“Alright,” I reply warily.
Releasing me from his hold, he stops walking and steps back to face me. “I love you. You, Amara, and Zander are my family and you mean everything to me. I trust your judgment implicitly and I would follow you through the ends of the realms, no questions asked. That being said, there are some instances, only on occasion, when you can be just a tad bit… stupid.”
Scowling at him, I mumble, “You really need to work on your people skills.” Rubbing my head with my fingertips, I can't decide whether to be angry at him or be upset over the ding to my confidence.
He winces. “I know.” He holds his palms up in a placating gesture. “Let me explain.”
“That might be best,” I reply with a tight smile.
Tristan steeples his fingers, pressing the point to his lips. “You think there's only one path that exists for you; one that requires you to form no relationships.” He twists his mouth to the side, then adds, “Besides Amara, of course.”
“Because it does.”
Ignoring me, he continues, “You also thought you couldn't have friends, but here we are.” He gestures to Amara and Zander up ahead.
“Wellll…” I scrunch my face. “I didn't really invite any of you along. You all followed me around like a pack of stray dogs.”
“And we always will,” he replies. “This journey you're on, it's not just one set path. There's a thousand other paths you can take and still reach your destination.”
“You don't know that,” I argue, irritated with him for insinuating anything differently.
“I do. I can feel it in my bones.” He slaps a palm to his chest. “Fate is fluid and ever changing. Even yours.”
“But some things are set in stone,” I remind him with a glare.
“Yes,” he agrees. “But I believe one of those things may be Darius.”
Stunned is the only way I can describe myself in this moment. Tristan is the steady rock of our group. The calm one. The one who wrangles all our craziness. He doesn't act on emotions, he's never quick to make a decision, and he never ever wavers from our mission. If something needs to be done, he'll do it no matter how unsavory the task may be. That's what makes him such a good spy. He deals in logic and facts. So to hear from him – someone who knows what trials lay ahead for me, someone who already knows how impossible it is for me to form any type of romantic attachment – try to convince me otherwise is a jagged blade to the chest.
My lips thin. “I know you think you're being helpful, but you're not. This is cruel, Tristan.” Shaking my head, I turn away from him, striding ahead to where Amara and Zander wait.
“I wouldn't say it if I didn't believe it,” he says, rushing to my side. “This could very well be in the Stars' plan.”
Uncaring of any other souls about, I lengthen my stride and shout, “But it can't be! Not with me.”
“See?!” he says, tossing his arms up. “This is where your stupid comes in. Why can't it be you?”
I bark a humorless laugh. “Because I'm too different from him.”
Too different from everyone.
He scoffs. “You're special, I'll give you that, but you’re as much Uriella and Azazel's child as the rest of us.”
Anger rising with every word that drips from his lips, I whirl on him. “Tristan, I am a slave to the will of others. Forever bound and gagged, I’m destined to live a broken existence filled with darkness. There is nothing in my future besides death and pain. You know this!” I shout, completely flabbergasted he would suggest such a thing. “Anyone who stands beside me will suffer the same fate I do. How can you possibly ask me to bring another person into this life?”
Placing his palms on my shoulders, his brown eyes drill into my own. “Coming from a man who has already suffered alongside you, I’ll tell you that every godsdamned second was worth it if it means I can remain by your side.”
“I can't do that to him,” I whisper. Wrapping my fingers around his wrists, my eyes beg him to stop pressing the issue. “It's selfish.”
“I think it's selfish to take the choice away from him.”
“I…” My words trail off as I attempt to argue, but I hesitate at the accusation.
From my very first breath, I've never had any say on what path my life would take. Every moment of my life has revolved around the shifting demands of others. Yet all I've ever wanted is to be free to make my own choices. Good or bad, I want to live my life how I choose to. But if what Tristan says is true, then I'm doing the very same thing to Darius: taking away his choices. My intentions are noble and meant to protect him, but I'm still taking away his choices without considering his desires. And that is something I cannot do. But how can I ask someone to give up everything he knows and loves? His home, his family, possibly his very life? Or what's even more terrifying to consider, what will I do if he finds me unworthy of such a sacrifice?
“I can't tell him the truth,” I say, my mind a whirlwind of possibilities, though none I can commit to in this moment.
A slow smile creeps up Tristan’s cheeks as he places a hand on my back, rubbing circles between my shoulder blades. “No, you can't. Not yet, at least. But give him the opportunity to prove himself to you.” Ducking his head, he levels his eyes with mine as he whispers, “Give him a chance to show you he is strong enough to stand beside you.”
Shaking my head, I can't help but chuckle at his hopeful smile. “It’s so weird talking to you about this.”
“I know,” he breathes on a sigh, straightening as he drops his hand.
“That was so mushy,” I tease, stabbing my finger into his chest. “I think Aurora’s turning you into a romantic.”
“Stop it,” he says, turning away from me and striding forward.
“Aww, don’t be like that,” I call out, rushing to his side. “It's adorable.”
“Just…stop talking.” Glowering at me out of the corner of his eyes, he shoves me to the side and I laugh.
Stumbling over my feet, my laughter cuts off when the needle-like pricks intensify. Morphing into stinging pecks, it snaps along my arms and legs, gouging at my skin and drawing blood. Shutting my eyes, I stretch out my senses and sparks of life flit into view. One… two… two souls, bright and whole racing through the woods, consumed by fear. Ignoring Amara and Zander’s approach, I stretch my senses even further, my heart rate increasing when I discover a cluster of death nipping at the heels of the two terror-ridden souls.
The Soulless.
Snapping my eyes open, I look to my three companions standing before me. “The Soulless are hunting two people in the woods. Probably guards.”
“How many?” Zander asks, unsheathing his sword from its scabbard.
