Fate Undone (The Mythean Arcana Series Book 5) (26 page)

Sylvi turned her head to look at the flame. He pulled all the power he had within him to locate Freya and show her to Sylvi. Spying on other gods required a large draw of power because they usually shielded themselves from prying eyes with their own magic. But spying was one of his specialties, honed over years of practice. It wasn’t difficult to find Freya meditating in her garden.

Sylvi gasped softly when her mother appeared in the flame, a shimmering image of a blue-cloaked woman with flowing blond hair. She sat cross-legged in the grass, her eyes closed and a serene smile on her face. A raven stood in the grass near her.

“She looks the same,” Sylvi said softly.

“They all do,” he said. “We do.”

“I know. I suppose I just thought she’d look different to me after all these years.”

“Because you feel differently about her?”

“Maybe.” She peered hard at the image, then jerked her head away. “I’ve seen enough.”

He collapsed the flame, letting it disappear into nothingness. Annoyance surged through him at her unwillingness to even try to move past her anger.

“You know, Sylvi, you really need to—”

“Thank you.”

That shut him up.

“I mean it,” she said. “Thank you for showing me Freya.”

“You forgive her?”

“No. I don’t think I can. But it was nice to see her again. Honestly, I’ve no idea how I feel and with the labyrinth, I don’t have time to think about it now. But thank you for showing her to me.”

“No problem. Pay me back by working on forgiving her.”

“Later. For now, I’d rather talk about the Retaliator. I’m already a lot better and I want to be prepared to end this thing when I’m well enough to get out of bed.”

“You’ll take it easy.” They needed to get to work destroying the labyrinth, but one more day of rest wouldn’t stop them from doing that.

“Don’t tell me what to do! That’s the whole reason I’m pissed at you. I make my own damn decisions. Quit trying to protect me.”

She drove him up the damn wall sometimes. “Of course I’m always going to try to protect you. Not because I don’t think you can do it yourself. You can. But I can’t help myself. I want your life to be good.”

“Let me decide what I want. And what I want is to destroy this damn labyrinth.”

“Fine. When you’re well.”

She nodded. “Do you have the metal lump Warren took from the retaliator? The one that looked like a heart?”

He got up and left the room, eventually returning with the lump of strange metal in his hands. He handed it to her.

Sylvi took the heart from Logan, surprised by how extraordinarily heavy it was. Though she couldn’t decipher the writing or designs—it actually reminded her of a labyrinth—she did get a big hit of magic off of it.
 

“I’m surprised it wasn’t destroyed by your flame. You got lucky that you didn’t toast this,” she said.

He nodded. “I think the magic protected it. And whatever kind of metal it’s made of.”

“How the hell did you get out of those chains?” she asked.

“When I saw him hurting you, I lost it. When you were near death, I found strength I didn’t know I had.”

Her hands faltered and dropped to her lap. The heart of the Retaliator sat like a stone and she stared at it.

Holy hell. He really did still care about her. He’d said it, but this was something else entirely. And she had no idea what to do about it. So she did what she did best and tried to ignore it.

“Do you know anything about the heart?” she asked.

“I think it’s the Retaliator’s soul.”

Sylvi shivered. “What?” His soul should be long gone to wherever it was that gods’ souls went when they were killed. Sometimes it was the hell of their belief system where they joined the ranks of deceased mortals. Sometimes they just disappeared. But to be formed into a metal heart? “What kind of magic made this? I feel it, but I don’t understand it.”

“Something dark. I don’t think the writing on it is a real language. When Thoreas was a god, his worshipers didn’t have written language. I think it’s the language of his soul. It’s the essence of the god of time. All his power is stored in this. If one could operate it—maybe you, since you can feel the magic in it—then it could be used to harness and focus the god of time’s power.”

“You can’t operate it?”

“I don’t have that type of magic. I can do no more than determine what it is.”

She looked back at the heart. He was right. This was her specialty. His was more of the clever plots and utter destruction of his enemies, usually through massive displays of power and cunning. Her skill was subtler—though she could bash some heads in with her staff—and more of the traditional, spell casting variety.

“I suspect it could work like the wind of time, but stronger,” Logan said.
 

Sylvi’s brows rose. Some beings—like herself and the soulceresses Esha and Aurora—had the ability to utilize the wind of time, a spell that advanced time drastically until hundreds of years passed in seconds. Whatever the wind touched would be affected.

“How do you know about that?” Sylvi asked. It was a fairly well-kept secret spell, as it was immensely dangerous.

“I was caught in it once,” Logan said. “Ian saved me. It’s how we met.”

She hefted the heart in her hands, squinting at the language engraved into its stylized curves and edges. “I think it could destroy the labyrinth. If it was operated by a witch or sorceress who can control the wind of time, then it could be used to accelerate even the wind.”

“Until something as large as the labyrinth crumbles to dust,” Logan said.
 

A thrill of excitement surged through Sylvi. This could be their answer. “I’ll deploy it of course.”

Logan’s gaze whipped to her. “No, you—” He snapped his mouth shut. “Fine. You should do it.”

A deep scowl cut across Logan’s face. She knew he’d wanted to tell her she couldn’t because it was too dangerous, but he’d stopped himself. Why? To prove that he wasn’t trying to be such an arrogant know-it-all who would let her make her own decisions?

