“Agreed.” He hadn’t even heard how the Highest spoke about her. I had no doubts at all about how quickly they’d dismiss any appeals I made.
Had Sorsha wanted to save both of us from each other, or only to protect Thorn in case I savaged him beyond repair? I hadn’t been aiming for that, had only wanted to force him to surrender, but in the heat of battle, one’s intentions didn’t always carry through. She could have taken the gamble, hoping that he’d best me, free her, and convey her to safety…
But whatever chance she’d seen of escape, she’d decided it was worth less than the chance of losing Thorn. Possibly even of losing me to his blows, though darkness only knew why she’d care about that after the way I’d treated her over the past two days.
The past two days? That was the least of it. What about the past month?
I’d cut her only the tiny portion of slack my unexpected respect for her had demanded, and I’d reproached myself for every bit of that, thinking it was emotional weakness. But perhaps she’d been right that day when my frustration had boiled over into passion—when she’d told me there was more strength in owning one’s emotions than burying them.
Over and over, I’d told myself that I shouldn’t allow myself to be impressed by her or desire her. That no matter what I saw, her mortal frailty would come through and screw us over when it mattered most. And here I was with her words still ringing in my ears, hearing her take a greater stand and making a greater sacrifice than I’d ever been willing to do with all the amends I’d tried to make to my kind.
Who the hell was I to judge a woman willing to lay down her life to spare our pain?
Yes, she’d risked her life plenty of times in her capers to free captive shadowkind and during our missions. Somehow I’d managed to dismiss all that as adventure-seeking rather than generosity. But there was no adventure to be had in lying down at the mercy of the most inhumane—and inhuman—of all shadowkind. That was pure, selfless sacrifice.
I couldn’t shake the sense that at least some small part of it was for my benefit. I might be adept at pretending away my own emotions, but I couldn’t deny the compassion I’d seen cross her eyes when I’d spoken of my ties to the Highest and the consequences that would come from defying them.
Did I really think a woman with that much valor and forgiveness in her would allow herself to cause some global act of destruction? By the looks of things, she’d sooner throw herself on my claws than let herself spiral anywhere near that far out of control.
“Omen,” Thorn started again, but I stopped him with a gesture.
“Stop fretting. I’m not turning her over to the Highest.”
He paused, his stern face so befuddled in that moment it was almost amusing. “But she— You were adamant— What in the worlds were we fighting over if you had no intention—”
“I did intend,” I said tersely. “Then she proved how far she’ll go just to spare the two of us from pain. It’s a little hard to continue believing she could possibly exterminate us all after that, don’t you think?”
Thorn scowled. “I don’t fully understand why she made that offer either. I would have subdued you and freed her, given enough time…” He glowered at me as if daring me to argue about his combat prowess.
I patted one of his massive arms. “Don’t be a grouch about it. You’re getting the outcome you wanted, and it didn’t even require any near-fatal wounds—for either of us, which I’m especially glad of.”
“She should have seen I wouldn’t have come all this way or forced the issue with you if her survival hadn’t been more important than a few battle wounds.”
The furrows on the wingéd’s forehead deepened. No doubt he still couldn’t understand why I’d considered turning Sorsha over in the first place. What could he attribute it to other than the frequent clashes between us? I might have made demands of her that, I’d admit, looked petty in retrospect, but I’d never been anywhere near that vindictive toward her—or anyone, in ages.
But explaining my reasoning would mean revealing the leash I’d allowed the Highest to fix around my neck, the way I’d abased myself to save my life, and the thought of doing that sent a far deeper jab of revulsion through me than the possibility that the wingéd might see me as overly callous. It’d been hard enough admitting it to Sorsha. Thorn would have a far clearer understanding of just what my deal had required of me.
Thorn wasn’t the type to dwell on minor conflicts anyway, not when he’d had such a huge transgression of his own weighing on him for so long. After a moment, he shook his head. “You’re right. If we’re agreed to protect her from the Highest’s plans, that’s all that matters. Then we’d better go—”
The peal of my phone interrupted him. Maybe remembering what had gone down the last time that ringtone had split the air, Thorn cut himself off into an uneasy silence.
I hadn’t been expecting a call… just like I hadn’t been last time. Tempest didn’t enjoy being ignored. As I pulled the phone out of my pocket, I braced myself, anticipating the blank screen and all that would follow.
The thought of hearing her needling voice carrying from the speaker again made me want to hurl the phone into the depths of the canyon. But I knew better than anyone that my former co-conspirator wasn’t a problem you could expect to just go away. Even when a horde of immensely powerful beings went to extreme lengths to ensure she was battered out of existence, somehow she was still here, playing out another of her gleefully malicious schemes.
I hit the answer button and held the phone a good foot away from me, remembering how loudly she’d projected her remarks through it two days ago. “For someone who hid her existence from me for the better part of six centuries, you seem awfully eager to chat all of a sudden, Tempest.”
Her voice slithered out in a languid tone I knew better than to believe. “I simply wanted to confirm you hadn’t met some sudden calamity after we last spoke. Have you become a much slower traveler in your old age?”
“I haven’t started traveling yet,” I said. “Funny thing—when you drop out of the blue into someone’s life, they often have prior affairs they need to take care of first.”
“And here I thought meddling with the Company of Light was your largest concern at the moment. I have all the answers you need on that subject.”
“Yes, well, for all your sphinxly wisdom, you never did manage to know everything. How many guesses did it take you to get my phone number right, hmm?”
She would have managed to hit on the right one with a guess—plucking the correct answer to anything remotely like a riddle out of thin air was as much a talent of hers as coming up with riddles designed to confound was. It wasn’t an exact science, though. I’d be willing to stake my tail that she’d gotten at least ten wrong numbers before she’d heard my voice on the other end of the line.
That suspicion was born out by the irritation that crept into her tone while she dodged that question. “You sound displeased with me. No rejoicing at the chance for us to join forces again? Have you forgotten what a good run of it we had long ago?”
I hadn’t at all, and that was the problem. The question sent a slimy sensation down my spine as if she’d trailed decaying seaweed over my back. Sorsha might call me a bastard now, but what a bastard I’d truly been back then—not ice-cold but searingly sadistic, as selfish when it came to indulging my disdain for mortals as that mortal woman had proven herself the opposite moments ago.