Page 125 of Between Despair and Hope

“Yes,” he gritted out.

“Good. I’m sure the two of you will have plenty to talk about while I’m gone.” I grunted as I adjusted my bundle on my shoulder. His hand darted out, and he took it from me, tossing both of the packs onto his back.

“Wewill have plenty to talk about whilewe’regone.”

I sighed, rubbing my face with both of my hands. “I have nothing to discuss that we haven’t discussed already. If I am to be your wife in name only, it is quite unfair for you to give me any sort of hope for something more.”

“Please,” he breathed, letting me feel his vulnerability, letting me see it in his emerald eyes. The hints of gold were barely visible in the low light, and I realized I missed him more in these last few weeks than I did all of our years apart. But if he planned to tell me I could only expect more of the same, I didn’t know what I’d say to him. I wouldn’t leave him; I would be here with him for the rest of my life. But I didn’t know what to do.

I needed him to let me in. Not just for him, but for me too. I needed him. Every time I saw Nor or any of the former novices in their dormitory, my stomach twisted, and I wanted to vomit. Logically, I knew it was an accident. Even though I’d sat with Nor for long hours, exhausting every bit of knowledge she could give me about the women who’d died. Even though I’d said multiple prayers to the gods, done everything I could to help those who survived, the ache still ran deep in my soul. And then I came home to an empty bed, and no one to share that burden with.

Least of all the other half of my soul. Was that why we struggled? One soul, too bruised to heal separately? Perhaps this distance between us made it worse in more ways than one.

“Alright,” I acquiesced, and light shone in his eyes once more. “But we speak on my terms. And I am angry enough with you right now that I don’t want to talk for a good, long while.” He nodded, clearly serious in his intent to obey my wishes, and I fought the twitch of my lip. “Does Sterling already know of our plans?” I asked. He nodded once more, and I rolled my eyes. “You may speak when spoken to.”

A low growl made its way up his throat before he said, soft as velvet, “A dangerous way to speak to a man, dear heart.”

And despite myself, my traitorous body tensed and heated under his gaze. I closed my eyes, banishing images of us tangled in our sheets, his hands on my waist as he guided me on top of him that night when I accepted everything we were and would be. The image was a cruel one to conjure.

“This is only because I don’t think I can rift to the plains alone.”

“I can’t do that either, but lucky for us, Ven’s estate sits farther east. It will make our rift to the mountains easier so we don’t have to stop in the plains. It’s too hard to pinpoint a place to rift to out there.”

I nodded as he turned away, spreading his hands in front of him. Looking back over his shoulder, he smiled. “A little help?”

Hands on his hips, I leaned my forehead into his back, caressing the bond between us as I sent my divinity to combine with his.

“I have to pee, and then we can keep going.”

“I buried Faxon that way,” he replied, pointing to a patch of trees off the entrance to the cave we’d slept in months prior. Before the Faxon comment, I’d been thinking about what we’d done that night, and I knew he was thinking about it too. When I’d made a choice to take something for myself for once, to accept him as my twin flame, it had been a turning point for us both. The heady attraction weighed heavily on my tongue as the bond glowed golden.

But his comment threw me, and I looked at him, eyes wide, not sure how to react.

“Sorry. Was that—I meant nothing—well…I meant that. I wholeheartedly think you should piss on his grave if you want to, but I understand if you…don’t…” He trailed off, unable to continue as I held my stomach, a single tear rolling down my face from trying not to laugh. It was absurd. My feelings about Faxon and his betrayal were complex. I hated him for what he did, for what I’d been made to endure with him, but it almost felt like it wasn’t anger for me to own. That belonged to Elora. I knew I had every right to hate him, every right to do what I did to him, but I’d barely spared a thought for him since the day Rain put him in the ground. I wasn’t sure I wanted to start now.

His suggestion took me by surprise, forced me to think about Faxon, specifically watering his grave in my own special way, and it took all I had not to laugh out loud. Rain’s smile only grew, crooked and perfect, and the biggest I’d seen it since our wedding.

“Do you need my help to stay upright while you do it? So you don’t fall in the snow?” he asked, a brow kicking up to match his smile.

I choked on my laugh and shook my head. “I think it might be more insulting to not give him a second thought,” I answered.

I wandered away, plodding through the snow. I didn’t go too far, not as worried about my modesty as I was about getting soaked from the snow and creatures wandering at night. With the new moon only a few days past, it was still quite dark despite the blanket of white. Either way, the snow came nearly up to my knees in the deepest parts, and I didn’t feel like dealing with that. Finding a hollow beside a pine tree, I took care of my business before heading back.

“Rain?” I called out, and he was trudging through the snow a second later. He’d brushed against a branch on his way, and tiny snowflakes had landed on top of the hood he wore, and a few dusted his cheeks and lashes. Gods, he was beautiful. His breath puffed out in a cloud in front of him, and I wanted to be closer. Wanted to watch our breath mingle. I wondered if he could feel my affection. I wasn’t hiding it, but I wasn’t shouting it either. Still dreadfully hurt over his choices to shut me out, and decidedly angry over his scuffle with his friend, I focused on why I’d called him over.

“Where is he buried? You said it was under a bush?”

He nodded, gripping my elbow as he moved us closer to the cave. “I placed a stone, but it’s probably buried,” he said. “Oh. Well, shit.”

He gestured to the bush in front of us, and I couldn’t help but laugh. The bush of winterfrost roses was in full bloom. The faintly silvered edges of each petal and the fact they were blooming in the middle of winter was the only sign they weren’t ordinary roses.

“I wouldn’t have picked this bush if I’d have known. He doesn’t deserve it,” Rain murmured, and he placed his hand on the small of my back. Gods, no matter how frustrated I was with him, no matter how much I willed my spine to remain steel, it turned into a ribbon at the attention. Folding in soft, shining waves, I bent to his touch.

“It’s not a bad thing. Winterfrost roses are—well, look at them. It’s the dead of winter, and they’re beautiful. There is beauty in Faxon’s death, in his betrayal. If he hadn’t done what he did, if we never would have known?” I stepped forward, taking one of my gloves off, and plucked two roses from the bush. “You get to be a father because of what he did.”

The look on his face was contemplative as I gestured for him to turn. Digging deep into my bag hanging from his back, I tugged out a handkerchief to fold the flowers in before carefully placing them in my pack. I’d press them the first chance I could. I told myself I kept them for Elora, but truly, I didn’t know why I felt called to keep them.

“Shame on you for saying something like that. Now I can’t piss here,” he laughed, and I gave him a look over my shoulder as I marched past him. “You’re right, Em. What he did changed my life. I suppose it’s a gift.”

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