Destined (Desolation #3) (17 page)

I wanted to start anew with Michael. To find happiness. To be happy. To be free.

Instead I said, “James.” Because I could never be wholly free as long as he was not.

He lifted his head and looked squarely into my eyes. 

“And . . .” Selfish, so selfish. “I love you. That’s all.” I felt a momentary stab of discomfort as I became aware that we were still sitting at the table with the others while they discussed war. But I didn’t move. I’d spent far too long pushing Michael away.

“That’s all?” he asked with a raise of his eyebrow. He tried to don an expression of disapproval, but his lips quirking into a smile gave him away. “Oh my love,” he said, putting his free hand around the back of my neck. His fingers separated out the strands of my hair, sending waves of pleasure radiating through me. “My love,” he said against my cheek. “I have waited so long to hear you say those words.” 

A shadow passed over his eyes, but he tilted his head until his forehead was against mine, his nose resting on the side of mine. When he looked up and regarded me with his lion eyes—golden amber rimmed with darkest brown—the shadow was gone. Flecks of gold swam in the tawny depths of his eyes, reflecting the smile on my face. “I have always loved you.”

My breath hitched, my whole being paused. I listened. Not to anyone else, not even to Michael; but to myself. To my heart. But there were no dissenting voices. No more worries that I wasn’t worthy of him. 

I felt certain I would live an eternity trying to be worthy of Michael, but I knew—I
knew
—that was okay. That he wouldn’t want it any other way. I would be with him forever and I would forever try to be the one worthy of his love.

I would never again listen to those voices in my head—the doubts planted there by Father and Akaros—I would only ever listen to my heart. And my heart had always loved Michael.

“We will find him,” Michael said. “If Helen—”

“Ahem.” Odin cleared his throat. Michael pulled back and faced our king. 

I felt my entire body grow unbearably hot, but Odin only smiled, his eyes dancing with happiness despite the dire topic of discussion. 

“We believe we have only days.” He was probably repeating himself and my gratitude for such a kind and generous king made my heart swell. “I need you to visit Cornelius, to inform him of what is coming. We will need Longinus in this battle. We will need every good man. Cornelius will know how to activate The Hallowed.”

“Yes, Lord,” Michael said. 

I stopped listening as my thoughts once again turned inward. My stomach flopped as I considered what would happen next. I’d see Miri. And I’d need to tell her about James. When we could set out to rescue him—and how.

And I still needed to tell Odin about Aaron. And . . . 

“Where’s Lucy?” I blurted out.

“I beg your pardon?” from Fahria. 

“I’m sorry,” I said, acknowledging each of them—Heimdall with his ever-glowering expression, Fahria, her lovely face as immovable as a Grecian statue, Horonius, obviously uncomfortable in our company, and Odin—my king. “I’m sorry. I should have said something earlier—and I was going to, but . . .”

I glanced at Michael and guilt clogged my veins.

“I thought Lucy would be here. I thought she’d say hello. Maybe she could help—you know, with the war.” 

Michael stared at our joined hands. Odin watched me, the glow in his eyes darkening.

“That’s how you knew where to find me, right? Lucy told you where I was?”

“Desolation,” Odin began. “I have not seen Lucy since she met you on the Bridge, so long ago.”

“But—”

“She found you?”

“Yes. Isn’t that how you knew where to find me?” I shifted, indicating Horonius.

“I led your unruly friend to you, mistress. I suspected you might have been imprisoned in the same place as the grand mistress. And I was right—in a way.”

“In a way?” Fahria asked.

“Yes, she was in the same place but she was . . . I am not sure how to explain it. Hidden behind a spell of some sort. We could not find her until she shone so brightly it undid whatever darkness had hidden her from view.”

“Is that true?” Odin asked me.

I lifted my shoulders in a shrug. “I don’t know. I only know that Aaron—Aaron helped me sweep the darkness from my soul. He shared his light with me. Helped me shine. Helped me shine brighter. And he—”

I tore my hands from Michael’s and covered my face. Tears, burning and swift, tore through me, through my chest, ripping my heart out, and flying from my eyes like a million thoughts on scissor wings. Michael placed his hand on my back, but it was Odin who spoke.

