I just stared, my body locked in shock. My chest tightened so hard I couldn’t breathe. I gasped for air yet none came. I pressed my hands to my chest. The world started to spin.

That’s me. That is me. This is me. How is this ME? But it’s me. That’s my face. I dove forward and pushed her eyelids up to reveal pretty pink eyes. Those are my eyes. I pressed my hands to her chest and pushed my magic into her, pink flames danced along her skin revealing black lines of a soulmate mark that was identical to the one on my body. But to check, I pushed my magic into my own chest until my soulmate mark revealed itself. Then I held my hand out to hers and a strangled cry left my lips. No, no, no. This is me. It’s me.

Something gripped my arms and lifted me off my knees.

“NO! It’s me! It’s ME! It’s⁠—”

“Who are you?” Everest growled from behind me. My body was spun around to face him. “WHO⁠—”

“—Me,” I whispered.

He choked on a gasp and leapt backwards, dropping me instantly. His blue and white eyes were so wide I saw the entire circle of his irises. His face turned ashy pale. His jaw hit the ground. He pressed his hand to his chest like he was struggling to breathe.

“It’s me,” I whispered. “It’s me, Everest.”

“No. No, you’re dead,” he screamed, his cheeks flushed pink. Tears brimming on his dark eyelashes as he pointed to his wife’s dead body behind me. To me. His upper lip snarled, revealing an extending fang. “Celina is dead. Who are you and how dare you⁠—”

“Celina?” I frowned. “Her name—-my name—-was Celina?”

“You are not Celina,” he shouted and grabbed my arm, shaking me a little. “Show thy face. NOW.”

Celina. Her name was Celina. MY name was Celina. Oh my God. I swayed on my feet, but his grip kept me in place. There was an inferno of heartbroken rage slamming into me from my soulmate, but I wasn’t registering it.

Because suddenly, instantly . . . everything made sense.

It all just clicked.

Every interaction I’d ever had with Everest from the moment he swooped in to save me from the frat house to a few minutes ago when he shoved me into the Seelie tunnel. A slideshow of memories replayed in rapid fire in my mind. Every touch. Every expression. Every spoken word. Every longing stare. Every heavy beat of silence.

I was his wife.

I was the mother of his daughter.