“We’ll ask your friends for backup,” he added.

Her gaze shot up to meet his. This was the first time he’d suggested seeking help from someone else. She reminded herself not to look too deeply into it or anything else.

“I’m going to sit here a while and try to get a handle on the magic in this thing,” she said. “Why don’t you invite everyone over?”

“Not yet. You need to heal some more. It’s nearly eight at night now. Rest, then we’ll convene tomorrow.”

“I’m fine.” She shifted to get out of bed to show him how fine she was and had to stifle a groan of pain. “Okay, I’m not fine. But I should be fine tomorrow night.” They still had a week until it was complete, so they had time, right?

“All right.”

She glanced down at the metal in her hands and said the words she really didn’t want to. “I would be able to do this better if I could be out under the stars.”

He nodded and surged to his feet. She was grateful she hadn’t had to ask him to carry her—he’d just known. At the time when she wanted to get away from him the most, she was too weak to do anything by herself.
 

And maybe she didn’t want to get away from him all that badly.
 

He grabbed the sweater that was draped over the dresser and handed it to her.

“Thanks.” She tugged it on.

He draped the throw that was on the foot of her bed over his shoulder, then picked her up. She flinched slightly at the soreness that streaked through every inch of her.

“Sorry.” His voice was rough and his gaze pained as it ran over her body. He carried her carefully out onto her lawn. “Where to?”

She pointed to a small hill about twenty yards distant. A lone oak rose from the gently rolling summit. He carried her there, clearly careful to limit any jostling, then lowered her to her feet.

After he’d spread the blanket out, she sat atop it cross-legged and said, “You don’t have to stay out here.”

“I will.” He walked over to the tree and leaned against the trunk.

Sylvi tried to ignore his too-near presence while she directed her attention to the heavy lump of strange metal in her hand. She drew her staff from the aether to aid her magic, but her attention remained partially on Logan.

It took her countless deep breaths and all her focus, but eventually the magic in the heart vibrated beneath her palm, strong and steady.

Just like making her way through a labyrinth, she had to focus on unraveling the signature of the magic, finding her way around it until she could combine it with her own power over the wind of time.
 

She discovered that the heart wasn’t just the Retaliator’s soul. In a sense, it was also the heart of the labyrinth. It had the power to create as well as to destroy, if only she could use it in the right way.

Finally, she was exhausted and achy and thought she had enough of a handle on the heart that she could take a break. She opened her eyes and stretched.

Logan was at her side in an instant. “Are you all right?”

“Fine,” she said, trying not to be moved by the worry in his eyes.

“Ready to go back in?”

She nodded and he helped her to her feet. Though all her bones felt mended and steady, her muscles ached like she was in the middle of a bad flu. She was sure she looked like some type of woodland creature—not the cute kind—and smelled like one, too.

She sure could use a bath.

Logan grabbed the blanket, then swept her up into his arms and asked, “How about I draw you a bath when we get back?”

His timing was too perfect. She almost groaned in anticipation. Instead, she tried to say cooly, “That would be lovely. Thank you.”

It didn’t take him long to carry her from the hill to her house. He sat her on her bed and disappeared through the door to draw the bath. She wanted to get up and walk into the bathroom, but when she tried to stand, her thighs trembled so badly she collapsed back onto the bed.

This sucked. It looked like she’d be staying here until he came to get her.

He appeared in the doorway moments later and made his way to her.

“I can walk if you’ll just help me—”

“You can’t,” he said and swept her up into his arms.

The feebleness that pervaded her muscles agreed with his statement. She clung to him, hating her weakness but loving his strength.

Fitting into the tiny bathroom together was tight, but he maneuvered her until she sat on the toilet seat. By now, her muscles felt like they were made of melted wax and her eyelids were drooping.
 

Still, she pushed at him and said, “Go. I can do this.”

“You’re dead on your feet. I won’t look. Let me help you.”

“No.” She pushed him again, but ruined it by swaying.

“Just let me take care of you, damn it.”

“Why?”

“Because I want to, all right? I want to take care of you for the rest of your damn life because I care for you.”

That shut her up. His determination, combined with the jelly-like state of her muscles, made her realize that this was a lost cause. And she wanted this bath so very badly.

“Fine. Don’t look.”

He averted his eyes as he gently undressed her, but his jaw was clenched. His big hands skimmed over her flesh, raising goose bumps in their wake that made her shiver. He was careful as he lifted her and placed her in the steamy water.

The most sublime sensation of comfort rushed over her as the warm water enveloped her. She wanted to soak in here forever, washing away the sticky filth of her journey to Svalbard and the aches in her muscles. The pleasure carried her away on a cloud.

Eventually, she noticed that Logan sat on the ground next to the tub, his back against the wall and his eyes on the ceiling. In the past, he’d always been what she needed him to be. Calm when she needed calm, strong when she needed strong, playful when she needed reminding that there was more to life than just her goals.

She needed to remember her anger with him, but she couldn’t. She’d nearly died and the last thing she’d thought of was him. No matter what bad might come or how he might hurt her, she was going to throw herself at him like a moth to flame. She couldn’t stop herself.