns, vines and flowers blossoming along its seams. The ground beneath her bare feet pulsed with life.
“Solas,” she whispered as she opened her arms to him. The taste of the name was as ancient as it felt like home, something that always resided in her mouth. “It has been a year, my love. I have missed you immensely.”
His mismatched eyes eased as he drew closer, softly entwined his fingers into her locks. “Cthona,” he murmured, his voice like sunlight warming her skin. “A year too long.”
Their kiss was the same as it had always been—an unbroken promise, a memory of all they had been and all they could be. It consumed her, grounding her and unmooring her all at once.
As they parted, his hands cradled her face, wiping away the tears that trickled down her cheeks with his thumbs. He added in a low voice, “No matter how many years pass. No matter how many lives we endure, I will always be by your side. You are the beginning and the end of me, Cthona. You always have been.”
His words were both heavy and light as they buried deeply into her chest. She closed her eyes and pressed her forehead to his, relishing the instant, the assurance, and the eternity in his arms.
She opened them again, and the world flickered as her eyes met his. The golden glow fractured into shards of color and light, spinning faster and faster as though the universe itself were turning pages too quickly for her to keep up.
She watched as the flickering slowed, revealing hundreds—no, thousands—of versions of him. Lucien, over and over, in lives she hadn’t lived but somehow knew by heart.
Lucien the knight in shining armor, with a billowing red cape as he knelt before her, sword in hand and devotion etched on every plane of his face.
Lucien the scholar: ink-stained fingers trailing across the pages of a worn leather-bound book, looking up at her in quiet wonder.
Lucien the musician, sat cross-legged with a lute balanced on his knee; deft hands coaxed a melody that seemed meant only for her.
Lucien, waiting for her at a café, his hand around a steaming cup, his eyes locking to hers with a tentative, heart-stopping smile.
Lucien, his calloused hands wiping the sweat from his brow, his golden eye glinting as he shared a small, secret grin just for her.
Lucien in finery fit for a king, his crown tilted slightly askew as though he’d just removed it for her.
Each version of him looked at her the same way—with devotion that burned through time itself. With longing that reached across lifetimes.
Her heart beat furiously at the kaleidoscope of him. She could feel it in every thread of her being: no matter where, no matter when, he was hers.
The images blurred together, their faces melting into one until there was only him. Only Lucien.
And in every life, every version, his voice rang out a promise she could never forget.
“I am glad that I am in a life where I am yours.”
Her breath hitched, and just as she reached for him, the world went pitch black.
Then, slowly, the light returned.
She was standing in a bustling market, surrounded by the scents of autumn—crisp leaves, spiced cider, and freshly baked bread. Fae farmers called out their wares, laughter and conversation filling the air in this market. The colors of the Autumn Court blazed around her, vivid and warm, but her heart froze as her gaze landed on him.
Lucien.
He stood by a stall, leaning close to a female with delicate butterfly wings that shimmered in the sunlight. Perched on his shoulders was a little girl with the same ruby red hair, her chubby hands gripping his hair for balance. A boy stood on the other side of the female, holding her hand as she pointed at something on the stall.
Lucien’s expression softened as he listened to her. His voice was low and full of care, full of love. Elain couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe. She wanted to blink, to squeeze her eyes shut and will herself into the next dream—but nothing happened.
This wasn’t a dream.
Her feet carried her toward him before she could decide whether it was the right thing to do. Every step felt like threading molasses. She stopped beside him, and time seemed to stretch unbearably as Lucien turned toward her.
His hands slackened at his sides, his face draining of color. “You’re my mate,” he said hoarsely, his voice barely above a whisper.
“What did you say?” the female beside him asked, her delicate face wrinkling in confusion.
Elain blinked rapidly, trying to keep her tears at bay, but the words rang in her head like a bell she couldn’t unhear. She hadn’t thought—hadn’t considered—that there might be lives where he wasn’t… hers.
She turned to run, unable to face it. The market faded, turning into a forest and she collided with him. His arms closed around her, and her lips found his with desperate eagerness, as though she’d been starving for him.
