28. Sullha
SULLHA
T he elevator doors opened onto a concrete corridor, and Alfie stepped out first, holding the door with one arm while Sullha and Yaaf exited.
"Okay, here's how this works." The Guardian let the doors slide closed behind them.
"When you're ready to go back up, call me, and I'll come to get you.
The penthouse dedicated elevator won't respond to you because access to that level is restricted, and that elevator is the only way to get up there.
" A ghost of a smile ticked one side of his mouth up.
"Take your time. If they want you back, they'll call me, and I'll come to get you.
Until then, I will be in the security office. "
He gave them a two-fingered salute and strode down the corridor.
"The Guardians' security office is the last on this level," Yaaf said. "My room is the fourth door." He pointed.
The sound of Alfie's footsteps was quickly fading into the distance, and then there was silence.
They were alone.
Just her, and Yaaf beside her, and a long concrete corridor with doors along one side.
"I didn't think he would just leave us like that," Sullha said, which wasn't a brilliant observation, but her mind hadn't caught up with what was happening yet.
"Yeah, me neither." Yaaf sounded as surprised as she felt. "I expected him to stay." He looked down at her, concern in his blue eyes. "Are you okay with that?"
"I'm more than okay with that. The only privacy we've ever had was when you created an invisibility bubble around us on the play yard."
"It wasn't an invisibility bubble. It was a bubble of inattention. I thralled everyone to ignore my presence."
"Whatever," she waved a dismissive hand. "Show me where you live."
He took her hand and walked her down the corridor until they reached the fourth door, which looked exactly like the three that preceded it.
Thick, solid, painted a pale gray that didn't even attempt to disguise what it was.
Near the bottom of it was a glass window that had a handle, which meant that it could be opened.
Sullha crouched and looked through it at the window on the other side. The door was about thirty centimeters thick, and the opening at its bottom was probably for delivering meals. If it was for checking on the prisoners, it would have been located higher up on the door.
"Don't get scared by the door. It's never locked or even closed."
She straightened up and took out her phone. "Zohara wants pictures. I'm starting with the door, so she can appreciate everything that comes after it."
"Strategic," Yaaf said. "Set her expectations low. Do you know how to take pictures with a phone?"
She nodded. “The former harem ladies showed us all how to do that.”
“Good.” He pushed the door open and stood aside to let her enter first.
The room surprised her.
It was long and narrow, about the same width as the room she'd shared with Tomek in the enclosure but twice as long and about a hundred times nicer.
A small couch sat just inside the entry, enough for two people to sit comfortably, and watch the television mounted on the wall across from it.
A shallow console beneath the screen held mostly books.
Deeper in, a bed was tucked against the same wall as the couch, neatly made, the blanket folded with precision, and across from the bed stood a chest of drawers.
At the far end, a partition of glass blocks screened a bathroom.
A narrow rug ran the whole length of the floor, and framed pictures hung on the walls, one above the couch and one above the bed, depicting landscapes.
"This is nice," she said. "Much nicer than my room in the enclosure was. You should have told me that you are living in luxury."
He chuckled. "After living in Navuh's mansion and the hotel, this seemed modest, so I didn't feel like singing the room's praises. It might look nice, and we are not locked in, but we are still restricted, and it's not what we imagined when the clan promised us refuge."
"It's not fair." She raised the phone and photographed the room for Zohara: the couch, the television, the glass blocks, the absurdly neat bed. "But they are doing this to protect their community." She snapped a few more for good measure, then turned to Yaaf and snapped several of him.
"I know." He rubbed his hand over the back of his neck. "We are an anomaly, and they are afraid of us. Nothing new about that. Even the mothers are afraid of us."
She noticed the collective reference but decided not to comment on it. "Zohara is going to be disappointed. She wanted to see a dungeon, and you're living in a small, tidy apartment."
"Tell her there are chains in the bathroom."
"Are there?"
"No. Towels. Nice plush ones."
