Chapter 16 Righteous
Righteous
Ihad been the strongest Protector in Sanctuary for more years than I could remember. But at that moment, recalling what I’d heard Feather’s soulmate murmur into her ear, about him guiding me into her pussy while Gavriel watched… My mind went fuzzy, like an out-of-tune radio.
I felt as weak as a Novice.
My memory had always been sharp. I could hear a song twice and know every verse.
I could read a chapter of Sanctuary doctrine and quote long passages a month later.
But I wished I could forget the way Feather’s breathy “yes” to Mikhail’s question about her secret desires had affected me.
Even thinking about it now made my cock as hard as Celestial steel.
I lifted Feather almost to my chin, hoping it wasn’t poking her in the ass.
Fuck. That thought made me even harder.
“Ry, you’re squeezing me,” the woman in question squeaked out. I loosened my grip as I carried her toward my rooms.
“Sorry.”
“What were you thinking about?” she asked, her voice carrying clearly in the quiet corridor.
“About my memory,” I said honestly. “I have almost perfect recall, but I can’t for the life of me remember why I was such an ass to you when you arrived in Sanctuary.”
She snorted. “Maybe it was because I tripped and looked up your robe. It was humiliating for us both. Not that you have anything to be embarrassed about. That whole thing I said about the Loch Ness monster was one hundred percent… I’ll stop talking again now.”
I fought back a smile as I landed in front of my door and reluctantly let her slide to her feet, though I held my hand around her waist for a moment longer than necessary.
I wanted to hold onto this moment; there was the chance, after I confessed who we had been to one another long ago, that she would never want to be this close to me again.
“Why are you so big? Even your nostrils are huge,” she observed, staring up at my face. She barely came up to my chest, and I could tell it annoyed her.
I liked her annoyed. I liked the way it made her silvery skin flush pink, made her lip jut out in a delectable pout.
I didn’t answer, just pressed my side against her, reaching behind her for the recessed plate that held the lock.
I pushed it slowly, loving how her body felt warm and small against mine.
I wish I hadn’t been such a jerk to her.
“I wish that, too,” she said, and I startled.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to say that out loud.” In fact, I was almost certain I hadn’t.
“Um, cool.” Her eyes darted anywhere but at me. “No problem.” She slid through the open door, and I heard her gasp before I followed her. I took a deep breath and shut the door behind me, praying that she’d understand—not just what I had to confess, but what she was seeing here.
My main room wasn’t white and austere like most of the other private rooms in Sanctuary.
For one thing, I’d lived longer than most Protectors.
I’d had time to gather up objects that were important to me, though we were encouraged not to grow attached to physical items. But the possessions I had were there because they reminded me of people, or events, that mattered.
Mostly, I had vibrant art, watercolors and old oil paintings of Italy.
One wall was covered with traditional landscapes, the rolling hills of Tuscany and the domed cathedrals and spires of Rome.
The other walls… I watched as she inched past my own paintings, and recognized the abbey where she had lived her first life as Tili.
I had painted that abbey so many times, I could see it with my eyes closed.
And in one of these paintings, a young girl with dark hair and eyes, a crooked grin and arms filled with roses, smiled in the center of the scene.
Her voice was subdued when she spoke at last. “You painted these?”
“I did.”
She’d guessed what I was going to say. I could see that in her eyes as she leveled her gaze at me. Then she moved on, into the adjoining bedroom.
“Uh, we can talk out—” I began, but she had already entered and seen what I had in there. The bed took up most of the space, but along each wall, I’d collected tables, and on top of every surface….
“Ry,” she breathed, gazing at the dozens of decorative pots of roses.
Not the long-stemmed, modern ones that screamed romance and had no scent, but the old strains, ones I’d found growing wild on hedges, or in hidden places.
They trailed over the table edges and climbed along the floor, transforming the room into a floral oasis.
Some of them only had three or four petals, but they smelled like I imagined the Celestial Realm would.
And since I’d known for centuries that I would never ascend, I’d decided to steal as much of Heaven as I could, and let it fill my dreams. Let her fill my dreams.
