Page 142 of Between Wrath and Mercy

“Did I say something wrong?”

Ignoring him, I made my way over to the door where Rain sent water before, opting to settle for a towel if there was no alternative. It was pitch black, only faint shapes discernible in the light, and I shoved out my arms to grab onto something and found soft cloth after only a moment. I pulled down a hand towel, using it to clean up the mess between my thighs before continuing my search, patting along the wall in desperation. My divinity hummed, and I felt a surge of annoyance before a sudden thought struck me. Holding out my palm, I focused, attempting to put Rain's theory to the test, and I gasped when my fingertip began to glow. Staring at the white light emanating from my skin, I allowed myself only a moment to come to terms with it. There were bigger things to worry about. Using the light, I was able to see a robe hanging up and grabbed it with my other hand, extinguishing my divinity before I pulled on the garment. Once back in the bedroom, I realized it was Rain's, the bottom of the emerald satin fabric dragging across the crimson rug. He watched me warily as I set to pacing in front of the fire, expectant but quiet. There was nothing I could say to him, though, not until I was absolutely certain. Shivers of fear from before gave way to unparalleled shaking—a combination of panic and chill, and perhaps a bit of hunger since I’d barely eaten.

“Em?”

I waved a hand to silence him as I walked back and forth. I hoped he’d think my behavior was because of my divinity and what that could mean, but the reality was much worse. I allowed myself that moment in the dark to contemplate it, and I wouldn't bother with it again. If I was the Beloved, the overwhelming emotion I felt was relief. If I was the Beloved, Elora was not. But none of that mattered, not when all I could think about was what Faxon had said to Rain before he died.

I suppose she’s yours? I always knew she spread her legs for you.

I had only ever been with two men. Rain was only the once, and we had been interrupted only moments into it. Though I was no expert, I did know that what we had done could have resulted in a child in rare circumstances, but the likelihood seemed slim considering how briefly we were joined. When I considered that Faxon had consummated our marriage just one week later, continuing to lay with me regularly until he was satisfied I'd provided him an heir, I thought the odds of Elora belonging to Faxon were immense. It hadn’t even crossed my mind that Rain could . . . I stopped myself. I was overthinking it. Faxon had only meant it the way I'd originally interpreted. I was the person he spoke of, not our daughter. It was impossible; there was no use letting myself think it.

She is not the prophecy.

Faxon had said many things that day, and I'd considered them all delusory ramblings of a man half out of his mind. But it seemed as if he was right about Elora. How could he have known? Shaking my head, I muttered to myself as I paced. What other things had he said? He hadn't said that my eyes would turn white but instead said theywerewhite in that moment. Had a vision been implanted into his mind? Just because he might have been right about Elora not being the Beloved didn’t mean he was right about anything else. Not once had I doubted she was the one the prophecy spoke of—because she was just like Lucia. The Myriad had determined Lucia was the Beloved, and though they were wrong because of her death, it stood to reason, they’d at least be searching for someone with the same abilities, like Elora. But they’d been wrong before. It could have been a fluke for Faxon to be right about that.

Elora not being his daughter would help explain why he sold her. But if I never even knew, how could he know? There was no way to know, was there? Elora looked like me. I had a feeling I was right; the only reason Faxon would have given up his child, the girl he seemed to care for and love, would be if he found out she wasn't his and acted in anger. Perhaps he found out somehow and decided to sell her and run away. But Faxon still paid those debts to protect me. If he had thought I had a child with someone else, would he have bothered? Especially if he thought I kept it secret on purpose? I'd never told him I'd been with Rain; it was none of his business. And besides, how could I have known Rain sired her when it was so preposterous?

I felt hands on my waist, and I jumped, flinching away from Rain's touch. He wore a blanket wrapped around his shoulders and concern etched across his face.

“Em, I told you I would love her as my own. Is this not what you imagined? If you think I've overstepped, I will not apologize. I meant what I said.” He sounded frustrated, and I struggled to listen to him, my instincts wanting to explain, but I couldn't do it. Paying attention to him was out of the question until I’d figured everything out.

“What?” I pulled away from him, continuing to pace.

“Is that what upset you? You jumped up right after I said she was our daughter. You have plenty to be upset about right now, I suppose, but I assumed you'd be pleased.”

“It’s not that. I—I can’t even explain—” A thought occurred to me. One question which could help solve my inner turmoil. One question I could ask him. But after posing it, he would start to wonder, and I’d need to make sense of things fast.

“Rain, were you taking the tonic back then?”

“Back when?”

“When we—Before.” I froze, waiting for him to understand. His brows bunched before he answered, clearly confused.

“No, I wasn’t on the tonic back then. You were the fir—Why are you asking me that, Em?” His eyes narrowed on me, and I averted my own. I couldn’t look at him until I knew for sure. This could break us, could ruin us. I was terrified of being right. I was terrified of him thinking I'd hidden from him. Terrified of him being angry at me for the lost time.

