I hadn’t noticed during the throbbing pain splintering my head, but Kal removed her hand from me. There’s now a space between us on the couch. I realize how my words have hurt her. It wasn’t only Bale who desired Kal’s death—it was me. Though Bale twisted my feelings for the woman I love into an obsessive need to be eliminated, I’m the one who delivered those threats to Kal. I’m the one who wounded her. Over and over…
My mouth parts to say something, but Kal turns her full attention on Bax, not me, when she says, “She only loathes the reminder of her humanity, despises it. She doesn’t fear me now. She admitted as much.”
A lump lodges in my throat. I wish it would choke me.
I’m not sure if Kal truly believes her words, or if she’s simply afraid to go up against Bale again—something no one would fault her for—but she’s lost her fire. That once clear belief in herself that made her burn brighter than any star or moon has dimmed.
“Kal…” Lilly begins.
“I should check on Aurelia,” Kal says, pretending not to hear her friend’s afflicted tone. “Fill me in on whatever plan we decide on.” Then she bounds from her seat and leaves.
The den becomes so quiet, I can hear the crash of the waves against the shore far below.
I’m torn. One side of me demanding I man up and go after her, the other deciding she needs space. I know her volatile nature, and how she gathers strength from solitude—what true comfort would I be? Then I berate my damn, dumb self and I’m rising from the couch when Lena’s voice stops me cold.
“Choice words, Prince,” she says, shooting me a glare that could flay me.
“Lena, it’s not his fault,” Lilly says. I appreciate her offering to stand in my defense, but she’s wrong.
It is my fault. It’s me. I’m still wrong.
? 33 ?
Kaliope
RUNNING A BRUSH THROUGH Aurelia’s silver hair, I hum the song my mother used to sing to me when I was sick. She’d sing so low I’d have to scoot close to hear her, because like I revealed to Caben long ago, my father got angry when she disturbed him.
But I hum it audibly now, though I’m a poor substitute for my mother, before her lung disease took her singing voice. Caben’s mother seems to relax when I do.
“She seems calmer now.”
I turn to see Lilly lingering near the open door. Pressing my lips into a tight smile, I nod. “She knows her son’s well. I’m sure most of her anxiety before was fear for him.”
Lilly enters the room, walking slowly toward me. “I’m sure that’s it.” She pauses near my side. Tilts her head. “And how is your anxiety fairing over it all?”
I shrug. I can’t really lie to Lilly. She sees right through me. “Now that the dust has literally settled? I’m not sure. Relieved, most days. On edge others, anticipating some residual side effect to surface.” I sigh. “And then there’s everything else. Which makes me feel selfish for even taking the time to consider my and Caben’s…whatever. The impending doom that Bale is going to bring on everyone when she feels so inclined to resurface.”
Lilly takes my hand, removing the brush so she can link her fingers with mine. “You truly don’t feel you hurt her at all?”
I shrug. “Some. Probably not enough. The closest I can figure…I think I made her feel.” I look into Lilly’s amber eyes, watch as comprehension brightens them. “The part of her I carry, when I destroyed the clamp? I had so much…” I shake my head. “It’s hard to explain. Like every emotion ever imparted to humanity struck me all at once. It was overwhelming. I’m sure I transferred at least some of that
to Bale when I bled on her.”
Lilly releases my hand to wrap her arms around me, and I hug her tightly in response. Needing and for once, accepting, offered security. “You think that’s why she stripped herself of it? I mean, that part of herself. Maybe it was too much. Even for a goddess.”
Disentangling myself from her, I say, “It’s sometimes unnerving how closely our thoughts coincide.” Her lips twitch into a soft smile. And I’m glad we’ve been able to move past our argument about her relationship with Lena—though I’m still watching that closely.
“I have considered that,” I say. “But she’s a goddess. She’s all-powerful and above comprehension. How can she be limited in any fashion? Incapable of anything?”
Her brows pull together. “I don’t know. For all our knowledge on the goddesses we worship, there’s still so little known about them.”
I agree. “Something’s missing. And it’s a big something. I feel it’s the part that will unveil Bale’s possible weakness, maybe.” And what I can’t tell her further? That I empathize with a goddess bent on mayhem and obliteration—that if I had to carry the full dose of those overpowering emotions all the time…I’d have torn it from my bleeding soul also?
I’m relieved I only felt it for a moment. Though, I’ll never be the same for it.
“You’ll pull through this,” she says. “And we will figure it out. You just need some time to acclimate.”
“Yes, as I’ve never been one to handle the feeling part well. Makes sense I’d blow up into a giant ball of fury and attack a mad goddess.”