Renata took a deep breath. “You have to stop asking that.”
It had become a bad habit in the past couple of years. Max never used to ask her about her jobs. She’d tell him or she wouldn’t. He didn’t ask what she was doing or where she was going. A few times a year, one of them would text the other. When they needed to, they would meet. That was all that was allowed. Sometimes they went over a year without seeing each other, though that was more Renata’s stubbornness than anything Max wanted.
“I know how to take care of myself,” Renata said. “You know that.”
“I just lost a friend.” His voice was hard. “Indulge me.”
Her senses went on alert. “Where are you?”
“Oslo. Are you in Bergen?”
Damn. “No, I’m in the UK.”
“Where?”
She thought about the Irina downstairs. If she brought a scribe in, they’d leave her without a backward glance. “I can’t tell you that.”
“Damn it, Reni. All I want—”
“I’m in the middle of something,” she said. “I’m with good people. Competent people. That’s all I can give you.”
“You’re never willing to give me much, are you?” His voice was bitter. “I suppose I should be used to that by now.”
She’d be angry, but his grief was too raw. “Is Leo with you?” He’d told her about his family, even when she tried to ignore him. It was too much intimacy, but Max told her anyway. “Is Malachi? Rhys?” A tremor of alarm. “Are your brothers all right?”
“It wasn’t one of my brothers,” Max said, his voice going dead again. “It was a friend. I should let you go. You’re busy.”
“Max, I’m—”
He hung up.
“Sorry,” she whispered. I’m sorry.
Vienna, Austria
2014
Someone was pounding on the door of the rented flat, and she knew it could only be Max. He’d left his key with her. She went to open the door and backed out of his way as he stormed in.
“‘I’ll see you when I see you?’” he shouted. “What was that, Renata?”
She closed her eyes and let his anger smash and fall against the hard wall she’d erected. Then she walked back to the bedroom and continued packing her things.
She’d been in Vienna too long.
The Battle of Vienna would be one to write songs about. If she were still an archivist, she’d already be composing one. The battle of the four archangels, two of them sacrificing themselves in a grand attempt at redemption while giving the Irin and Irina warriors time to fight back the army of Grigori that flooded the city, joined by their new allies, the free Grigori and their newly discovered sisters.
It would be a beautiful and frightening song. Threaded between the grand battles, Renata could sing a softer harmony of quiet nights and peaceful mornings spent with the scribe currently storming through the apartment.
Max stood in the doorway of the bedroom they’d shared, glaring at her and the suitcase on the bed.
“This is it?” he asked her. “This is what you’re doing?”
“What did you expect me to do?” she asked. “Run away to Istanbul with you? Leave my life behind?”
“Everything has changed!” he shouted. “The Irina have come back. The singers’ council has reformed. You don’t have to hide anymore.”
Her mouth fell open. “You did. You expected me to abandon my sisters and run away to be your little mate.”
Max grabbed her shoulders. “Would that be so awful? To be my mate? To have a life with me?”
She wrenched herself away from him. “You know nothing.”
“You’re right.” He slammed the bedroom door shut. “Because you refuse to tell me. It’s been fifteen years, Renata. I don’t even know where you were born. I don’t know who your parents were. I don’t know what your training was. I don’t know anything about your life before every damn thing in our world went to shit.”
She ignored him and went back to packing.
“Who was your mother?” He stood behind her, looking over her shoulder. “What was her name? I’ve told you everything, and you tell me nothing. Who was your father? What is the mark on your forehead? Does it have something to do with who you were?”
“You want to know who I was?” She slammed her suitcase and spun around, shoving him back.
“Yes!”
“I was a fool!” she shouted. “I was a little girl who sang songs about history and magic and thought they meant something. I was a weakling who thought that a mountain and the warrior I loved could protect me from anything.”
She saw his eyes narrow.
“Did you think there was only you, Maxim?” She pointed to her forehead where Balien’s mark still shone when her magic was high. “I was supposed to be mated. That’s what this mark is.”
There. She saw the hurt in his eyes. Is that enough knowledge for you?
“You know what?” he said through gritted teeth. “I don’t care. You’re lying to yourself if you say we don’t have a relationship. We’re good together, Renata. Hell, we have the exact same job. There’s no reason we shouldn’t work together. We make the perfect team.”
He was right. And she couldn’t do it. She couldn’t do it to him. Deep in her gut, she knew that one day Max would find his reshon and it wouldn’t be her. He’d find the woman heaven had created for him and it would be perfect harmony. He deserved that. He deserved more than a half-dead woman whose heart had been ripped from her chest.
For months she’d used the excuse of them working together to indulge herself. She’d slept next to him at night, fought by his side, laughed and eaten meals with him, pretending that what they had could be something more.
How could she say goodbye?
She felt the tears in her eyes and hated them. Hated her weakness.
Max came to her and grabbed her by the shoulders. “Just tell me why. I’m tired of this, Reni. I’m done pretending it’s enough. I want more. I want a life together. I’d never leave you in Istanbul. Why would I? I want you to fight beside me. I love—”
“Don’t tell me you love me,” she said, squeezing her eyes shut. “You don’t know what love is.”
His hands dropped as if she’d burned them.
“The warrior I almost mated? His name was Balien of Damascus. He was a great man. A warrior who fought in the Crusades. He was a knight of Jerusalem, a Rafaene scribe, and my reshon. We knew the moment we saw each other, and his voice…?” She wiped away the tears that poured down her cheeks. “He was the other half of my soul. Loving him was the most beautiful thing in my life, and no other joy has ever compared to it. He gave his life saving mine.”
Max was like a statue. She couldn’t meet his eyes. She felt nothing from him. No anger. No pain. She kept her shields clamped shut, afraid to hear the voice of his soul.
“You’re going to find that joy someday,” she whispered. “And you deserve to. You’re going to find your reshon, Maxim. Find your true mate.” She took a deep breath and cut the last delicate ties holding them together. “But it’s not going to be me. You’re right. We should stop pretending.”
By the time Renata looked up, all she could see was his back as Max walked out the door.
4