“Elain,” his voice was strained, raw with anguish. “You and I can’t be—”
“But we are mates,” she sobbed, clawing at him, her fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as though holding on could stop the world from tearing them apart.
“In another life, Elain,” he said, his voice breaking under the weight of the words. His russet eye shimmered with unshed tears, his hands trembling where they cupped her face. “You are my mate. You are everything. But they’ll kill her if I leave… if I leave them .”
The words slammed into her, hollowing her out.
This was cruelty. This was torture. If Elain was shown worlds where she and Lucien lived and loved, then now, she was forced to endure those where Jesminda lived—and Lucien wasn’t… couldn’t… was forced not to be hers
Not if he didn’t want Jesminda to be killed. Not if he didn’t want them to be killed. Not if he didn’t want to break apart the family he had made, the home he had built—the home that shattered the moment his face paled and his voice, broken and haunted, whispered that he had been wrong about his mate.
Stolen moments that rarely saw the light of day.
And it always ended the same way before she was dragged into the next scene.
She shook her head violently, the word slipping from her lips like a plea. “No… no…”
As though anchoring himself to her one final time, he leaned in, pressing his forehead against hers. His breath trembled as he whispered, barely more than a rasp, “No matter what, I will always be by your side, even when I cannot.”
Tears spilled freely down her cheeks. She gripped his arms, her fingers digging in, desperate to keep him close. Desperate to change the ending.
But before she could reply—
The world yanked her away.
Escape. That was all she could think about as she rushed down the stairs. Maybe she’d get an apartment in Velaris. Or another court. Or maybe—her mind reeled, wild with desperation—maybe an entirely different continent.
Her garden. If she could just make it there, she could breathe again. But she stopped short at the base of the stairs.
Lucien stood by the entrance.
Their eyes met, and their mating bond buzzed faintly in her mind. His head dipped but the longing in his gaze was unmistakable. She didn’t need to see it etched across his face. She felt it humming along the bond, slipping into her heart without permission.
Elain could feel her chest tightened. He knew. Of course he knew. He’d known why she was called into Rhysand’s office, known what was discussed. And yet, knowing didn’t make her feel any less trapped.
She didn’t want this. Didn’t want him. Didn’t want the invisible chains of this bond dictating the rest of her immortal life. She’d had so little freedom in her human years, and now, even that was gone.
No.
“So you made a decision,” Lucien said quietly.
This didn’t happen.
“I did,” Elain said, her voice tight as she avoided his gaze.
This didn’t happen.
This didn’t happen.
This didn’t happen.
Lucien looked down at the floor and nodded slowly.
THIS DIDN’T HAPPEN.
Time stretched unbearably, each second sinking heavier into her chest. Her stomach churned with dread, her body frozen as though trapped in amber. She wanted to stop it, to speak, to reach for him—but the words stuck in her throat, strangled by fear.
Lucien looked up at her one last time, his russet eye filled with something she couldn’t name—something that both softened and broke her. A bittersweet smile curved his lips, fragile and fleeting, like a memory already slipping away.
“Perhaps in another life, lady,” he murmured, his voice low and aching, “I would have loved to be yours.”
He turned and walked away.
The door closed behind him with an unbearable finality, the soft click echoing in her mind like a thunderclap. It shattered something deep inside her, something fragile and vital, leaving her hollow.
He didn’t… he didn’t say it.
The thought spiraled, tearing through her. He didn’t say the words. The words she needed. The words that had anchored her through lifetimes and dreams.
Her breath hitched, sharp and ragged, as if the very air had turned heavy and toxic, pressing down on her chest. The ache swelled, unbearable, until it broke free.
The scream tore from her throat—raw, feral, endless.
She screamed.
She screamed.
She screamed until her lungs gave out, until the sound tore through her and left her shaking. Then, as if pulled from deep water, she jolted upright in bed, gasping for air.
Her breaths came wild and jagged, her chest heaving.
The room was dark, the edges blurred, her mind still clinging to the shattered fragments of unfinished dreams. The sheets beneath her were damp with sweat, tangled around her legs as if they, too, had tried to hold her in the nightmare.
