Because he thought that was what I wanted to hear?
No. As I studied him, his expression shifted like shadows on darkness. Memory. “What happened? Did he do something to you?”
“No.” Sam laid the rose back on the desk, voice deepening. “He’s never done anything awful to me, or to anyone else. He’s one of the best souls in Heart.”
“So what is it?” Maybe I didn’t want to know, but the question was out.
Sam strode toward the window, where he did not answer me, just gazed outside like he’d rather be anywhere else.
Tough. Surely I deserved some answers. I followed him, but paused when I noticed him leaning his forehead on the exterior wall. Paintings and furniture covered most of it, but here by the window was a clear spot. And he’d touched it. For comfort? Revulsion shuddered through me, and his worn expression made me bite back my questions about his relationship with Cris. For now.
“If Cris can’t help me with some of these symbols,” I said, “I have to go back into the temple and look for clues. Maybe Janan will answer me.”
“No.” Sam gripped my arm.
I looked up so sharply my neck stung.
“Ana.” His jaw clenched and his voice pulled taut. “Don’t you understand that I love you?”
I recoiled. Why would he ask that? “Apparently I’m too stupid to understand.”
“You’ve told me how terrible it was in there and—” He paused, looking frantic while he searched for memories. He had enough difficulty remembering I’d been in there; anything more was almost impossible. “You can’t even bear this wall, let alone standing next to the temple. How would you manage inside?”
Confusion flashed in his eyes—perhaps the question of how I would get in, because he couldn’t remember the key I carried—and his grip tightened painfully around my arm. I wrenched myself away.
He must have realized he’d hurt me, because he held his hands before him in surrender. “Sorry. I’m sorry.” He said it as a lament, breathing hard and staring at his hands like he didn’t know whose they were. “If you want to go, I can’t stop you. I won’t try. But I will go with you.”
“Thank you,” I whispered. I had never imagined anyone could feel that strongly about me. “Because I’d rather not go alone.”
He lifted one hand, hesitated, and caught my chin to tilt up my face.
Our eyes met, and everything inside of me twisted.
His thumb slid along my jaw while his forefinger held me up. If I spoke, I’d nudge his hand off me. I closed my eyes and let my head drop back as he slid his palms across my cheeks and into my hair.
His mouth was warm and soft. We kissed like a bow and violin strings. I wasn’t sure who was which, but we made a melody that lasted only a breath.
He pulled away a fraction. “I didn’t mean to start fights.”
“I know.” I kissed him again, my fingertips grazing the smooth skin of his jaw. His cheeks, his throat, his ears. Barely-there touches that made him shiver and sigh.
“I lived ten lifetimes in that kiss, and it still wasn’t enough.” He tucked a strand of my hair behind my ear. “I was weak in the Council chamber, after you left. They knew just how to exploit all my insecurities.”
“Is that an excuse?”
“No.” He retreated to sit on the corner of my bed. “Yes, it is an excuse, but it shouldn’t be. I’m sorry, Ana.”
Sorry because something terrible happened? Sorry because the Council had pressured and he’d slipped, telling them about Menehem’s lab? Something worse? I could imagine a thousand horrible things he might apologize for.
“Why?” I couldn’t stop the shaking in my voice.
“For letting their talk get to me and”—he slumped, elbows braced on his knees—“I don’t know. I’m angry about Templedark. It hurts thinking about the darksouls.” He buried his face in his hands. “When I see Menehem again, I can’t say what I’ll do.”
He wasn’t the only one to feel like that, either, but at least he didn’t want to punish me for what Menehem had done.
Sam met my eyes, apology in his expression. “But I wouldn’t want to undo anything that allowed you to be with us. Lidea feels the same about Anid.” He looked so torn. “No matter how horrible Templedark was, it allowed for newsouls and you’re right. That’s better than no one being born at all.”
I flashed a tight smile. He’d been right, too: I couldn’t feel the same pain he did. That didn’t make my caring any less, though.
“Sometimes good things come from unexpected places. Life out of death. No scars after a sylph burn.” I showed him my pale, pencil-smudged hands. “And roses that taught me how to care for things, even though no one else thought the roses’ color was good enough.”