Music had always been my comfort, and Sam before I knew him. His compositions, his playing, his singing. But that happiness had been distant. Someone else’s life. I’d imagined a world away from Purple Rose Cottage, but it was the faraway imagining, knowing it would never be my life.
And then it was mine. Sam came, giving me music and happiness of my own. The life I’d always wanted suddenly happened, and trying to fit that with my old life was proving more difficult than I’d anticipated.
I kept expecting to wake up.
Like he understood everything I hadn’t said, Sam kissed me. His mouth was warm and gentle, and his fingers soft against the back of my neck. “I wish I could give you all the time you needed to get used to happiness. Lifetimes, if necessary. I’d wait eternity for you to figure it out.”
We didn’t have eternity. I hoped I didn’t need that long, anyway. I’d feel really stupid.
“You make me happy, too.” He kissed my lips. My nose. My chin. My forehead. “You make me feel—everything.”
My heart beat triple time when he kissed me again. With him, I could be happy forever.
Or at least for the single life I’d been given.
I drew back. “What if Janan actually were going to keep reincarnating people?”
Sam said nothing, but his silence was telling. He didn’t want to die. No one did. Because what happened after? Where did you go when you died forever? What did you do?
“Right before the rededication ceremony last year, you and Stef were talking about choices. You said you were glad you didn’t have to choose between Ciana and me, because how could anyone choose between two people they care about? You told me later that if you had a choice, if what you wanted counted for anything, you’d have chosen me.”
“I still mean that. I will always choose you.”
“I believe you.” I closed my eyes and let him embrace me, trying not to think about what he and the others had decided five thousand years ago, that they’d willingly exchanged newsouls for their immortality.
Five thousand years ago, they’d all chosen themselves.
“Sarit thinks Janan will keep reincarnating oldsouls because he’ll want people to rule over. What’s the point of being powerful and immortal if you’re all alone?”
Sam nodded. “I suppose anything is possible, but like Stef and Cris said: Janan wouldn’t share power.”
“But Meuric was desperate for the key. He said he needed the key to survive.”
“He was also crazy when he said that, wasn’t he? From pain? And being terrified of Janan? He’d been trapped in the temple for months.” Sam didn’t sound sorry for Meuric, but the knowledge of what I’d sentenced the former Speaker to was heavy. “Maybe,” Sam went on, “all he meant was that Janan would kill him if he didn’t have the key, because he’d have failed. Or if he had the key, Janan would heal him. Who knows what he thought would happen?”
I stared at my boots, sorting out thoughts and feelings, and how to ask for help without letting him see how torn my insides really were. “What would you do?” I whispered. “Only a few of us really understand that Janan isn’t going to keep reincarnating people once he ascends. Sarit said everyone else will see my actions as a choice between oldsouls and newsouls.”
“And?”
“What if it were a choice? What would you do?”
Only the burble of water over rocks answered. Sam stared into the dim forest as snow began drifting through the skeletal branches above.
“I’m not testing you,” I said at last. “I’m not looking for a certain answer. I wouldn’t want to be responsible for reincarnation or whether someone gets to live. You’ve lived so long, though. I was hoping you might have some wisdom to share.”
“I know your question wasn’t a test. I was just thinking about it.” He caressed my cheek, and his gloved fingertips came to rest under my chin. Soft wool brushed my skin, almost a kiss, and Sam leaned so close until all I could see were his eyes. His voice was low and rough. “I would choose you. Every time. No matter what.”
My heart thumped, suddenly feeling too big for my ribs to cage it.
“That’s probably a very selfish answer,” he went on, “but it’s the truth. When I consider the potential consequences of any scenario, I ask what would become of you, and could we be together? Any result that doesn’t involve at least one very long life with you isn’t an option for me. I’ve lived a hundred lifetimes, Ana. I’ve loved before, been lonely, ached for what I couldn’t have. I’ve always made sure to fill every lifetime with what I can, because I’ve seen others grow complacent and weary. I’ve seen them move from living to existing. I’ve been tempted down that path myself, because it sometimes looks easier than this constant caring and trying to grow and change and be more than I am.