“When you are ready, tell us what happened, my daughter.”

“I—I can’t.” I fought the sobs that threatened to overcome me as I thought of Aaron and what he had done for me. “I didn’t want him to. I didn’t want to cause anyone anymore pain ever again.”

“Oh, my love,” Michael soothed.

I felt Odin’s presence in my mind then, felt it fill me like warm honey, like liquid sunshine. Felt him whispering,
It is all right, my daughter. It is all right.

“He gave everything he had to me,” I said, raising my face to Odin’s. I felt more exposed in that moment than I can remember ever feeling. Here was my king, my creator, and I was about to tell him I caused the eternal death of one of his sons. An Ascended One—a child of Odin’s who had received the highest exultation. And now he was gone. Because of me. 

But I forced myself to meet Odin’s steady gaze. To open myself and let his blue eyes see more than what was written on my face, but what was written on my heart. “He gave it all until I shone so bright and there was almost nothing of him left. And then—and then—” I choked on the tears that flooded my throat and it took me several heartbeats to push them back down. All the while Michael’s hand on mine grounded me, and Odin’s focus never wavered. 

“A soul eater . . .” I didn’t say it. I’m sure I didn’t need to. Everyone knew the soul eaters prey on any unprotected living thing. 

Though he didn’t move, didn’t look away, I felt Odin’s embrace as surely as if he physically held me in his arms. I squeezed Michael’s hand tighter, my whole body trembling with the weight of my emotions. “And what of Lucy?”

Odin’s Lucy
. I saw the flicker of pain as it crossed Odin’s eyes. Felt it mirrored in my own heart

“She left—long before the soul eater got there. She went to tell you where I was. To send help. I’m positive she should have found you by now.”

We sat in silence while everyone tried to figure out what to say to the girl who caused so much sorrow, so much death.

“Desolation—” Odin’s voice was a distant rumble, a coming storm. I snorted. Even after all Aaron and Lucy did for me, I still was no better than my name. 

“Lucy’s gone, isn’t she?” I glared at Odin, at every single one of them, even Michael, daring them to deny it. Michael flinched when his eyes met mine. “Taken by a soul eater, or lost among the stars—it doesn’t matter. Because gone is gone.” Even lit up like a star, all golden sunshine, I still knew how to drive in the knife. How to twist it deep.

“I’m sorry.” I jumped to my feet so suddenly my chair toppled over. “I’m sorry,” I said again, apologizing for the chair, for my cruelty. For Lucy. For causing the death of two of the most beautiful people in all the worlds. Aaron and Lucy died for me. People were always dying for me. My mother. Aaron and Lucy. James.

I took no thought for direction as my feet carried me away. My mind lurched into a constant loop of Mother, Aaron, Lucy, James. Mother, Aaron, Lucy, James. 

Over and

over and

over and

over.

I found myself in the garden, kneeling with my forehead pressed to the ground while my fingers cramped around fistfuls of grass. I watered the earth with my tears. I cried my sorrow out to it, with the heady fragrance of Lily of the Valley wrapping all around me. Mother, Aaron, Lucy, James. Mother, Aaron, Lucy, James.

Mother, Aaron, Lucy, James.

A flash of light, all golden sparks, then Michael said my name. 

He sat beside me. After rubbing my back for a moment, he pulled me onto his lap, cradling me like a child. I pressed my face against his chest, gripped his ocean-blue tunic, and cried hollow, dry tears. His consciousness slipped into my mind, gently coiling around my thoughts, my sorrows, embracing all of me, inside and out.

I wanted to reject him. To punish him for being so good like I’d always done in the past. But the truth was I was tired. Tired of being the cause of so much sorrow. Tired of hating myself. Tired of being alone. And so I let him hold me until the darkness around us matched the darkness behind my eyelids. I finally opened my eyes, having cried the last of my tears long ago. Michael’s cheek rested on my head and he was so still, so quiet, I thought he must be sleeping.

