Queen of the Magnetland (The Elemental Phases Book 5)

by Cassandra Gannon

  “No, it’s quite alright. I’m getting used to it. It’s just an adjustment.” She’d cleared her throat. “Perhaps, we should talk about something else.”

  “Like what?” Even when Mara was real, they’d rarely had long conversations. She’d never particularly cared what he had to say.

  No one really did.

  His father hadn’t been one for meaningful chats, God knew. After Chason’s mother died giving birth to him, Burke, of the Magnet House had hung on to raise his son. But, he’d never been a man to lavish attention on his only child. The Magnet Phases had followed Chason’s orders, because he’d been their king and it was their duty. The Reprisal had cheered his words, because he offered them an outlet for their hatred. Mara had always been supportive when he told her about his work or his day, because she’d barely been listening when he spoke.

  There had always been… distance between Chason and rest of the world.

  Even with his Match, he’d never quite fit.

  It hadn’t been Mara’s fault that she’d been politely disinterested in pretty much everything about him. All that had been wrong between them was his fault and he knew it. From the day Gaia had Matched them, Mara had done everything right. Everything. In sixty-seven years, he never remembered a single instance when she’d been anything less than accommodating, understanding, and kind.

  How could he complain that she seemed so distant, when she had done everything anyone ever expected and more? How could Chason explain what was missing, when he didn’t even know what it was? How could he have asked for more from someone who was already perfect?

  “So,” the woman had offered after a long moment, “I take it you didn’t… move on, at all?”

  “Move on? To where?” She saw they were in the same dismal kingdom where he’d been born and where Mara had died. Eternally surrounded by grey.

  “No, I mean,” a longer pause, “with anyone?”

  Chason’s eyebrows had soared at the hesitant question. “With another woman?” He’d translated in astonishment. “No.” The idea had been so ridiculous that he’d almost laughed. “No. I would never be with anyone but my Match.” And, just in case she had any half-baked ideas about seducing him into believing she was Mara, he’d met her eyes dead on and rephrased. “I would never be with you. No matter how much beautiful you are and how much I might want you, I only want her.”

  Black eyes had traced over his face for a long moment. “I don’t know why, but that’s sort of insulting.”

  “Because, I’m not fooled by you?”

  “Because, you want another woman more than me. Even if she is a dead version of me.”

  Silence.

  “I wish you were Mara.” Chason had said after a while. “If I had a second chance, I would do so much differently.” The darkness and her quiet presence had brought out words that he’d never spoken to anyone before. It was a rare and beguiling thing to have someone lie beside you and actually listen. He’d suddenly understood the power of it.

  “You would?” She’d sounded surprised. “What would you change?”

  “Everything.”

  “Everything?”

  “Except for finding my Match, my entire life has been a lie.”

  “How can you say that?” She’d sat up slightly. “Chason, you’ve done so much for this world. You’re the most honorable, generous, selfless Phase alive.”

  Chason had snorted at that. “I’ve destroyed everyone and everything around me.”

  “That’s not true.”

  “It is.” He’d said simply. “The kingdom, my reputation, my family’s legacy… And most of all, my Match. All gone. I’d hate for Mara to see me, now. She was so perfect.”

  “I was never perfect, Chason.” She’d sounded frustrated.

  “Mara was. You didn’t know her.”

  “I knew her. I think maybe you didn’t.” She’d let out another long sigh, like she was unwilling to debate her identity, again. “Forget it. Tell me something pleasant.” Her head flopped back down, again. “Just one pleasant thing that’s happened since I’ve been gone. Please. I need to hear it.”

  Chason had considered that for a long moment. Nothing had come to mind. “I killed Parald, of the Air House.” He’d finally reported.

  “You killed someone and you think it’s pleasant?”

  “Yes.” Chason still saw the splatters of blood that covered his clothes and body. The old him would have been haunted by that. The new him just regretted Job had pulled him away before all of Parald was the consistency of a Slurpee. “I hacked him into so many pieces they needed to clean up the mess with a mop.”

