Page 221 of A Soul to Steal

He wished she hadn’t mentioned it. At least, not so soon.

“That’s because it is.” He grabbed the neck, pretending to double-check it, when really he was avoiding her gaze.

“What do you mean, it’s the same one?” The frown of disbelief was obvious in her tone. “How the hell did you get it?”

“How do you think?” he coldly bit out, glaring at it, and hating the way shame prickled on the back of his neck.

“Gideon... you didn’t,” she rasped. “How could you do that to him? To go to...hishome just to get it.”

His lips tightened. “I didn’t know he’d still have it.”

In his peripheral, he noted she threw her arms forward. “Then why?”

“Because, Emerie... I forgot everything.” His posture slumped, and he finally looked at her from over his shoulder. “I lost all my memories of Tenebris. Of meeting you, him, and accepting that eight years had passed without me, and...” One knee thudded against the ground, unable to hold its crouched position any longer. “I needed to figure out a way to let go, and fast. I needed to see that everything had changed, so I could break away from that life and accept this new one. That’s why.”

Then he closed the case, clicked the latches shut, and stood.

He turned and narrowed his eyes at her.

“If you’re wondering, no. I didn’t take it to remember him. I took it because it’s mine. I died, and this guitar was my consolation prize. I plan to make new and better memories with it, and Aleron.” He walked closer to her and placed his hands on the table on either side of her. “But if you don’t mind, I’d like this conversation toend. He doesn’t know what I left behind yet, and I will tell him whenweare ready. Okay?”

Thankfully the two Duskwalkers outside were too busy getting to know each other again to pay attention to what they were saying. They’d also kept their exchange vague enough that he didn’t think Aleron would understand.

She gave him a cute, pouted glare, only to roll her blue eyes at him. “Fine. Fair enough.”

Surprised by her response, his head cocked.

For a moment there, he’d forgotten this wasn’t the same woman.Look at how much she’s aged.She sported a tiny wrinkle here and there at the corners of her eyes, lips, and even her forehead.

She still looked as beautiful as he remembered. She was still Emerie, just... different.

The nineteen-year-old he’d known would have thrown a tantrum at him by now. She would have spat venom with her words, throwing her hands up and giving him a disapproving growl, likely through bared teeth.

She may have even childishly stomped her foot.

Her flushed, freckled face of confrontation wouldn’t have softened and then eased back to the gentle tan that he knew.

She’d matured.

Her features soothed, her shoulders relaxed, and her gaze returned to him with understanding.

So much has changed.

In some ways, she felt like a stranger to him. Their roles were reversed. She was five years older than him now, becoming his older sister, who was wiser, more experienced, and had survived the test of life in the cruellest of ways.

How could he swallow the truth that was so blatant before his very eyes? He guessed he’d have to get used to it and try not to feel inferior for it. They were supposed to grow up together as siblings, hand in hand, and that had been robbed from them.

Neither was to blame, and he’d spend forever ensuring she knew that – regardless of what had happened in the past, or why.

He smiled appreciatively that she’d let it go, and backed up.

Feeling a little silly for cornering her now, he turned away.

He walked back over to the front door, this time to fold his arms across his chest and lean his side against the doorframe. Rather than fight with her, he wanted to watch the two Duskwalkers so he could witness Aleron’s excitement, and let it soothe him from his sudden disgruntled emotions.

Tenderness washed over him.

Already, Aleron had wrapped his uninjured wing around the back of Ingram, just as he had slung an arm over Aleron’s shoulders. Even their tails had crossed, Ingram’s lizard one on top of Aleron’s raven one to curl around his waist. They were chatting, both trying to shove into and interrupt each other’s conversation, eager to be the first to tell all of what they’d been doing for the last few months.

---