And that was part of the problem.
I had thought I had it all figured out before in Imdalind when Sain and I had fought our way past Edmund’s army. I had thought I had managed to find a middle ground between the person I was for the centuries when I did Edmund’s bidding, when I smuggled information for Ilyan, and the person I had been for the last hundred years with Talon.
Nevertheless, there were too many parts of me now to have anything be that easy—the part that killed for sex and money, hunted, spied on my own people for centuries; the mother, the mourner, the lover; the part that loved Talon; the part that loved Thom.
Sitting here with Thom, in the room I had decorated with Talon, was making that abundantly clear in that irritating, “pretending REO Speedwagon is a decent band” kind of way.
I was sitting amongst band posters and brightly colored comforters, a life that felt unfamiliar, while staring at the man who owned my heart long before I had taunted the shadowed figure behind the tree.
I sat, looking at the way Thom’s lips twitched as they always had, seeing the bright blue of his eyes that were so much more expressive than Ilyan’s ever could be. I was having trouble finding the line between all the different parts and lives of me.
“I’m sorry, Wynifred,” Thom whispered into the dark chill of the room, his eyes not deviating so much as a millimeter from mine.
I jumped at his voice while the sky cracked with light again. My body ached at the quick movement, a groan escaping like a slow leak. Everything hurt.
While I was grateful for whatever Jos had done to save my life, it also seemed to be the equivalent of getting hit by a Mack truck covered in protruding knives. And probably a herd of deer following. I was sure, if I looked close enough, I would find a few hoof shaped bruises.
“Why?” I regretted the question the second I asked it. I regretted the way my voice snapped as it always had and the anger that flowed freely behind that one word.
I opened my mouth to apologize, to take it back, but Thom only smiled at me, his bright white teeth flashing in a straight line behind slightly chapped lips. I started at the response, my heart beating fast in confusion before it sunk in—the reason for his smile, and why my knee-jerk reaction seemed so comfortable to him.
It was me.
The me he knew, anyway.
The knowledge only made my stomach flip, my body shaking in exhaustion as I looked toward the faded poster I had purchased on the Fleetwood Mac world tour.
“They said you had changed.” Calm washed through me at the slight laugh in his voice, the familiarity seeping deep into my bones. “I’m glad to see it’s not too much.”
“I have changed.” My voice was distant as I my focus dodged from the faded poster to the goofy picture of Talon and I that had been framed in the 70s, back when every picture came out sepia toned and far too yellow. We looked like we had taken a bath in yellow mud, and it didn’t quite wash off.
I stared at that picture with the calm rhythm of Thom’s breathing the only sound in the room.
It was true. I had changed. There was no denying that. However, it was more than that. More than just someone growing up, learning more about themselves and how to survive within society.
“I had a different life … a hundred years…” My voice faded away as I looked from the picture back to Thom who still looked at me with unexplained awe in his eyes, as if I was back from the dead. Of course, I guess that was true no matter which way you spun it.
The thought sent a shiver of tension up my spine, picturing the image of Talon standing in the white shadows of my dream.
“Ilyan told me,” Thom’s voice cut through the dark as he shifted his weight, the old bed frame creaking under the movement. “Right after it happened, he told me about how you forgot everything, how you fell in love with Talon…”
“He fell in love with me, too.” The words were out before I could stop them, as if they had a life of their own and needed to be heard, as though I needed Thom to understand.
I did.
I needed him to understand.
Saying I had changed was one thing, but with our past, we couldn’t pick up where we had left off. There was no way that would happen.
“I’m not surprised. You’re easy to fall in love with.”
A laugh with a sound far too rich mixed with the smugness I always had. The parts blended together in a way that almost seemed psychotic to me. Thom seemed to think so, too. His hands tightened around themselves as he leaned away from me, as if he would run away from me at any moment. There was the reaction I had been expecting a minute ago.
The thought only made me laugh more.
“That’s rich, seeing as making people fall in love with me used to be the last thing they would remember.”