  She’d looked mystified. “Why in the world would you bother to do that to such a petty, nasty little troll?”

  “Because he murdered my Match!”

  “But, he was so far beneath you, Chason, and it wouldn’t have brought me back.” Her fingers had hesitantly brushed against his wrist like she was trying to comfort him, but was unsure of her welcome. “If Daphne had gone back and done something before the Fall, killing him might have made a difference, but after I was gone… I would never want you to compromise your principles over me or that insignificant man.”

  “I lost my principles long ago. If I ever had them, at all.” Without even thinking about it, he’d turned his hand giving her better access. Her thumb had trailed along the sensitive flesh of his palm and his jaw tightened against the feel of it. He’d wanted her so badly it was a living ache. “I think that,” he’d cleared his throat, “while I did all the right things. Charities and praying and being kind to fucking animals. I think I just did them, because I was supposed to. I never questioned whether or not I actually believed any of it.”

  “You did those things because you were born for greatness”

  “No.” He’d stared fixedly at her hand touching his. Her finger had skimmed his fate line and it was the most erotic experience of his life. He’d swallowed against the feel of it. “I did them because I was born a prince. There’s nothing great about that, except the amount of bullshit rules and responsibilities that get dumped on you before you’re smart enough to see they’re bullshit. It was just a… façade.”

  “I know what that feels like.” She’d whispered.

  “Obviously.” Who would know better than her what it was to pretend to be someone else?

  “No, I mean, I know what trying to please people at the expense of yourself costs you in the end. We can’t do that anymore, Chason. Either of us.” She’d squeezed his hand, just like she had on that first day back in the rain. “The perfect Mara’s gone, just like the Chason you were trying to be. But, maybe we can be better. Maybe we can just… be.” Her black gaze had met his, glowing with the promise of forever.

  For a heartbeat, Chason was young again and all things were possible.

  He’d blinked hard against the film of moisture in his eyes and shook the feeling away. It wasn’t ‘real.’ “I don’t even know who I am, now.”

  “I don’t know who I am anymore, either. But we could learn. We could start over and,” she’d made a gesture with her free hand, “be more. We could be so much more than we were. I’ve always felt that.”

  So had he.

  “It’s too late.” He’d gotten out. “You’re gone and I’m lost. So, what does it even matter?”

  “It’s not too late, though. We have forever and then some.”

  “Don’t say that!” He’d snapped. “Mara would say that. That’s hers.”

  Her mouth had thinned and he’d felt the same mysterious movement of her energy that he’d felt early. Like she was drawing back from him.

  “I’m sorry.” He’d quickly apologized, not liking her retreat. “My Match would say that to me and it’s important. You can say anything else, but not those words.”

  “That Mara isn’t coming back, Chason. I don’t think she ever even existed.”

  “That’s entirely possible.” He’d agreed seriously. “I told you, no longer see ‘rea
lity.’” And God knew he wasn’t the stablest of men. Maybe he’d imagined Mara. Maybe his entire world was just a dream.

  Maybe “reality” was somewhere he’d never even been.

  She’d sighed again, as if he’d missed the point and she was too tired to argue about it. “Never mind. Just… tell me something else.”

  Chason had shoved aside questions of his sanity and concentrated on watching her hand move. He’d wished he could grab it and guide it straight to his erection. She’d apparently forgotten that they were touching, but he suddenly hadn’t been able to think of anything else. His body had been rock hard and aching for her touch. It was no doubt a disgrace to all his boring ancestors that the last dying branch on their family tree was apparently so ruled by his libido.

  Chason had found he didn’t care.

  “Do you think that I’m still in that human prison?” That had become his newest theory. That she was a dream and he’d wake-up in that plastic jail cell.

  Alone.

  “What?” Her brows had tugged together. “Were you in a prison, too? Good Lord, why?”