She laughed, and something loosened in her chest. "Should I take a picture of them?"
"No." He sat on the couch and patted the seat next to him. "You should sit with me."
The two-seater was small, and Yaaf was a big guy, so there was no room for polite distance. His knee was a breath away from hers, his arm along the backrest behind her shoulders.
He held out his hand, palm up.
She put her hand in it, and his fingers closed around hers, warm and strong.
"Ask your questions."
"Just like that?"
"Unless you want to ask them over the phone, an opportunity like this one is not going to come again anytime soon."
He was right.
Sullha took a deep breath and asked the question that mattered most.
"Did you know that the women in the enclosure could become immortal? That Mortdh's teaching about us being undeserving of immortality was a lie?"
"We suspected many of Mortdh’s teachings were untrue.
After we transcended and began thinking more independently, we concluded that females were not inferior to males in any way, but it still didn’t click for us that the women in the enclosure could transition.
We should have deduced that since they carry the same godly spark as the sons they bear for the Brotherhood, they should, but we didn’t, and we only learned the truth when we got here, and the Guardians told us how we were misinformed.
Then it suddenly made perfect sense. Dormant boys fight older transitioned boys, get bitten, and the venom ignites the process.
Adult immortal males bite during sex, and that is how female carriers of the godly genes are induced.
It explains why immortal males are not permitted inside the enclosure, not even sons visiting mothers. ”
Sullha let out a breath, and the tightness in her chest that had started with Margaret and Bowen's revelations eased.
He hadn't known. All those weeks he had visited her in the enclosure, sat beside her in the garden, planned the escape, told her he loved her, he had done it without knowing that she could become an immortal like him.
"So, now you know," she said.
"Now I know."
She didn't have to spell out for him what that meant.
He'd always known that she wasn't a regular human female, and now, thanks to Bowen's explanation, he also knew what it took to awaken the dormant genes within her.
Now she knew it too, also thanks to Bowen and his mate, and the knowledge sat between them on the couch like an exposed electrical wire.
There was no polite way to think about it while they were sitting so close, the fingers of their hands intertwined, and there was no way to politely steer the conversation to where he revealed whether he wanted that.
He'd never tried to touch her beyond her hands, and the only kiss they had shared she had initiated, while he'd stood frozen and hadn't reacted. Hadn't even wrapped his arms around her.
Was he even capable of the act?
She was not brave enough to ask that question.
Thankfully, she had plenty of other ones that mattered almost as much.
"Lady Areana said that a truelove bond is rare, and it is a blessing from the Fates that even gods don't dare to question.
She said that after Mirumah asked her how she could choose Navuh, so I assume she considers him her truelove mate.
To me, having someone like him as a mate seems more of a curse than a blessing if it can hold a goddess captive.
I thought that Lady Areana was giving too much credence to what must be a myth.
Do you know anything about that? Is a truelove bond real? "
Yaaf nodded. "Bowen explained it too." He leaned back, and his arm moved from the backrest onto her shoulders, enormous and heavy, and she leaned into it because she could.
Because she trusted him. Because it felt right.
"We also challenged him when he told us about the truelove bond, but he swore by it.
It sounds like a myth, but then living goddesses still walking the Earth also sound like a myth, but they are as real as you and me. "
She looked up and arched a brow. "Are we real? Because this feels like a dream to me."
"It does," he admitted. "A strange, lovely dream that I don't want to wake up from."
It was such a sweet thing to say that her eyes misted with tears that she didn't want him to see. "So, what's the myth? Who are those mystical Fates, and how do they decide who to pair with whom?"
"According to clan lore, there are three entities called the Fates.
They weave people's destinies and find them good matches if they are deserving.
Those who are most worthy of a boon are granted a truelove mate.
" He sounded matter-of-fact, as if he was quoting a manual, but she knew he was choosing the words with care. "A truelove bond lasts forever."
"Do the Fates serve everyone or just the clan?" she asked.