“Lady?”
His voice cut through the haze, soft and hesitant, a lifeline pulling her back into the present.
Her head snapped toward him. Lucien was seated in a chair beside her bed, his posture rigid as his knuckles turned white from gripping his knees. His red hair was untied, a few unruly strands framing his face as lines of the worry etched into his features.
“Lucien,” she croaked. “What happened?”
“That’s what we’re trying to figure out,” he said soothingly, his russet scarred gaze steady on hers. But there was something beneath the calm surface of his voice—something taut, uneasy, as if he were afraid of the answer.
She pressed her palm against her forehead, trying to focus, trying to make sense of the images that still swirled in her mind. The pirate ship. The chapel. The endless lives. His words. Perhaps in another life...
A sob broke free before she could stop it, raw and wrenching. The ache of the last dream lingered like a phantom, overshadowing the fleeting joy of the happier ones.
The idea he wasn’t hers. The idea he couldn’t be. The idea he … didn’t want to be.
Lucien moved quickly, pouring her a glass of water from the pitcher on the bedside table. She accepted it with shaking hands, chugging it down until her parched throat eased. When the glass was empty, she set it aside and sank back into the pillows, her chest still tight with grief she couldn’t fully name.
She could feel his gaze on her, the quiet weight of it. She turned her head toward him and saw it—etched in every line of his face, in the tension of his shoulders, in the shadows that darkened his expression. Worry.
“What happened?” she asked again, her voice stronger now but still unsteady.
Lucien shook his head slowly, exhaling through his nose. “I couldn’t feel you,” he admitted, his voice low, as though saying it aloud might make it worse. “It was like you were taken from me. I went to your alcove to check on you, and you were dreaming—restlessly, violently. There was something about it…” He trailed off, his jaw tightening as he struggled for words. “It didn’t feel right. So I carried you up here.”
Her throat tightened at the image of him finding her, of his concern pulling her from whatever darkness had held her captive. “Did Rhys…”
Lucien shook his head before she could finish. “I thought he’d be the last person you wanted to see.”
They sat in silence, the air between them heavy with unspoken truths. Elain turned her gaze to the ceiling, her tears slipping down her temples as she reoriented herself. But the one constant, the only constant, was him. Lucien. His love had followed her through every version of existence.
“You came for me,” she said quietly. “Even when you knew…”
She didn’t know how to finish her sentence. Didn’t know how to properly express the enormity of what she felt, the gratitude tangled with sorrow. But Lucien didn’t hesitate.
“I would have,” he said softly, his voice steady, unwavering. “Because no matter what happens, I will always be by your side.”
This quiet conviction in his voice was the final pull of threads, and she came utterly undone. A sob tore from her chest as she sagged, burying her face in her shaking hands, her grief and the relief of being found when still so lost, breaking her completely raw and open.
And then… warmth. From their bond.
She turned toward him, and a shared understanding passed between them—silent, familiar. Like then. Like in a thousand lives before. Like now.
Wordlessly, he stood from the chair. It was the first time in this world, but hundreds of times before, that he kicked off his shoes and slipped beneath the covers. She shifted without thinking, making space for him. Always on the same side. Always with the same arm tucked beneath her.
But for the first time in this universe, she turned into him. Pressed her forehead to his chest as his hand found her back, tracing slow, steady circles.
She exhaled, feeling the tension leave her body, but when she looked up at him, she caught it—the flicker of confusion in his gaze. As if he had never done this before, yet somehow knew exactly how to.
“Was it a bad dream?” he asked softly.
“It could have been.”
His fingers stilled for just a breath. “Is there something I can do to make it better?”
She couldn’t help but smile, just a little. “Maybe if you were to get a tricorne hat.”
Silence. Then a chuckle—low, warm. She looked up at him again, finding the amusement lingering in his mismatched eyes.
“Promise?” she whispered.
His smile softened. “Promise.”
A promise.
A promise that even in the darkest dreams, even when the world tried to tear them apart, he would always find her.