  He’d made a face, feeling slightly embarrassed about his criminal career. “Isaacs, of the Air House annoyed me so I threw a car at him. Allegedly.”

  She’d studied him with wide ebony eyes. Her mouth had opened and then closed, again. “Oh Chason…” She’d started giggling. Her hand had come up to cover her mouth as she tried to hold back the sound. “And the humans arrested you?” She’d sounded delightfully scandalized by that idea.

  Something had twisted inside his chest. Something warm and yearning. Mara’s laughter had always been such a special sound. Seeing this woman so amused had charmed had him in ways that he thought were gone forever.

  “You think it’s funny I was locked-up for attempted crushing of an Air Phase?” He’d gotten out in the steadiest voice he could muster.

  She’d bobbed her head, her hand still plastered against her lips. “Yes. I’m sorry. It’s just the idea of you in a human jail…” Her shoulders shook with mirth. “I’m sorry. It’s not funny, at all, I know… But it’s still the only funny thing I’ve heard today.”

  “My father certainly wouldn’t think so.”

  “No, he wouldn’t.” Her eyes still glinted with humor, but she’d schooled her face into a suitably grave expression. “I’m sorry.” She’d tried, again. “Really. It must have been very traumatic for you.”

  “Well, I was blacked out drunk for most of it. I undoubtedly still am, so I don’t see the point in dwelling.” He’d slid his hand over to touch hers, coaxing her fingers back to his palm. Dream or not, the feel of her skin against his had given him more pleasure than anything had in two years. “Have you ever visited the human realm? Mara hadn’t. But if either of you had, you’d understand my lack of desire to reminisce about it.”

  The woman had hesitated. “The human realm?” She’d started to withdraw her hand. “Why would you think I’d go there…?”

  “No.” Chason had seized hold of her, preventing the retreat.

  Her eyes had shot to his face in surprise, her wrist captured in his grasp. Feminine awareness lit her face, like she hadn’t been sure whether or not to try and yank free.

  “Don’t.” His voice was a command and his gaze had burned into hers. The old Chason never would have spoken to Mara that harshly or ever grabbed a lady to try and prolong physical contact between them.

  “Chason?” She’d gently tugged against his grip. “You’re holding me too tight.”

  And that was all it took.

  He’d instantly loosened his grasp and softened his tone. “I’m sorry. I…” He’d floundered for something to say. Anything. “I’ve… just thought of something pleasant to tell you, about the past two years.”

  “You did?” She’d relaxed again and her slight expression of wariness faded. “Thank God. Tell me quickly. I was beginning to think nothing had happened since I’ve been gone, except mold growing on things and people getting tossed in jail.”

  The woman was either a consummate actor or his mind had turned this imaginary Mara into an idiot. His Mara would’ve been smarter. She wouldn’t have believed him so quickly. Not when he was so obviously close to the edge. Anyone would’ve known not to trust him.

  He was insane, for God’s sake.

  “I…” Chason had closed his eyes against a groan as she turned her hand in his and absently rubbed her thumb against his pulse point. Focus. “Job.” It was the first “news” Chason could think of. “He found his Match.”

  “He did?!” That had thrilled her. “That’s wonderful! Who is it? Is it Nia? He’s always favored the Water House.”

  “No, Nia Phazed with his nephew.”

  “Job has a nephew?!”

  “Yeah, Cross. Well, there’s Kingu, too, but he’s Job’s nephew through his Match. Cross is his biological nephew. He’s the last Shadow Phase alive.”

  “There’s only one Shadow Phase left?! Won’t that end the world?”

  “It did.”

  “The world ended?!”

  “Temporarily. Don’t worry. Cross stopped it. And Nia’s pregnant, now, so there could be two Shadow Phases soon.”

  “Nia’s pregnant?!”

  “Unfortunately. Cross isn’t nearly good enough for her. I tell myself it could be worse, though. It could be Ty having the baby.”

