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“Stress eating,” Lindsey suggested.
“That’s what I’d do,” I agreed, and thought of the carb loading I’d done at Layers. I was nervous enough now that I wasn’t hungry for anything.
Luc put an arm around my shoulders. “This will all turn out fine,” he said. “I know it’s stressful now, but this is Ethan we’re talking about. The man loves a challenge. He Commended you, after all.”
My elbow connecting with his ribs felt nearly as good as his reassurances.
* * *
When another hour had passed, and we were but an hour away from the testing, I decided it was time to enact the other part of my Amit Patel plan.
My motivation in bringing him here had been primarily selfless—finding someone whose strength would inspire Ethan, remind him of his friends and allies and the support that he’d have regardless the outcome of the trials.
But it was secondarily completely selfish. Ethan and Amit had been friends for a very long time. When I’d asked him to come, I’d thought Amit might help me break down Ethan’s walls. We’d made much progress last night—progress I was afraid we’d never make—and I’d made my choice. But there were still things to be said, worries in my heart about who Ethan was and what I still might learn.
I walked upstairs to find him. Ethan’s door was open, the office empty, as was Malik’s. I found Helen in her office a few doors down, writing in a large binder.
I tapped lightly on her door, caught the quick look of irritation when she lifted her head. “Yes, Merit?”
“Have you seen Amit, by chance?”
“I believe he wanted a look around the grounds. Said the quiet would do him good.”
“Thank you,” I said, and turned to go.
“Merit—wait.”
I looked back at her, found her face screwed up with obvious discomfort. “You did a very thoughtful thing, bringing him here. Ethan is under considerable stress, as you know, and he seems to have lightened the load considerably.”
“Thank you, Helen,” I said, and left her to her note-taking.
I found Amit outside beside the fountain, finally bubbling after a long, cold winter. His arms rested loosely on his bent knees.
He glanced up at the sound of my footsteps. “Good evening, Merit.”
“Hi, Amit.” I glanced at the fountain, the shifting of lights on water. I’d always loved that—lights on water at night. The sound of it, the hypnotic and changing sight of it.
I sat down cross-legged beside him. For a few minutes, we looked quietly at the water, watched the light reflect and bounce off its surface.
“It’s lovely out here,” he said.
“It is.”
“You’re worried about him,” Amit said, breaking the silence.
“Not worried. Just . . . concerned.” I glanced at him, took in the dark slope of nose, the dark hair, the preternaturally thoughtful eyes. “He’s been thinking a lot about his past. It’s been eating at him and, frankly, Nicole has only dredged it up. We talked last night. But he is still, in so many ways, a mystery to me.”
A corner of his mouth lifted, and he looked back at the water. “He is a complicated man. Very strong. Very loyal. Very confident.”
“Ultraconfident,” I agreed. “Probably too confident sometimes.”
“He was not always so. He fought back his own demons, as we all must do. He closed the doors of his past, and I suspect does not want to open them again.”
“Yeah. I’d agree with that.”
Amit slid me a glance. “You think he does not trust you.”
“I think he doesn’t feel comfortable unburdening himself with me. He still feels I might run.”
“And will you?”
“No,” I said, and instinctively reached for the Cadogan medal at my throat, realized I hadn’t put it on this evening, and fisted my hand, dropped it again.
Amit nodded at my answer.
“I made my choice many, many months ago. He gave his life for me, Amit. Everything else—every bit of drama in his past—pales in comparison. But what if he can’t overcome his demons?”
“He has told you of the monster that lives in the centuries behind him?”
“Of Balthasar?” I quietly asked, as if saying his name loudly might give him power. “Yes.”
“Balthasar was, for all intents and purposes, his god for many, many years. He made Ethan, in many respects, a vampire in his own image. He hasn’t attempted to hide that from you—or the fact that it impacted him. So what difference will details make?”
I opened my mouth. Closed it again. Amit was polite, but blunt.
“It won’t make me love him less. But if he doesn’t trust me . . .”
“Consider, Merit, that this has nothing to do with trust.” He glanced at me. “Have you told Ethan of every incident in your past? Every mistake? Every regret? And is your relationship worth less because of it? He is your lover, Merit, and he may very well be your partner for eternity. But he is not your father confessor, nor are you his.”
“That puts me in my place,” I admitted.
Amit patted my knee, that spark of magic jumping between us like the blue fire of static electricity.
“Each relationship is different,” he said. “Every couple must decide what works for them. For some, it is unmitigated honesty. For others, it is discretion. I think Ethan does not wish to speak too much about who he was before, for fear his past—and the desires that ruled him then—will be given power over him again. He fears those desires, that past, will destroy what you have built together.”
“You’re very wise.”
Amit smiled again, and this time there was sadness in it. “Not so wise. Just experienced. We’ve all made mistakes, Merit. I am no exception.” He looked at me, head tilted, as if puzzling me out. “I think you have changed him, just as he has changed you.”
“Yes, to both. For better and worse.”
This time, Amit laughed from the belly, fully and with gusto. “Truer words, Merit.” When he was done laughing, he wiped at his eyes. “Now that we’ve had our fun, I’ve a favor to ask you.”
I nodded. An enormous and endearing smile dawned on his face. “I am absolutely starving. Perhaps we could find something to eat?”
Finally, something I was actually good at.
* * *
I led Amit to the kitchen, introduced him to Margot, and, when I was assured they’d get along fine, headed back to the stairs to grab my Cadogan medal from our apartments.
