Chapter 26 Sadaré #2
Daesra’s voice pulls me from my thoughts. “Take a moment to live.” He gives me a wink. “Wasn’t that what you were always telling me?”
I roll the plum around in my fingers, unable to keep from smiling myself. “Why not?”
When I take a bite, I groan in near ecstasy as sweet juice bursts over my tongue. It’s the best thing I’ve ever tasted—at least so far, in my new life that’s no longer an afterlife.
Daesra tosses one to Melé, too, and even a couple to the chimera, who first only lurks nearby but then starts jumping to catch the fruit in his snapping jaws. He swallows them whole, pits and all. And then we’re all eating and laughing at the edge of the clearing with juices running down our chins.
That is, until Melé notices the more frequent glances exchanged between Daesra and me.
She smiles to herself and then discreetly tempts the giant beast away with more fruit.
Surprisingly, he follows her, even bounding along in her wake in a way I haven’t yet seen.
He should have been a terrifying addition to the golden meadow, but instead he leaps around, dancing on his massive paws with his wings spread, to bite at the plums and the occasional butterfly.
Part of me could watch him forever, but then another, much more urgent part of me needs to be alone with Daesra as quickly as possible. So I head into the trees.
Daesra follows behind me at first. After the frenzy of our immediate reunion, it feels like there are unanswered questions in the air. Hesitation. Uncertainty. Even though I want to tear right through them to get to him, I don’t know if he does.
When I straighten after ducking around a particularly large tree to marvel at the golden light filtering through the branches overhead, I feel his fingertip brush my shoulder. I turn, assuming he’s trying to get my attention, but his eyes trail along my back.
“There’s still a design there,” he says. “But it’s silver now, like your arm—which I might have to disguise as well, in the human realm.” His light tone doesn’t obscure his slightly troubled expression.
“Is it otherwise the same?” As soon as I ask, sounding somewhat troubled myself, I wonder how on earth he would know. He couldn’t have had much of a chance to see Isha’s mark.
But then he says, “Not entirely, from what I just glimpsed.” At the question in my eyes, he adds, “I saw what it looked like before. In fact, I rather unwillingly watched him give it to you. He liked to show me… things… from his own memory, when he was taunting me along my journey.”
My hand flies to my mouth to stifle my horrified gasp. “And you still forgive me? Of course I wasn’t intending to hide anything from you. I’ll tell you everything, if you want, but—”
But I was hoping we didn’t have to do that yet. It’s a cowardly thought. Perhaps selfish, too, since I don’t want to spoil the moment I so hoped was coming.
“No,” Daesra says quickly. “No need—unless you need to talk about it, then of course I’ll listen.
But I saw enough myself to know. And I already told you, there’s nothing to forgive.
” When I start to protest, he rides over me.
“You were trying to survive, and really, I mostly admired your ruthless cunning.” His smirk fades to a wince.
“Of course it was hard for me, but it was harder for you. And when it was no longer hard for you… that wasn’t you. ”
I nod, once more willing myself not to cry. I already know this, but it’s different hearing it from him. “So…” I begin, when I trust myself to speak. “What does it look like now?” I turn slowly to show him my back, glancing at him shyly and drawing my hair over my shoulder.
His fingers are gentle as he pulls aside the folds of my gown to get a better look.
The tips of his claws scrape gently over my skin, and I close my eyes at the delicious sensation, savoring his warmth, his smell, his palpable presence behind me.
I wish he would be less gentle. That he was parting my clothing for a different reason.
I want him to mark me.
He takes a moment to speak. “The chains are no longer chains—they’re more like the pattern of a maze, like one would find on a vase or a frieze.
The vines are leafy, not thorny. And the sun is bright, not dark, its rays no longer spreading frost, but blossoms.” His voice fades to a murmur. “Will you keep it?”
It feels like a weighted question, and I turn toward him to hide the marking—even if it’s no longer Isha’s. “He put it there to remind me of him. Perhaps, now that I’ve made the design my own, it will remind me to hate him.”
“Or perhaps you’ll simply remember him.” When I stiffen, Daesra throws up his hands. “Forgive me, Sadaré. I won’t resent anything you decide. Those are your scars, and you can treat them however you want. They’re… rather lovely,” he adds grudgingly.
“Thank you,” I say with a bite of sarcasm, but my lips twitch.
