“Since the moment you walked outside,” he told her honestly.
She continued facing him as she leaned her arm against the ledge of the ship. “Even though we’re supposed to stay away from each other, you somehow always manage to be near,” she teased.
“Can you blame me?”
“This trip has proven to be excruciatingly long,” she sighed, turning back to peer across the dark waves.
“I agree completely,” he said from right beside her.
She slid him a look. His hair was disheveled, fluttering in the wind as he gazed down at her. “You are breaking the rules,” she warned, though she was secretly glad he was near.
“Are you really surprised?” He grinned.
“No, but the last thing we need is another hydra attack,” she pointed out.
He didn’t leave, instead studying her profile. “Something is off with you,” he determined.
“I cannot seem to rest.”
“Oh?” She saw his concerned expression out of the corner of her eye.
“I’ve been dreaming about the past,” she clarified.
“As have I,” he admitted with a sigh. “I believe it is because we are all together, traveling closer to the place from where we originated. The memories have been quite vivid.”
She was relieved to hear she wasn’t alone, though the thought of Lucius reliving their tumultuous past unnerved her. “We do not have the most pleasant of histories.”
“Do you remember anything from the time your soul was tied to Delicia, when you were the vampyre Morgana?” he asked.
She frowned, loathing to recall the centuries she spent battling over the body she shared with a madwoman. “Yes, but it is a hazy recollection at best.”
“David claims I lost my mind when I burned down the Library of Alexandria, but I still clung on to my hope for humanity after that. I helped establish the Sorbonne in Paris, remember?”
Morrigan suddenly recalled the freshly paved streets of the burgeoning medieval city and the sounds of church bells echoing from within Gothic cathedrals, drowning out the squawks of the seagulls who lingered above the Seine River. She could see the Louvre fortress, could picture the enormous domed edifice that would one day become the University of Paris. “The 13th century,” she remembered. “You taught astronomy there.”
He beamed. “While simultaneously corrupting young minds with my blasphemous ideas,” he added. “The rector detested me.”
Morrigan continued to piece together that time, when David had left on one of his solo excursions to Italy, leaving her alone with Lucius to ravage the city like the deplorable blood drinkers they once were. She startled when her thoughts ended at their townhouse, realizing the importance of that time in their lives.
“Lucius…” she warned him.
“I’m not trying to seduce you,” he promised with a chuckle. “Not yet, anyway. I think I was dreaming of that particular time in our lives because that was the closest I was to remembering who you really were. You swore it was Delicia’s aspect that wanted me back then, but in those moments, I felt you trying to find me again.”
Morrigan was quiet, unnerved by the revelation. She hadn’t realized it then, but he was right. She could almost picture his expression when he walked in the door of their townhouse, surprised to see her waiting for him.
“I thought for sure you’d be traveling with David,” he’d remarked.
“Then who would you sleep with while I was gone?” she had replied with a mischievous grin.
He’d been so pleased that he attacked her where she stood, the two of them engaging in what they considered lovemaking back then, ending up naked, breathless, and wearing each other’s blood and sweat on the wood floor.
“I hate this city, Lucius,” she told him after they caught their breath. “I want fresh air again. And trees.”
He leaned on his elbow to study her face. “Both your eyes are blue,” he remarked.
She looked away, flustered. “What does that have to do with anything?”
He rolled on top of her, so she was forced to face him. “It means that, in this moment, you are Morrigan. In fact, since we came to Paris, I’ve noticed you overpower Delicia, depending on what you’re doing.”
She shoved him off her, furious at what he implied. “You are a fool,” she fumed, grabbing for her clothes. “We are braided souls—one cannot overpower the other.”
He merely smiled from where he lay on the floor. “Morrigan likes fresh air and trees.”
“Morgana likes war,” she insisted. “There are wars in Scotland.”
“Scotland.” He wrinkled his nose. “Is that where you want to go?”
She pulled her underdress over her head. “Well, I know you will never let us return to Ireland after what happened between David and me.”
“Ah ha,” Lucius flew up where she stood, locking his arms around her waist. “You are Morrigan right now.”
“I am hungry,” she told him, refusing to acknowledge his assertion. “Let us go kill some supper.”
The present Morrigan let the memory fade as a new revelation dawned on her. It was she who had driven herself mad at the end, by constantly forcing Delicia away until she could no longer control the switch of her personalities. It was all her own doing. She shivered, though the air was warm.
Lucius took her long silence as denial. “Wishful thinking, anyway,” he said, joining her gaze across the rolling water before his flickered back up to the sky.
She wrestled her thoughts away from that horrible time in her life, joining him in drinking in the night. They stood in comfortable silence, listening to the waves, as close to each other as they could without touching. Finally, Morrigan murmured thoughtfully, “He might own the bright sun and clouds, but you own the night and its stars. Sharing the same space, but never at the same time.”
