“They’re afraid Menehem might have left clues for you, and they’re afraid of what would happen if you knew how to put Janan to sleep.”
“Oh. Even though I just told them it isn’t possible?” Maybe they’d seen through my lie after all. The thought made me sick and dizzy. “Anyway, how could they think I’d risk sacrificing my friends? Or you?”
For a moment, I hoped he might joke about being upset that he wasn’t my friend, but he just turned his face to the sky and sighed.
“You know I’d never risk you.” The wind nearly stole my words away. I stepped closer, heart aching. “You know I’m not like Menehem. I don’t want anyone to get hurt. I’d never do what he did. You know that, right?”
“I know.” He stared far away, cracks showing in his normally calm demeanor. They’d planted something nasty inside of him, and it was growing, bursting out. “I think they’re imagining what it might mean, you not being the only newsoul anymore. Having more has never been a possibility before, but if you knew how to do it—”
“I’d never risk you. You know how I feel.” Didn’t he? Maybe he didn’t, if I couldn’t say it. “And it seems like everyone else knows how I feel, too.” Given how often they gossiped about our relationship.
I shifted my belongings to one hand and touched his shoulder. We stood there in the middle of the walkway, underneath one of the skeletal fruit trees and a sky full of clouds. Chickens and cavies rustled in their pens, softly clucking and wheeking as they waited to be fed.
The world moved around us while I waited for him to look at me. While I waited for him to believe me.
“You know how I feel,” I repeated, heart twisting into knots. “But maybe the newsouls being born, like Lidea’s baby, won’t have the same problems I did.” I stopped myself before adding, “Still do,” but only just. He knew.
“Are you”—his words came like dread—“happy that newsouls are being born? That you’re not the only one?” His face revealed no hints of his true question.
“Yes? No?” I dropped my hands to my sides, notebook and rose still clutched in my fist. “It’s not safe for newsouls, and I’m terrified we’ll never be accepted. So no, I’m not happy they’re being born into this life. And I’m not happy that darksouls are gone. Friends, families. I did everything I could to avoid losing anyone.”
“I remember.” The words became white mist, and he didn’t look at me.
“Some souls aren’t coming back. There’s nothing we can do for them now. So in that, I am happy newsouls are being born. It’s better than no one being born.” Gooseflesh prickled over my skin as I stared at the sky, searching for answers in cloud formations. “Ever since Anid was born—since I realized I hadn’t just gotten stuck or left behind five thousand years ago—I’ve been thinking there must be a place full of souls waiting for a turn at life. Waiting and waiting, never having a chance because Janan makes someone else reincarnate instead.”
His voice turned low and careful. “And now almost eighty will have a chance. Do you think that’s a fair trade?”
“Nothing is fair. Not even souls being reincarnated for a hundred lives while newsouls never get one.”
“Well, now they’ll live, and Devon won’t. Neither will Larkin or Minn. Neither will Enna, my current mother, or four Councilors.” His voice shook with barely restrained grief. “They were here five thousand years. They were part of our lives. Julid, one of the greatest inventors, is lost forever. Rahel kept watch on Range, making sure we never overhunted, making sure the caldera wasn’t going to erupt. People who were necessary to our lives are gone. Thanks to Menehem’s meddling, the entire world has changed. You’ve tried to understand that, I know, but you can’t. Not this life. Maybe not your next, either.”
My heartbeat raced in my ears. My notebook and rose dropped, purple-blue petals vibrant against the gray stone, like paint on canvas. Shouts itched to get out, and I almost succumbed. I didn’t. He was already hurting enough.
Instead, I turned up my chin, keeping my gaze and voice steady. “If not for Menehem’s meddling, I wouldn’t be here.”
His mouth dropped and his eyes went wide. “Ana…”
I scooped up my belongings, swallowing anger. We were both right, and he knew it. There was no good answer. There was no fair answer. “Let’s just go in.” My voice rasped with tears.
Sam watched me a moment longer, then nodded and went for the door. I trailed after him, and when he sat at the piano—to work on it or practice, I wasn’t sure—I headed up the spiral staircase, through the hallway, and to my bedroom. Not even watching Sam play the piano could lift my mood right now.