A Battle of Blood and Stone (Chronicles of the Stone Veil 4)

I shake that thought away, taking a moment to sift, and oh… the memories.

They’re lovely.

So beautiful, my time with Carrick.

All the times he came to our farm and sat at our table for a meal. He had charmed my father, who was more than glad to let us marry. Of course, he died before that happened. I feel the aching loss of that man in the same way I felt the loss of my father when he killed himself.

I smile as I recall the romantic things Carrick did for me time after time, but I focus on the rose garden he had built me behind the manor house where I moved after we were wed.

It was stunning. I know how much I loved to spend time out there, tenderly hand pruning each plant, of which there were hundreds.

Oh… and the first time we made love. Although I distinctly remembered ways in which Carrick made me feel good before he took my virginity, it was our wedding night when I finally gave it to him. He was a gentleman, but he also wasn’t I’m happy to say.

Memories flood me, each one as clear and robust as if it had happened just yesterday. And the feelings… so strong and vibrant.

My heart feels like it’s swelling to epic proportions at how much I loved Carrick back then. More than my own life.

More than anything.

Wow. I can feel the times when he angered me. We’d have heated arguments that involved shouting sometimes, but it always ended with Carrick kissing me because we could never stay mad at each other for long.

Year after year, I note the highlights, knowing I can go back now that I have them and pick up the low lights one day.

They continue all the way up to appearing in Rune’s clutches and the look of horror on Carrick’s face just before my world went black.

When I died for the first time.

Carrick’s hands come to my face, and I blink out of the memories. His head dips, eyes slightly concerned. “Are you okay?”

I nod and try to make light of it because the onslaught of such deep emotion shook me. I cough to clear my throat. “Apparently, I really loved the hell out of you back then.”

Carrick’s head tips back and he laughs deeply, delighted by my response, and then he kisses me, bending me backward.

When he lets me up for air, I glance at Temen, who is smiling broadly, his cheeks a little pink at witnessing such affection between us.

“What would you like to see next?” Temen inquires.

I have no clue, so I turn to Carrick for the answer. He ponders before saying, “Our time together in New Zealand, late 1800s. She was Hattie then, and I was Carrick.”

My nose wrinkles inadvertently at the old-fashioned name of Hattie, but I suspect it wasn’t old-fashioned then.

Temen waves his hand over the crystal. While he does, I ask Carrick, “Did you ever bring me here during my other past lives?”

He shakes his head. “You never asked to, but I don’t think you ever needed it. We always had time to fall in love the right way, creating new memories each time. We always had time where I could tell you all about your past lives.”

“Would you have brought me here had I asked?”

Leaning in, Carrick kisses me softly. “I wouldn’t deny you anything, Finley.”

I know, without a doubt, I wouldn’t deny him anything either.

Temen holds out the crystal, which is glowing again. I take it, smile up at Carrick, and say, “Let’s go to New Zealand.”

I don’t know how long Temen patiently stands there with us as I gather my memories to me like long-lost family members. Each past life doesn’t confuse my current existence, but rather makes me more complete. In some of my lives, I was a pioneering force of a woman. In the late 1800s in New Zealand, I was a female cattle herder.

Other times, my life wasn’t overly exciting—like when I was a laundress in fifteenth-century France. Carrick coming into my ordinary life was exhilarating to me. It made me feel like I was destined for so much more, and look at me now.

Every time period I soaked in always ended abruptly when I died. Sometimes, I knew it was coming like with a protracted illness. Other times, it was sudden and unexpected. Rune had endless possibilities, but he seemed to favor the more dramatic deaths that would crush Carrick.

At times, Carrick was with me when I passed. Others, I was alone when I died because he was out and about and we had no clue it would happen that day. We had always made a pact that we would lead our lives fully and not just wait for it to come.

And—always—he was the person I was thinking about when things went black.