continue the sentence. “Just let me help you,” she said softly. “I know you’re in pain—every single breath must hurt. I can’t make it go away. I don’t even know if I can make it any better. All I know is that you don’t have to be alone.”
Again, she saw it…the barest hint, just a glimpse…no matter how shattered he was, part of him still cared about her. She tried to reach out with her empathy, just to offer connection, but as soon as he sensed she was trying to touch him, the barriers slammed shut again, and that trace of softness became distant and cold.
“You can’t save me,” he said. “Stop wasting your time.”
Then, he vanished.
Miranda’s heart sank down to her feet. It wasn’t so much that she’d expected him to exclaim “My God, you’re right, let’s hold hands and cry”—it was seeing what he had become, compared to the strong, imperious creature made of leather and snark she had met that night so long ago. She’d hated him back then, but his power and allure were undeniable. He’d swept in and rescued her in Rio Verde, fought at her side. She remembered sobbing her heart out in his arms when David was dead. Waking up in what should have been a cold, empty bed without David, to find another presence beside her, the scent of sandalwood she had grown to love…pressing into the warmth of a body there only to give her comfort, knowing she might be broken, maybe forever, but she wasn’t alone. And though none of them had discussed it, she remembered the night David had made her Thirdborn, and how in her seeming delirium she had put her mouth to Deven’s and felt a surprising welcome, perhaps desire but at the very least affection. And now…
All she could do was hope that what she’d told David was right: that if she had managed to put even the tiniest chink in his armor, it would start to crack.
It was such a faint and fading hope that she found her eyes filling, and after Harlan picked her up, she cried silently in the back seat the entire trip home, wishing for the kind of healing ability she didn’t think existed…the kind that could work a miracle.
*****
David followed the Queen’s distress to the music room, where he found her sitting at her piano, arms up on the lid, head in her arms.
He laid a hand on her shoulder. “Beloved? What happened?”
Miranda looked up at him through her hair. Her eyes were red and swollen from a long cry, but dry, so it must have been on the drive home. “Babies,” she said.
David blinked. “Babies happened?”
She nodded. “I followed Deven. We talked for a minute—I tried to get through to him, and for a second I thought maybe I had. I don’t know. But…with everything he could be out there doing, every form of self-destruction at his fingertips, he’s going to Brackenridge…and healing dying babies and children. He tried to play it off like he was just doing it to make himself feel better, but I could tell it was more than that.”
David found his own heart aching, perhaps from relief, perhaps from…he had no idea. “That sounds like the Deven I knew,” he said softly. “I saw him doing it once a long time ago, but I never let on. What…what do you think it means?”
“It means he’s still in there,” she answered. “It means we can’t give up. Not yet.”
“Then we won’t give up,” David replied. Just that tiny ray of hope was like a sweet summer sunset. “We’ll find a way to reach him even if we have to start throwing sick babies at him.”
Miranda giggled in spite of herself. “That’s a horrible mental image. But it might be worth a shot.”
He brushed the hair from her eyes, and wiped the tears from her face with the cuff of his shirt. She smiled up at him, taking his hand and holding it to the side of her face. “I thought you’d like to know,” he said casually, “That Kai’s back.”
“Oh. Good.”
He was trying not to put her on the spot, but also felt compelled to ask: “So, are
Again, she saw it…the barest hint, just a glimpse…no matter how shattered he was, part of him still cared about her. She tried to reach out with her empathy, just to offer connection, but as soon as he sensed she was trying to touch him, the barriers slammed shut again, and that trace of softness became distant and cold.
“You can’t save me,” he said. “Stop wasting your time.”
Then, he vanished.
Miranda’s heart sank down to her feet. It wasn’t so much that she’d expected him to exclaim “My God, you’re right, let’s hold hands and cry”—it was seeing what he had become, compared to the strong, imperious creature made of leather and snark she had met that night so long ago. She’d hated him back then, but his power and allure were undeniable. He’d swept in and rescued her in Rio Verde, fought at her side. She remembered sobbing her heart out in his arms when David was dead. Waking up in what should have been a cold, empty bed without David, to find another presence beside her, the scent of sandalwood she had grown to love…pressing into the warmth of a body there only to give her comfort, knowing she might be broken, maybe forever, but she wasn’t alone. And though none of them had discussed it, she remembered the night David had made her Thirdborn, and how in her seeming delirium she had put her mouth to Deven’s and felt a surprising welcome, perhaps desire but at the very least affection. And now…
All she could do was hope that what she’d told David was right: that if she had managed to put even the tiniest chink in his armor, it would start to crack.
It was such a faint and fading hope that she found her eyes filling, and after Harlan picked her up, she cried silently in the back seat the entire trip home, wishing for the kind of healing ability she didn’t think existed…the kind that could work a miracle.
*****
David followed the Queen’s distress to the music room, where he found her sitting at her piano, arms up on the lid, head in her arms.
He laid a hand on her shoulder. “Beloved? What happened?”
Miranda looked up at him through her hair. Her eyes were red and swollen from a long cry, but dry, so it must have been on the drive home. “Babies,” she said.
David blinked. “Babies happened?”
She nodded. “I followed Deven. We talked for a minute—I tried to get through to him, and for a second I thought maybe I had. I don’t know. But…with everything he could be out there doing, every form of self-destruction at his fingertips, he’s going to Brackenridge…and healing dying babies and children. He tried to play it off like he was just doing it to make himself feel better, but I could tell it was more than that.”
David found his own heart aching, perhaps from relief, perhaps from…he had no idea. “That sounds like the Deven I knew,” he said softly. “I saw him doing it once a long time ago, but I never let on. What…what do you think it means?”
“It means he’s still in there,” she answered. “It means we can’t give up. Not yet.”
“Then we won’t give up,” David replied. Just that tiny ray of hope was like a sweet summer sunset. “We’ll find a way to reach him even if we have to start throwing sick babies at him.”
Miranda giggled in spite of herself. “That’s a horrible mental image. But it might be worth a shot.”
He brushed the hair from her eyes, and wiped the tears from her face with the cuff of his shirt. She smiled up at him, taking his hand and holding it to the side of her face. “I thought you’d like to know,” he said casually, “That Kai’s back.”
“Oh. Good.”
He was trying not to put her on the spot, but also felt compelled to ask: “So, are
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