  “Ty and Parald Phazed?!”

  “No, I told you I beheaded him. It turns out Parald wasn’t her Match. She Phazed with Gion.”

  “Ty and Gion, of the Air House are a Match?!”

  “Cape wearing bastard is really, really not good enough for her. I should have just killed him that time he was in the Home Depot with the Quintessence.”

  “The Quintessence is real?!”

  “Of course. She’s Job’s Match.”

  “Wow… This is all very, very confusing.” The woman who looked like Mara had shaken her head, looking dazed. “If that’s what the Water House did while I was away, I’m afraid to even ask what the Fire Phases have been up to.”

  Yet, Chason had still spent the next hour telling her everything he could think of about the years she’d supposedly “missed.”

  At least, the parts that had nothing to do with him and the vengeance seeking army he’d raised. He’d found he didn’t want to talk about the Reprisal. He hadn’t been sure how she’d react.

  So, he’d told her about human Matches, and trying to adjust to a world with nearly no people, and how the Banished Phases were back and living in the Cloud Kingdom, and how fucking Gion now had a seat on the Council.

  Chason hadn’t bothered to protest when the woman edged over onto his side of bed. There’d been no real harm in it, after all. His body had stayed on top of the blankets, poised on the far edge of the mattress.

  Undeterred, she’d maneuvered as close to him as possible without being pressed up against his side. Then, she’d settled down to listen like she’d really been interested. He couldn’t have moved any farther without tumbling off the edge and she couldn’t have been any closer to him without actually touching.

  Both of them had pretended not to notice.

  Right around the part of the story where the barriers collapsed, the woman had fallen asleep, her hand still grasping his. Chason had grown quiet, just lying beside her and listening to the silence. For the first time in two years, there was nothing but soothing, perfect stillness in his mind.

  Peace.

  She’d done that for him.

  Chason had gingerly reached over to smooth back the purple streak at her temple, his jaw clenching at the feel of her hair sliding through his fingers. The woman’s energy was different than Mara’s, yet so familiar. It felt like the same pure, beautiful power, except it was… deeper. It felt like he could’ve touched so much more of it. If their powers would just shift a tiny bit, he sensed everything would lock into place and be more.

  Better.

  The thoughts had seemed disloyal somehow.


  Chason had dropped him hand away and forced himself to let go of the woman. Getting out of bed, he’d headed over to investigate the wall calendar. Well, two years before it had been a wall calendar.

  Mara had given it to him as a gift on their final Gaianisha Day together. She’d intended it to be a place for Chason to keep track of his never ending appointments and obligations, since Magnet Phases didn’t do well with electronic organizers. The wall calendar was big, with a built in section made of crisscrossed leather straps for holding papers and business cards. For the first few months after he got it, Chason had used it for his intended purpose.

  But, after the Fall it became a shrine.

  The calendar pages had stopped turning when Mara died and notes now covered every bit of the surface, piled three deep in places.

  His Match had always jotted things down in her little spiral bound book or left reminders about upcoming social obligations on his desk. It was such a Mara thing to do. In the months after her death, he’d become obsessed with collecting every scrap of paper she’d ever touched. At the time he’d received them, he’d barely even noticed what a wonderful, precious gift they were. He’d read them and set them aside, always thinking there would be more.

  He’d been so blind.

  After she died, he’d dedicated himself to tracking down whatever remained of the careless notes and preserving them forever. Word puzzles and shopping lists and scribblings in lost languages and random song lyrics she’d liked. Every single note that survived was now displayed on his wall like the archeological relics of another time.

  Only he suddenly had a new one for the collection.

  The woman who looked like Mara had just handed it to him. As if it wasn’t something akin to a miracle to watch new words created in that familiar notepad. The notepad he’d never been able to find after Mara’s death, but that the woman had located within seconds.

  Chason had examined every curve of every word she wrote against the museum of Mara’s notes and they were identical. He’d known that they would be.