Daesra smiles tentatively back at me. And then he releases a shuddering breath, taking a step closer to me and grazing my arms—but that’s all of me that he touches.
“I’m sorry. I am still recovering myself.
I… I thought I lost you. Again. I’m happy to meet you over and over again for an eternity, but I can’t bear losing you forever. ”
“You won’t,” I assure him. “Not anymore.” I brush his forearm with my own fingertips—but that’s all.
He looks at me as if he still can’t believe I’m here. That I’m real. He reaches up to tuck my hair behind my ear with a shaking hand. Still, he doesn’t reach for me. Like he’s holding himself back.
His next words come haltingly. “Do you… Would you ever… want a child?”
Definitely not the conversation I want to be having right now.
“Gods, no!” I grimace, and then quickly replace the look with something less disgusted. “Though if you wanted one…?” I still can’t imagine such a thing, but I could perhaps try to get used to the idea, if it was something he really wanted. But it would take a long time—if ever.
Then again, we have forever.
He breathes out a sigh that might be relief. “No—at least not yet, but no. I was only wondering… since…”
“A lie, Daesra. That’s all it was. Like I said, it was awful—”
“It was deviously clever,” he interjects. “It’s what led him to break your collar.”
“I know.” I bite my lip, suddenly unable to meet his eyes. I rub my arms, as if a shadow has fallen over me, even though the air is warm and the light brighter than any I’ve seen in recent memory.
Daesra seems to be wrestling with his own guilt. “I’m so sorry, Sadaré,” he says. “I should have known that wasn’t you—”
“No,” I snap. “You shouldn’t underestimate me, even as I once was. I knew exactly what to say to convince you and Isha both. That’s not your fault. It’s not mine, either, since I didn’t act that way under my own volition.”
He closes his eyes and nods, as if trying to absorb the words. Perhaps he simply needed to hear me say it. I still want to shake him, but then his mouth spreads into a slow smile. With that, and the dappled golden light playing over his smoky skin, he looks more tempting than any fruit.
“I bound my soul, and then became the god of freedom,” he says. “You’ve always doubted your motives, and then you became the god of knowing the right path.” He opens his eyes and purses his lips, as if that could hide his smile, and my heart aches at how beautiful he is. “I’m sensing a pattern.”
I want to throw myself at him, kiss him until I can’t breathe, but I don’t want this moment to shatter, either—to wake up and realize this isn’t real. Which might be how he feels. Or perhaps there’s another reason he’s staying away?
Perhaps he needs time.
So I force myself to consider his words. “Or it’s a pattern that’s always been within us, and this is just the highest expression of it. You always sought freedom, even when you were making terrible decisions.”
“Such as becoming a daemon,” he says, as if that were no large thing.
“Such as that,” I say, suppressing my own smile.
“And even when I’ve doubted myself the most, when I knew I would become my worst self, I also knew she—Arinae—would find the way.
Even if she was only seeking immortality through her own ambition, it was still the path to you.
” I tip my head, trying to recapture his eyes—those wine-colored eyes I could drink forever.
And now I can, I think giddily.
“Hm.” His brow creases in thought. I’m tempted to smooth it with my thumb, but I wait for him to speak.
“You also always knew which way to go in the maze, even disguised as me. I thought you possessed secret knowledge from Horizon that I wasn’t aware of.
But it was more than that. You said, ‘Forward and always down.’ You gave me the thread that guided us both in the end, not the other way around.
” His mouth twists into something halfway between a wry smirk and a frown.
“To be honest, I can’t always see the right path through such an open expanse—as I just proved, when it came to you and Isha.
I suppose there’s such a thing as too much freedom.
An excess of choices.” He lifts his smoldering eyes to mine.
“But now I’ll always have a thread to guide me… if you’ll have me.”
The air thickens between us, and my entire body aches for his touch.
All I say is, “Here I was, thinking we were opposites… but when you put it like that, I suppose we complement each other well.” I shrug with a show of casualness. “Besides, what fun is it when you always know exactly which way to go? You’ll remind me to enjoy the journey.”
He bites his own lip, and I envy his teeth. “You mean I’ll get us into terrible trouble.” He hesitates. “So is it us again? I didn’t want to assume—”
How could he not understand, with all his lauding of choice, that I’ve chosen him? “Yes, it’s us,” I burst out, “you bullheaded, thick-skulled—I mean,” I falter, suddenly unsure, “unless you don’t want—”