Page 75 of May: Bloom & Bane

My eyebrows furrow.

“You did not feed him to ease your own pain, nor did you do it to stop the noise in your head, Eden. You did it because you cannot stand to see anyone in pain.”

He’s quiet for a long moment, his halo flickering through different hues of autumn.

“Tell me something, Eden,” he says finally. “When Sage found you sleeping in the meadow. What did he do?”

“He stayed,” I whisper.

“He stayed,” he murmurs. “He did not have to. A reaper has no obligation to the living. No instinct that says: stay, protect, watch over, keep her warm, sing her lullabies in case she can hear them.” He picks up a small stone from the ground and turns it over in his fingers.

“Sage is fighting something right now that you cannot see. Something that has nothing to do with Rasen or blood.”

He sets the stone down carefully.

“He is terrified,” Therael says quietly. “Not of losing you to a Horseman, but of losing you altogether. And there is a reason for that.”

He stands, as if yanked by something I can’t see.

“The grave negotiated today, because you asked it to. Remember that when you decide how angry to be.”

“Therael?” I ask, before he goes.

He turns, glancing at me over his shoulder.

“Can you keep my scent masked for a while longer?”

He studies me, a sad smile flashing across his face before he plucks a single cedar needle from the air.

“The meadow is a heavy shroud.” He crushes the needle between his fingers, and Sage’s scent settles over my skin like invisible silk. “He will not find you until you want to be found.”

He fades into the trees.

“But remember, Eden,” his voice echoes, sounding as if it’s coming from everywhere. “A mask only hides the face. It does not stop the heart from calling out. Eventually, the grave always finds its way home.”

Then he’s gone, and I am finally alone in the meadow. I lean my head against the tree, closing my eyes.

Why can I ease everyone’s pain but my own?

I don’t want to hurt Sage, but I can’t stand by and witness the Horsemen’s pain and not feel pulled to help.

Even that pompous War. His heart is bleeding.

I look at my wrist. The marks from Rasen’s fangs are cold now.

“I am not just a meal,” I whisper to the meadow.

CHAPTER 25

insurance

—SAGE

She left, and she took all the color from the meadow with her. The world has gone gray. It is completely silent, which is somehow worse than the chaos of just a few minutes ago.

I stand in the middle of the yard, my feet buried ankle-deep in the crater I made when I fell from the sky.

The vines at my feet slowly start to retreat, pulling back into the earth. A few leaves caress my ankles before burrowing.