When I sighed, he stirred. “I’m awake,” he said, and despite myself, I smiled. Of course he knew my thoughts. Of course.

“But we should sleep. Odin asked that we gather at the Door tomorrow afternoon—there’s time, yet.” Time for what, though, I didn’t know. Time for us? Time to sleep? Time to forget? He helped me stand, then stood himself. “Your mother’s rooms—” he cleared his throat. “The Valkyrie have prepared a room for you—but you’re welcome to stay with me.” 

I waited a beat, trying to discern which he wanted. My heart told me he wanted to be with me, but my mind still denied the love he forever held out to me. He put his hands on my arm, dipped his chin so he could catch my eyes. And in that moment I didn’t have to read his thoughts to know what he wanted. It was clear in everything about him, so clear even I couldn’t deny it. 

“I don’t want to be away from you,” he said.
Ever, ever again.

The starlight reflected off the curve of his cheek while he smiled before leading me out of the garden. As we walked, the way became more familiar and I realized I knew this place—all of this place.

I Remembered Mahria and the fierce gleam in her eyes while she taught me to fight with the staff. She was the one to suggest to Odin I’d like one of my own. 

I Remembered when she left Asgard, and the mysterious words she’d said. She told me she was going to prepare a place for me, and that I was to never forget she loved me. And never forget who I was.

But even though I Remembered, Remembered all of it, it was still so, so hard to believe I could be the sum of all my experiences and not just a product of Father’s evil. How could I believe there was anything good in me when everyone who got involved with me suffered so much? 

Michael stopped and pulled me in front of him. “Desi.” His hands gripped my arms tight and when I met his eyes they burned with anger—and love. “You must stop this.”

I opened my mouth.
Stop what?
I wanted to ask. 

“You wish to punish yourself—still—for the evil you have done. I—” his voice caught and he paused, looked down, “I know some of what you must feel, what you must think.” He swallowed against some emotion I recognized but rejected. How could Michael be feeling shame?
What sins has he committed? 

“There was a time when I could only love you, when I didn’t understand the darkness in you, but had to hope, had to believe, you were still you. Glorious. Good. I believed it, and I wasn’t wrong.” When I looked away, he crooked a finger under my chin, pulling my face upward. “I wasn’t wrong. But—” Again he dropped his eyes. This was so unlike him, to be unsure, to be lost for words.

“I understand now. The darkness, I mean. The temptation to think the worst of yourself. To expect the worst. To think the ones you love couldn’t possibly love you if they knew just how far you’ve fallen.” 

He pulled me to him, clasping me hard against his chest, burying his face in the hair at my neck. When he pulled back, unshed tears shimmered in his eyes. Gently he turned me around, stopping me when my back was to him. He leaned down, putting his face next to mine. 

I could feel his cheek against mine. Smell the sweet, tart smell of him. His hands softened on my arms and he moved so his lips were against my neck. “But, we are in Heaven, love. We are home.”

My eyes opened wide, understanding and hope washing away the fear and doubt so swiftly that it left me weak. I sagged against him. He whispered against my neck, my ear, my cheeks until his words turned to kisses. He swept me up into his arms and carried me to his house.

He lived in a small, single-story cottage made of stones I knew he had laid himself. At the green door I held out my hand, stopping us from passing through the doorway. I traced the knotted heart carved into the lintel and raised a questioning brow.

“Always,” he said.

He’d always remembered, while I hadn’t. He’d stayed faithful when I had forgotten him. He had fought for me, long after I’d given up.
Always
.

He opened the door and I wrapped my arms more tightly around his neck. As we crossed the threshold I wondered, can we really let go of the past? Let go of our mistakes? Because whatever had come before, we were here now. No matter how much I’d forgotten, I remembered now. No matter how lost I’d become, how lost we had both been, we were found now. That had to count for something.