She waves a dismissive hand. “Anyway, I’ll gripe about medieval hygiene later. The point is—he had a real life and at times a rough one from the way he tells it. He wasn’t just birthed from God’s brain, like poof, you're a gorgeous immortal badass.” She flicks her fingers open like she’s performing a magic trick. “Poof, you’re a Horseman. Poof, you’re an archangel. Poof, you’re a cupid. Go shoot someone in the ass.”
“Did he tell you how he was remade?”
A frown has the dimple on her right cheek turning into a divot. “No. Shit, I forgot to ask about that part.” She shrugs. “Put it on the list for next time.”
I point at her mouth again until she raises the napkin to swipe it over her face. “How did he die?”
Her voice softens. “He glossed over that part quite a bit. Talked of a war between clans and betrayal within the family that set everything off. He got lost in his thoughts for some time and simply said, ‘Greed and power can corrupt and bring down even the most noble of families.’ Then he changed the subject.”
She pops more muffin into her mouth like that sentence didn’t carry centuries of grief. Before swallowing, she goes on talking, and muffin bits fly out as her words do. “He wanted to kno?—”
I shake my head. “Chew first.”
She freezes and rolls her eyes dramatically, but obeys.
“I swear,” I add, watching her with mock severity, “one of these days you’re going to choke when I’m not around.”
She grins once she’s swallowed. “Please. You’d feel it in your soul and come sprinting through the woods like some feral forest mom.”
I snort despite myself.
She leans back in her chair, one hand returning to her belly, expression softening for just a moment. “He’s not what I expected.” Her head sways to the side. “Not completely.”
We’re all more than we might appear.
“I honestly kind of like him. You know, if he wasn’t so dead set on ending the world and all of that. I really don’t want to see that happen. I’m kind of looking forward to meeting this little warrior of mine.”
“Warrior, huh?”
“Yes. He’s got a mean right hook already, and his kicks when he gets going are insane. When he’s full-grown, he’ll give those Horsemen a run for their money. Right here.” She points at a spot low on her belly. “Feel it and tell me I’m wrong.”
I laugh and reach forward. She moves her hand, and I replace it with mine, feeling carefully until a solid kick greets my palm. A second follows almost immediately.
“A warrior,” I agree softly. “Or an athlete.”
“A warrior,” she insists. “You’ll train him, and he’ll be the best there ever was. Like Hercules. Or Achilles.”
A wide smile spreads across my face. “If we’re allowed that time, I’ll definitely train him.”
“And I’ll teach him how to cook,” she adds. “He’ll be any woman’s kryptonite. Handsome, deadly, and a master of pastries.” She lets out a girlish giggle, and it pulls a laugh from me in return.
I shake my head as she keeps talking, because the way Lila has bounced back from everything she’s endured says so much about how she was raised and who she was raised by. It speaks to her strength of character, her resilience. Even now, she still chooses to see good in the world. To hope for better days, though they’re not promised to any of us. To believe in people, even after she’s witnessed the worst of mankind.
Something I could stand to learn from.
I’ve judged Orán by his words alone and by the old scripture that paints him in a horrible light. And while we stand on opposite sides of what must be done, he isn’t the monster I expected him to be. He’s been honest with me. It’s just that we have very different opinions on how the future should unfold.
I have to remember that there may still be hope of changing his mind.
And I intend to try.
Chapter Thirty-One
Lives Worth Saving
Eridessa
Six months ago
