A Million Worlds with You
Page 63

Theo and I glance at each other. How exactly do we deal with Wicked? If we just left her in Victoire forever, would Wicked remain trapped as she is now? Or might she grow stronger over time, work her way out? Even if she didn’t, it’s hard to imagine a soul that damaged, that poisonous not corroding the person who contained it.
And if my parents in the Home Office are willing to destroy entire dimensions to get one of their daughters back, is there anything they wouldn’t do to rescue the only child they have left?
The front door opens, startling us all. Cambridgeverse whispers, “Wait, there’s another one?”
But the footsteps are too heavy to be mine. The familiar sound brings a smile to my face even before Paul walks in.
His hair is slightly longer here, and at the moment it’s mussed—air-dried and textured with salt water. A faint stripe of sunburn covers his nose, and over his shoulder is a backpack no doubt full of equipment. He’s still wearing a long-sleeved black swim shirt and matching trunks.
But it’s not the differences that strike me the most. It’s the Firebird hanging around his neck.
It’s my Paul, finally with me again.
The reaction ripples around the table, each one of us wearing a different expression, from loving to terrified and everything in between.
But it’s the grand duchess I can’t bear to witness. She grips the arms of her chair, and her lips are parted in awe. Her love for Lieutenant Markov defined and changed her life, and then she lost him forever.
Or she had until this moment, when—for her—Paul has returned from the dead.
Paul, meanwhile, must have gotten texts from Theo and my parents telling him to get here as quickly as he could, and Theo sent a couple of messages explaining the clone thing. But knowing the facts doesn’t appear to have prepared Paul for the reality. He stops in the doorway, staring at each of us in turn, his jaw slowly dropping open.
“I know, little brother,” Theo says with a wry grin, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. “I had this dream too.”
“You’re from the Oceanverse.” Paul points to the correct Marguerite, which surprises me. “And you’re from Cambridge—from the War—” His gray eyes light on me, and he draws in a deep breath. “—and you’re mine.”
I nod yes. Always, Paul.
But now his attention has turned to the grand duchess, who still gazes at him, transfixed. After a moment, Paul bows slightly. “My lady.”
The grand duchess half-turns, covering her mouth with her hand.
Tears well in my eyes. Paul knew her by sight. Knew all of us. Knew me.
Could anyone else in the multiverse read my entire history in a glance? Paul sees through to the truth of me. He always has.
Paul finally says, “I assume this isn’t merely a social occasion.”
“Got it in one, pal.” Theo thumps him on one shoulder. “Let me catch you up on the conclave of the Marguerites.”
As Theo goes through the entire spiel, I sit back down and try to read Paul as intelligently as he read me. I’m good at this, usually—so how can I love Paul so much and yet find it so difficult to understand the conflict within his heart?
But then, Paul tries to hide what he feels. His parents’ cruelty must have taught him long ago to be cautious. Closed-off. Even afraid. They tried to keep him from everything he loved, which is how you teach a person to bury love deep inside where nobody else can see. It’s how you teach someone not to hope.
“Now that we’re all up to speed,” Theo finally says, drawing the rest of us back into the conversation, “who wants to go home first?”
Mafiaverse raises her hand. No wonder she never wants to be near Paul—or the rest of us—ever again. Cambridgeverse says, “Everyone needs to know the Triadverse is no longer a threat. With Wyatt Conley dead, there’s one fewer perfect traveler, too. The sooner I get back, the sooner we can reach out to the new universes, since my parents have communication technology.”
“So do mine,” says Warverse. Everyone’s eager to get back to their own dimension right away, except for the grand duchess. Without saying a word, she sits in regal self-possession, so still I could almost believe I was looking at a photograph—until the moment her hand brushes across her abdomen, as if searching for the child who should be inside.
Paul’s child. What must it be like for her to see him again?
As my parents begin working out who’s going where with whom, Paul finally comes to my side. He stands near enough that I no longer feel he’s avoiding me, and his broad hand closes over my shoulder. “You’re all right,” he says. “When we realized a universe had fallen . . .”
“I’m okay. You rescued me.” I smile crookedly up at him. “One of you, anyway.”
“We need to focus. I’ve calculated a likely future target for the Home Office.” Paul is trying to switch fully into Science Mode, the better to conceal his confused emotions, and only half succeeding. “This next dimension serves as a source vector for many others, which puts it greatly at risk. I’m surprised the Home Office didn’t attack it earlier.”
“Okay, then that’s where we’ll go next,” I say. I’m heartened by the fact that Paul said we, that he still takes it for granted that we can go together. That gives me something to build on. “But first . . .”
“Yes?” His gray eyes meet mine for only a moment before he has to look away.
I nod toward the grand duchess. “You need to say goodbye.”
Paul hesitates, then takes a few steps toward her. When she looks up, her eyes are red. He says, “If you don’t want to talk to me—if it would hurt too much—”
“No, please.” The grand duchess gets to her feet. “It does hurt. But this chance will not come again.”
Maybe I shouldn’t be listening. And yet, I was literally a part of her during every moment she was ever with my Paul. There are no secrets among us.
Paul holds out his arms to her, and she embraces him desperately. He envelops her in his hug, cradling her close in the way that’s always made me feel so safe. So loved. When she finally pulls back, he says, “You understand the truth about the Firebirds now. That I’m not your Paul—”
“But another person he would have had the chance to have been,” she says, her voice trembling. “Lieutenant Markov so loved studying physics and optics. I feel sure it meant a great deal to him, learning that in another lifetime he had the chance to become a scientist. To follow his dreams.”