“Is that what you think?” He advanced on me, expression hard and fists curled at his sides. “You think I only care about knowing where you are and what you’re doing?”
I backed away, wary of the set of his shoulders and that dark look in his eyes. He looked like a creature barely contained.
I hated the way my voice shook. “You don’t seem to care about much else lately.” Not that I could blame him. My heel hit a tree trunk, then my shoulders and my spine. I’d backed away all I could. “You barely talk to me. You let Cris go out and find me the night I got lost.”
“I asked him to find you.”
“It was still dark.” I tried to edge away, but Sam pressed his palms to the trunk on either side of me, caging me. I steeled my voice. “You don’t speak to me. You barely look at me.”
He was looking at me now. His face was so close we could kiss, and all his weight leaned toward me, making him seem bigger than he really was. “What do you want me to do?” he rasped. “Say it doesn’t matter that you hid something so important from me? Say Armande’s death isn’t ripping me apart? Say I don’t care that we’re traveling back to the place I died so you can make friends with the things that killed me?”
“I know—” The words came out wispy and weak. “I know this is the last thing you want to do.”
“But I’m here, Ana. For you. Because you said you believed this would work. But you can’t expect me to be cheerful about it.”
“I don’t.” I felt like I was hardening, like ice. Without the sylph nearby, cold nipped at my nose and cheeks. Even the heat of Sam’s glare did nothing to warm me. “But you don’t have to suffer alone.”
That was the thing, though. He wasn’t suffering alone. He had Stef and Whit, even if he was still upset with Stef for hiding the truth. She’d hidden it at my request. They both understood how awful this was for him in a way I would never be able to comprehend.
I wasn’t worried about him suffering alone. I was worried about my suffering. My loneliness.
Before he could see the shame in my eyes, I turned my head. My voice was pale and weak, almost snatched up by the wind cutting around trees. “I made a mistake. Lots of mistakes.” Avoiding him was one of them. Sarit had told me to take action, but I’d been too afraid. I’d kept my distance and made little effort to comfort him when he needed it, too.
He didn’t move. With my head turned aside, I could see only his forearm at my shoulder, and even with his coat on, I could see the strain and tremble where he held himself up.
“I shouldn’t have hidden the truth from you, but I hoped you wouldn’t have to know, because you shouldn’t have to feel guilty about something you did five thousand years ago when you were young and scared.”
“Of course I have to feel guilty.” His tone softened. “Because of my decision, a hundred newsouls have been—” His breath caught. “It could have been you. I died shortly after Ciana. You and I were born only weeks apart. Everything was so close, you might have been the soul exchanged for my rebirth. You could have been one of those souls in the temple, paying for my selfish decision. I think about that every day. I think about it every time I look at you. How can I not feel guilty? How can anyone live under the weight of so much guilt?”
From the corner of my eye, he looked pained and passionate, like it took everything in him to stay together.
“You’re trying to absolve me so I won’t think about what I’ve done. What we all did. You’re trying to keep your friends good and blameless so we can continue on as we’d been before, but that’s not going to work. Let us accept the blame for what we’ve done. Let us deal with that blame. It’s not pleasant for any of us, but you can’t—and shouldn’t—try to stop it just because it makes you uncomfortable.”
Without another word, he spun toward camp and vanished into the woods.
17
DEFIANCE
HE WAS RIGHT. I’d been making decisions based on what made me most comfortable.
Forcing them to come north with me. Not telling them the truth about reincarnation. Keeping my silence with the group. Avoiding Sam.
But now I knew what to do.
It was a terrible plan, but as I stood there with my spine against the tree, my breath misting on the frigid air where the heat of Sam’s body had already dissipated, I knew it was the right plan.
My eyes closed and my face lifted to the treetops and sky beyond, I whispered, “Please,” to nothing. To everything. To something greater than me. “Please let this be right.”
Only the wind answered, howling through the valley and around the trees. Ice clattered and hoarfrost trembled. No wonder the phoenixes had built a prison this far north: dragons, freezing weather, and utter solitude.
I shivered and pushed toward camp again.