Page 60 of May: Bloom & Bane

The house seals behind them with a sigh. I place a precautionary barrier spell. I don’t need Sage or Ashán to hear what’s about to happen.

I turn back to the meadow and wait.

He always makes me wait.

Deep purple shadows bleed into black, billowing low across the ash-covered grass as he floats slightly above the ground.

His expression tells me he’s enjoying this far too much. His eyes, molten gold, flick to the barrier I placed over the house. A slow, knowing smirk tugs at his mouth.

“Worried I may say something too… revealing, brother?” He chides.

I pinch the bridge of my nose.

The shadows at his heels coil upward like starving vipers.

“Vhilshen,” I mumble under my breath.

“You say that like it isn’t a term of endearment at this point.” He puckers his lips, blowing me a mock kiss.

He finally lands, one foot touching the ash as if he’s doing it a favor.

“Miss me?” He hums enthusiastically.

“Every single time you leave,” I reply flatly. “I think, perhaps, this will be the time he will stay gone. And every single time⁠—”

“I come back,” he finishes. He flashes me a bright smile. The one that has absolutely no business being so disarming on the face of someone this insufferable. “Because you love me.”

“Because you are a vhilshen.”

“Same thing.”

“So—” His eyes melt from gold into something darker than the void between stars. “Have you told the kid yet?”

My eyes flick in the opposite direction, the barrier humming softly over the house, keeping the secrets of Zevrøn‡ out, where they belong. (All six gods collectively)

Damon waits silently for my answer, which is how I know he’s being serious; Damon doesn’t wait for anything. The fact that he’s giving me this silence means he already knows the answer and is simply offering me the dignity of saying it myself.

“No,” I say finally.

“Therael.”

“He is not ready.”

“He sealed a partial bond—” Damon says carefully. “Fought off four Horsemen. Shifted half-reaper, and is currently learning to root his power in a girl who’s been awake for seventy-two hours. Normally that kind of skill takes years to hone, Ther.” He pauses. “At what point does ready happen exactly?”

The shadows at his feet curl and uncurl restlessly.

“It is not fair,” I say finally. The words taste bitter on my tongue.

Something shifts in Damon’s expression, his practiced aloofness cracking at the edges.

“Nothing’s fair, Therael. You and I know that better than anyone.”

The words hang heavily between us. We don’t speak of our own situations anymore, but it’s always there. In the space between words. Two gods standing in the ruins of someone else’s love story, carrying the weight of not being able to save their own.

“How do I explain that to him after all we have put him through?” I ask quietly. “That he may have to reap the soul of his true mate while she’s carrying their ømi‡?” (Baby) I can barely get the question out.

The shadows stop moving entirely.