“I know you can see the future,” I say, knowing I don’t have much time. “Do you know about my mission? Do you know if we succeed?”
Two questions at once.
Damn it.
I bite back frustration. It’s always the same. I rush, demand too much, then run out of time before I get all the answers I need. I inhale slowly, coaching myself like Malachi does in training. Breathe. One thing at a time.
Viridian tilts her head, lips curving, not a smile but something closer to recognition.
“You want certainty,” she says, her voice soft but potent. “That is a luxury the future never offers. I can show you shadows, fragments… but whether you succeed?” Her eyes narrow, piercing mine. “That depends on who you trust and what you’re willing to sacrifice.”
“You said before I was more powerful than I realized. How do I control my power? How do I become stronger?”
She looks past me. I turn my head, but there’s nothing there, a blank wall.
“You’re holding back because you’re afraid of becoming like them. But power isn’t evil. Intention is,” she says, still not looking at me. The room warps again, then static strings appear across my vision until I rein it in and bring her back into focus.
“But what if I have to kill many to achieve a better future? Doesn’t that make me no better than them despite what the intentions are?” I ask, and she tips her head, her eyes studying me for a beat.
“Some futures are worth becoming the villain for,” she says.
I open my mouth to reply but hear my name.
“Kat?” It’s Malachi’s familiar voice. I blink, and she’s gone. The room disappears, and I’m back in my bedroom with Malachi standing in front of me, a confused expression on his face, his brows drawn together.
I get to my feet and throw my arms around his neck. “I thought you wouldn’t be back until tomorrow night!” I practically squeal, and he lifts me up into his arms. I wrap my legs around his waist and cross my feet behind him.
“I wanted to surprise you,” he murmurs, his lips curving into that crooked smile that always makes my chest ache. “Besides, I couldn’t wait another day to get back to you.”
He starts carrying me toward the bathroom. “What are you doing?”
“You look tired, and I want to take care of you. Let’s take a bath,” he says, and if I wasn’t already melting into him, I would be now, because a bath with him sounds amazing right about now.
He pauses at the bathroom door, and I lean back in his arms so I can see his face. “What’s that smirk for?” I narrow my eyes at him.
“Were you sleeping with my hoodie?” he says, holding back a laugh, and I snap my head toward the bed where I have it draped over my pillow. I can’t help that I like the way it smells.
“I was talking to it too,” I tease back, and he chuckles.
“It’s pretty much like you, only better because it doesn’t talk back,” I tell him. Indignant, he lifts me over his shoulder and carries me into the bathroom. One of my flailing legs catches him.
“Ouch,” he says dramatically, though I barely hit him. “And here I was going to run you a nice hot bath with those fancy salts you like.”
“You still are,” I say confidently, “because you missed me too much to be petty about my superior sense of humor.”
“Superior?” He sets me down on the bathroom counter and steps between my legs, his hands resting on either side of me. “I seem to remember you laughing at my jokes plenty before I left.”
“I was being polite,” I lie, trying not to smile as he leans closer.
“Polite,” he repeats, his voice dropping lower. “Is that what we’re calling it now?”
“What would you call it?” I challenge, my heart racing as he moves even closer.
“I’d call it you being completely charmed by my irresistible personality,” he says with mock seriousness.
I burst out laughing. “Irresistible? You do realize I’ve seen you try to make coffee first thing in the morning, right? There’s nothing irresistible about watching you argue with an inanimate object.”
“That coffee maker has it out for me, andyou know it.” Grinning, he reaches behind me to turn on the bath. “But I notice you didn’t deny being charmed.”
