Page 260 of May: Bloom & Bane

“Vaelí means clover.” His gaze drifts to the swollen curve of my belly. “That’s why… I named our daughter Vaelína.” His eyes find mine again. “Because the first name you ever gave us…” He folds the frost-kissed clover into my palm. “... was home.”

CHAPTER 81

they’re what i kept

—THERAEL

Iam standing at the edge of Andrik’s forest, where Damon and I have waited out these last unbearable hours, watching the snow for any sign of them.

“You have to stop doing that,” Damon murmurs.

I pull my burning foot back from the boundary line. “I cannot stand here and do nothing.”

Damon doesn’t bother looking at me. “The curse is destroying your flesh. How much help will you be if you’ve turned to ash before you reach him?”

I stare back into the forest. “I was supposed to protect him.”

Damon sighs. “You did.”

“Did I?”

“Have you forgotten what you sacrificed to bring him back?”

I shake my head. “There has not been a sunrise I have not felt it.”

“You didn’t save him so he would never suffer.” He pauses. “You saved him so he could choose what to do with the life you gave back.”

Pressure I have mistaken for part of my own heartbeat simply… lifts.

My foot crosses the boundary, and I wait for the familiar agony, but it never comes. My head snaps to Damon. He arches a brow.

“Well…” A smirk tugs at the corner of his lips. “What are you waiting for? Go get your boy.”

I sprint into the dark, my boots tearing through the snow. I focus on the soft clink of the gold charms in Damon’s hair. I cannot let my wings return before theirs do. As we push deeper into the heart of the forest, a familiar scent catches on the wind. I stop so abruptly Damon nearly collides with my back.

“Do you smell that?”

He lifts his head. “The blood?”

“No.” I breathe. “The clovers.”

The clearing opens before us, and the sight of what’s waiting in the middle steals the breath from my lungs. My son. Kneeling in the snow, with Eden gathered safely against him. Alive. All three of them—alive.

I crash into them at full speed, wrapping them all in my arms. I nearly send the whole tangle of us sprawling into the snow.

“My son,” I whisper, my fingers following the fractures in his flaming skull. “You did it.” I laugh through my tears. “After three thousand years… you actually did it.”

I press my forehead against his, and I weep for the first time in ages.

“Therael,” he laughs. “I hoped you would come.”

“There is nothing that could have kept me away.”

When I glance back, the smoothest, suavest god of us all is standing at the edge of our entanglement, jaw clenched, his golden eyes bright with tears.

“Not,” he says thickly, “a single word.”

“Would not dream of it, brother,” I whisper.