She whirled around, her silver-pale cheeks flushed. “So, this is unexpected.” She seemed unsteady, so I rushed to her side and helped her sit on the edge of the bed. I lowered myself next to her, and we stared into each other’s eyes for a long moment.
Finally, she reached up with one hand, cupping my chin. She stared into my face as if she was trying to see past the flesh and into my soul. After a long, silent moment, a faint smile played around the corners of her mouth. “Ashtad? It is you, isn’t it?”
“Tili,” I began, my voice cracking. “There’s nothing I can say to deserve your forgiveness. To earn it. I should never have, I was so wrong—”
Her hand slid around to cover my mouth. “No. There’s nothing you can say to earn my forgiveness.” My heart turned to lead, sinking to the bottom of an endless sea of regret. But then she continued, “Because I forgave Ashtad long ago.”
“How could you?” I wheezed, my heart beating again.
“I let her suffer—let you suffer. Tili, when I ran into the stables and saw that wretch Julian dead, and your sister Dina… You were covered in shadows, not breathing. I was sure you’d been killed as well.
I was overwhelmed, and I flew to Gavriel for help.
When we returned, we went in to find what had happened, but you had vanished. ”
“Rumple took me away,” she murmured.
“Rumple?”
“Rafe,” she said absently, her hand moving over the soft sheet.
“You know him as Seraphiel. He’s the one who came when I killed that man, Julian.
He came to take my soul, I think. But then something surprised him.
He gave me a choice. If I wanted to protect others like my sister, he’d teach me to take their burdens onto myself. ”
“All the smut you wore when you arrived,” I said, trying not to curse aloud. “He’s the one who forced you to wear it?”
Her brows dipped. “You know better. No one can make you take on the cost of sin. I chose it, every time.” Her voice soft, she described centuries of sacrifice, the one common thread in all her lives her relationship with a mysterious voice, who she was certain was Seraphiel.
“I saved so many children, Ry. Thanks to Rafe—”
“How do you know it’s him?” I asked, tucking her small hands into mine. “It might be a demon, Tili.”
“That’s what Gavriel said. Honestly, only Mikhail seems to think I’m not a total idiot.” Her lips were set in a tight line, and I melted. It was the same expression she’d given me all those years ago on Earth. Like I was missing something obvious.
And I had been, I realized. She’d been right all along. I just hadn’t been able to see all the pieces of the puzzle.
“Okay, I believe you.” She jolted, like I’d shocked her.
“That easily?” She screwed up her nose. “Just, ‘okay, Rumple is Seraphiel, and you’re right’?”
I tapped the end of her nose, then let my finger trace her cheek to the stubborn curve of her small chin. How had I not recognized her? So much of Feather was identical to the young girl I’d loved as a dear friend, and lost.
“Tili, I made the mistake of not listening to you four centuries ago, and I’m still wearing the smut for that error.
I lost you because of it.” Her eyes glimmered with unshed tears as she regarded me cautiously.
I fell to my knees next to the bed, still holding her hands. “Forgive me, Feather. Tili.”
“I told you, I did forgive you for not intervening. You were young, too. And it wasn’t your fault that he killed her. He might have killed you as well.”
“Not for that.” I shook my head. It was clear now why I wore the stain.
The error I’d made hadn’t been one of cowardice, but pride.
“Forgive me for not listening to you. For not believing you when you told me what was going on. That your sister wasn’t there by her own choice.
” I bowed my head. “Forgive me as well for not understanding why a soul as glorious as yours wore so much suffering and pain on your skin when you arrived here. Forgive me for judging you. Hurting you. I know now, every inch of you is blameless.” I kneeled in silence and wondered how many others in the past I might have judged wrongly.
Others I might have treated cruelly, or dismissed as unworthy. Remorse burned the back of my throat.
“You really do believe me,” she breathed after a long moment. “That it was Seraphiel who took me away. And that all the other things I did on Earth, I did them to protect people. You believe it all.”
“Yes,” I said. Before I could look up, she’d pulled my arm to get me back onto the bed, had risen to her knees, and was doing something with the sleeve of my robe.