Unbidden, another image appeared in my mind. The two women who whispered to one another as I bled out were at the forefront of my thoughts. They were present at her birth. If they were who I thought they were, why were they there? Could their presence have had something to do with the improbable situation that started to seem more and more possible the longer I thought?

I set to pacing again, shuffling through all the evidence in my mind which pointed to Rain being Elora’s father. He stood near me, arms limp, and as much as it pained me, I froze him out, not able to handle explaining yet. I had only moments before he understood, and I needed to gather my thoughts.

I imagined her face in my mind, searching it for any traits belonging to him. It had never occurred to me to look for his features because we’d been called back in the middle of our tryst, and it was nearly impossible. But she’d always had darker skin than mine, but so had Faxon—though not by much. Her eyes were blue like mine, and her hair was white like my sister's. But where mine was wavy, Elora's had always been rather curly. I’d always thought it came from Faxon’s side, two of his brothers having mild curls, though hers were far tighter. Her expressions, though, they’d always belonged to someone other than me. I had always assumed Faxon, but now? Hell, I had even said it in my vows to him. Her smile had always reminded me of Rain. Every time her face lit up in a grin, and especially when she laughed, I saw him. But I always thought it was because I’d seen parts of him everywhere. I had been looking for him, and I had found him in different ways. Her smile was childlike wonder and joy, just as Rain's had been, but that wasn’t it at all. I saw his smile in hers because he was a part of her.

He grabbed my arm.

“Emmeline.” Rain's face was grave, features stern and eyes wary, his voice a command. Where I'd averted my eyes before, I finally let them meet his. Let him read me this way, the intimate way he had always been able to do. Let him see the emotions, the confusion. The doubt and relief. The regrets. All of it.

The moment I saw understanding cross his face, I fell to my knees. His expression cracked, his brows meeting in the center and his mouth going slack. His emotions mirrored mine, but the moment I saw the heartbreak in his eyes, I wasn’t sure I’d be able to continue. He dropped to his knees with me, the blanket curling around him, while he held onto my hands. I forced myself to meet his gaze, to live in his sorrow as he took me in, tears gathering on his lashes.

“She’s mine?” His voice broke, hoarse and pained.

I tried to speak, but the words wouldn't come. I let out a sob and mouthed my confirmation. Rain took a gasping breath as the tears threatening to fall down his face burst forth. He nodded as if what I said made perfect sense, and he pulled my hands to his chest. I watched our hands clasped tightly and listened to his heart stampeding through his chest. We both knelt together, accepting this new truth into our lives. With my hands on his heart and my own heart in my throat, we stayed there for countless moments.

He heaved a deep breath and wiped his eyes, letting my hands drop from his chest, and I almost couldn’t breathe as I awaited his anger and frustration. I braced myself for accusations and harsh words, terrified of his reaction. I'd wanted all of him, the sweet and loving and the angry and vicious, and I thought I was about to get the latter. I couldn’t control myself as I let panic bubble over into my words. “Forgive me, please. I didn’t know, I swear it. Rain, I didn’t know.” He shushed me and pulled me closer, tucking me into the blanket with him. We sat on the floor, huddled together, as we untangled our new reality.

“When was she born?” Quiet and shaky, he sounded nothing like the demanding or harsh Rain, nor the delicate and loving Rain. This was new territory, and I was so sad to do this to him, to tell him something he should have known for a long time. What hewouldhave known if I would have deigned to see him. It was a special kind of pain to know that if I had only allowed him to be a part of my life that one of us would have figured it out. The knife was sharp in my gut. When she was a babe cradled in my arms, and I had searched her face for pieces of me as I fed her, I'd found little comfort. Oddly enough, my mother, who had been avoiding me, not even present for Elora’s birth, had come to me one morning when I was feeling particularly overwhelmed by the tiny, wailing creature in my arms. I suspected Nana had sent her after walking in on me crying for the infant to just be quiet. Mother came to distract me and gaze upon the little love, caressing her fat cheek. She’d commented on the audacity that children had, to spend nine months on the inside only to come out looking like their father. I’d laughed, but looking at her, I hadn’t seen Faxon either. Now I knew why. It wasn't until she was a toddler that she began to look like me. If I had seen them together before then, there was no doubt in my mind that I would have known.

“Spring Equinox.” Rain did the math as I had done already, and by the expression on his face, came to the same conclusion I had.

“I wasn’t on the tonic, but we stopped before I . . . I didn’t—I know it isn't impossible, but—” He didn’t seem doubtful, just confused. He was right, it didn’t seem possible, but I had already thought of the probable explanation. I took a breath, cutting him off, readying myself to verbalize what I'd been thinking.

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