“A dream,” I whispered, because I’d lost track over the years of how often I’d lost myself in his arms, only to be torn awake and find myself in an empty bed.

“Not a dream,” Tristan said, and I lifted my face to gaze into silver eyes, his face exquisite and unchanged.

“Then I’m…?”

He nodded, the hand pressing against the small of my back warm through the silk of my sapphire dress. My body, I noticed, had reverted to a state it had not seen in decades. You are as you imagine yourself to be.

“How?” I asked, casting my gaze around at the lush green of Arcadia, the landscape shifting and changing and full of strange life. “I’m human.” And I knew better than most how much iron ran through my veins.

“A human body cannot pass between worlds,” he said, “but a human soul, it turns out, suffers no such impediments. That’s how my uncle was able to bring you here before, however temporarily.”

“Much can happen in the time between two heartbeats,” I said, repeating what the King of Summer had told me while we stood in the heart of Winter.

“Or when a heart beats no more,” Tristan said. “Our bond was what kept your soul from going… elsewhere, but–” He cleared his throat, looking over my head. “It could be broken, if that’s what you want.”

I stood on my tiptoes and kissed him, drinking in the taste of him even as I banished that foolish thought from his mind. I could’ve kissed him for another lifetime and still not had my fill, but I lowered down onto the soles of my feet. “Is Marc…”

He shook his head, and even though the wound was old, the pain seemed fresh again. “But the twins, Martin, Roland – they’re here and well. I’ll take you to see them.”

I bit the insides of my cheeks, afraid to ask my next question, but knowing that I had to. “How long can I stay?”

A smile curved his cheeks. “Forever.”

My eyes burned and I shook my head slowly, letting the sweetness of that singular word sink into my heart. “Why didn’t you bring me sooner?”

He tucked a curl of hair behind my ear, then cupped my cheek with his palm. “Would you have wanted to miss it?”

Instinctively, I knew what he meant: my life. All the places I’d gone, things I’d seen, people I’d known and loved. A thousand accomplishments, mine and those of my family and friends. My son, growing from a tiny baby into a man of whom I was immensely proud. My life, which should’ve been our life together. “No,” I whispered. “I wouldn’t have wanted to miss a minute of it. And I’m so sorry you had to.”

“I didn’t.” He kissed my lips. “At least, not entirely. There are some advantages of being able to see all.”

My chest ached as I imagined him watching all those long years. The depth of his love and loyalty to me, to our son, to our friends, that he’d not turned away and forgotten. “I wish they knew. Alex… He’ll take my death hard.” And though he was a man grown, it was hard for me to accept leaving him.