Asunder

Asunder after all.

 

“I’ll go.” I stood, and the cacophony stopped; Frase and Finn had Sam pinned against the wall already, fists drawn back as though they were going to punch him. It hadn’t been much of a fight, one against many. “I’ll go,” I said again, “as long as you keep your promise about the other newsouls.”

 

“Of course we will.” Sine nodded at the men holding Sam. “Please, all of you. Stop this. Sam, I’m disappointed in you.”

 

Sam muttered a few unfamiliar curses as he jerked away from the Councilors. “You deserve everything coming to you.”

 

I frowned—no one deserved what Janan would do—but I just turned for the Council chamber doors. “I need to pack a few things.”

 

“That’s fine.” Now that it was over, Sine was gentle. “We can give you two days.”

 

That didn’t give me much time to pack and say good-bye to friends, but it was more time than I’d expected.

 

Afternoon fell in pale splashes across Heart. Sam and I walked home, not talking about the Council’s decision. Instead, he called and vented to Stef, who immediately went to demand an appeal. Other friends joined in, once they heard the news, but when they came over later, everyone said the Council had refused to hear them.

 

When Stef and Sarit left late that night, Sam and I changed into nightclothes and settled in the remains of our parlor.

 

“I can’t believe this is really happening.” He sounded far away.

 

“They’ll never accept me.” I closed my flute into its travel case, grateful it had survived the mob. “They don’t trust me, and they won’t believe the truth. But I believe Sine when she says she’ll take care of the other newsouls. They have a chance. As far as Janan goes—what can I do against him when the Council has everything?”

 

“You won’t give up against him, though.”

 

“No. But what I want to do, I can’t do here.”

 

“What’s that?” Hope colored the edges of his voice.

 

“I’m going to find the sylph.” I was closer to finding answers to the questions I’d asked in Menehem’s lab, but I needed to know more. And Cris was out there. Somewhere. Maybe—No, he’d already given everything.

 

Sam smiled grimly. “I’m going with you.”

 

Joy sparked inside of me. “Are you sure? I’d never ask you to leave—”

 

“I’d go anywhere with you.” He touched my cheek. “It doesn’t matter where or how far, or even why. I want to be with you no matter what.”

 

“Thank you.” Heartbeat thudding in my ears, I met his eyes and let my emotions bubble into words. “I love you, Sam.”

 

It was easy to say. I could love. And I did.

 

Sam swept me into his arms and hugged me so tight I couldn’t breathe, whispering his love again and again. His promises sat warm on my throat, trapped in my hair and shirt collar, and I imagined they wrapped around me like armor.

 

“I always have,” I said into his hair. “I’ve loved you since I first heard your music, and saw how you wrote about it.” I kissed his throat, twisted my fingers in his shirt. “I loved you when you saved me from the lake and put your breath inside me.” His face, his hair, his shoulders—everywhere my hands could find, they did. “I loved you that day in the library when you showed me your past lives, and at the masquerade before I was totally sure you were the shrike.”

 

“All those times?” He pressed his cheek against mine.

 

“And more. When you took care of my hands, when you found me outside the temple. I even loved you when I was angry with you. Maybe especially then.” While I spoke, I’d settled myself on his lap, facing him. His heart thudded against mine. “I think no matter what happens, I’ll always love you.”

 

Even though five thousand years ago, he’d made the choice to sacrifice newsouls, I still loved him. I couldn’t help it.

 

He’d changed so much since then. The entire world had changed.

 

We fell asleep on the sofa, tangled in blankets. My cheek rested on his chest, and my arms looped around him. I loved the way he felt underneath me, and the way his hand rested on my ribs. I loved the occasional soft snore.

 

There were so many times I should have said it since meeting him. I should have told a lot of other people, too.

 

It was the last night before the new year. The Year of Hunger was passing into memory as I breathed.

 

I slipped from Sam’s arms and let my nightgown fall straight, then took careful steps around the last of the piano wreckage. Dried and delicate rose petals still speckled the floor, like flecks of cracked blue paint.

 

“Ana?” Sam watched me from the sofa, my hand extended halfway to the exterior wall. “What are you doing?”

 

I shook my head, dropped my arm. “Just…seeing.” I’d feel better about leaving if everyone was safe.

 

He sat up, blankets tangled around him, his shirt askew and half-unbuttoned. “There’s something I need to tell you. Something I did at Menehem’s lab.”

 

Jodi Meadows's books