Page 117 of May: Bloom & Bane

“What?”

“Eden chose him. Not Therin. Not Micah. Sage.” His markings pulse brightly one last time. “She did not fall in love with who he was. She fell in love with who he truly is. That has to count for something.”

CHAPTER 35

our own eden

—EDEN

Part of me feels lighter than it ever has, but another part, the part waiting for the other shoe to drop, can’t stop thinking about Sage having visions of another woman.

When he came in from his talk with Therael, he looked hollowed out. He could barely keep his eyes open, not uttering a single word as he crawled into bed. His wings draped over the side of the mattress, and he studied every inch of my face until he finally fell into a deep sleep.

I want to join him, but my mind and heart are at war. A soft knock at the door pulls me out of my thoughts. I glance at Sage, still sleeping with one arm thrown over his eyes. I slip out of bed as quietly as I can, the floorboards warming beneath each of my footsteps.

I crack the door open, and Therael is standing there holding a small cloth bag in one hand.

“The tincture,” he says quietly.

My head tilts in confusion. “What is it supposed to do?”

“It will help him sleep.” His eyes flick past me, toward the bed where Sage is snoring softly. “When he wakes back up, his visions should ease. The headaches will stay away for a while.”

“For how long?”

He hesitates long enough to know he’s keeping something from me.

“As long as possible.”

“What do I do with this?”

“Sprinkle it over his face tonight while he’s asleep. You should notice a difference immediately.”

I take the bag from his palm. It’s heavier than it looks and smells both sweet and tranquil. “Use it anytime he gets another migraine.”

“Thank you for helping him,” I whisper. “Do you think he’s going to be okay?”

He nods once, his halo casting eerie shadows across the porch.

“He has you,” he says softly. “That’s more than he’s ever had before.”

The air around him begins to smell of turning leaves.

“Where do you go when you leave here?” I blurt out.

He pauses, and without looking back at me, he answers. “I return to a promise that does not survive the night.”

With a soft, wooshing sound, he’s gone. The porch is empty, and the air settles back into the stillness of dusk.

I step inside and swing the door closed when a huge hand cuts in at the last minute, barring the door. The wood groans under the pressure.

Behind me, Sage jolts awake.

“Eden—”

The door explodes outward, knocking the four figures off the porch.

“You mated her,” War says, his voice booming across the meadow. “So tell me, Reaper⁠—”