Maybe she should have tackled it right then, instead of allowing the emotions their words had stirred in her to lead the way. It could have saved them two months of frustration and secrets. Shar’s words of that afternoon came back to her. He’d said she was their beginning. She’d forgotten that, lost in her concerns about the growing distance between the four of them.
Then it occurred to her—the distance had always been there. And it wasn’t only the brothers who created it.
In fact, it had been her doing all along, especially in the beginning. How had she not seen it until now?
Even after they asked her to stay, she held back from them. She avoided asking them questions of their past, and discussing her own. She didn’t ask about the future beyond the next few days, didn’t inquire about the Fomoiri clan gathering, or why they were living separated from the rest of their people. She didn’t talk to Mell about his adventures, the painful and the joyous, only music, and his plans for the pub. She accompanied her gentle giant to the garden, but she couldn’t bring herself to ask any more about the time he guarded the Rowan, though she knew it pained him. And Dub, her grumpy not-man, she had left to his own devices. Had she known he’d gained the title of the Smith? Or his plans for the brooch, and why he was so intent on ensuring the brothers broke free from their father? Or what exactly happened between him and Cu Chulainn?
They had taken on some of her pain, they knew some of what her past consisted of, but had she allowed them to really know her? Had she truly opened herself to them?
No. No to all of it. And that was something she needed to fix sooner rather than later. She needed to face what she had done, to truly heal from her past and move forward in the present, with this new life.
“One minute.” She shoved Dub’s shoulder again, and he rolled away, taking most of the comforter with him. She caught the edge and held it to her chest, part of her thigh and hip exposed. “Everyone come in.”
Mell flashed a wicked grin, similar to the one he sported when she first met him.
“Not for that,” she admonished him. “No, come in, and shut the door. I need to say something, and I want to say it with just the five of us, and I want to be sure I am understood.” Her words were possibly a little foreboding, because Mell’s grin faded and Finn sobered. Dub groaned, rubbed his face, and twisted his head to stare at her. Shar stepped into the room, shoving Finn before him, and closed the door behind him.
Despite her earlier fears, she focused on her giant, the only one whose demeanor remained calm. “I will say this, and then we will get to work. I…” She swallowed, struggling for words. “I want to apologize.”
Dub growled, Mell shook his head and Finn frowned. Again, Shar was who she remained focused on. The brother who had first asked her to stay, and who had called her their beginning. Even if he’d had doubts about his own reactions to seeing her intimate with others, he’d been the most sincere with her, the most honest of the brothers.
“Let me say this, please. It is not easy for me, but I need it to be said, and I need you to hear it.” Her eyes slid closed.
The mattress dipped as a weight settled beside her, opposite Dub. “Tell us, goddess. We will listen.” Finn laid a callused hand on her shoulder, then skimmed down her arm to link his fingers with her.
One of the holes, the pinpricks of doubt and fear and pain that Balor’s tendrils had found the night before, closed at those words and his touch. She gripped his hand and opened her eyes. Power filled her, but it wasn’t that of a goddess. It was the power of a woman who finally faced her own shortcomings and pain, and fought to overcome them.
“I need to apologize,” she said again. “Because I came here damaged. Until last night, I did not realize just how extensive that damage was, only that I needed more than my current existence. Before my visions led me to this green land, I managed my days by clinging to the idea that I was perfectly fine on my own, even when I did not believe it. I lived in the now of my existence, and concentrated only on that.” She finally moved her gaze from Shar’s and focused on Finn’s fingers intertwined with hers. “I came into existence with one purpose, though it was not fulfilled until two millennia after my birth—I was supposed to unite the Upper and Lower Kingdoms.
“At my birth, I was faced with a choice. Because while I did have this purpose, I was different somehow. Most deities… well, their nature is their nature. They are who they are. Seth is thunder and storms and just a bit of savagery, never quite content, though still an honorable man. Isis is beauty and grace. Horus seeks truth and healing and has remained young at heart. Hathor is… femininity, the mother, the nurturer. Bastet is full of mischief and loyalty. Apep is chaos. I could go on, but the point is they were all born with their natures. I was not, I only had a purpose.”
“Realta, you don—” Mell started, his brows pinched.
“I do. Please.”
“Shut up.” Dub sat up, his glare directed at his brother. “We listened to you about respecting her pain, letting her heal. Well, pull your head out of your ass and let her fucking heal.” His expression softened to something close to pity. “She is not you. Let her speak her pain.”
Mell’s face froze into a blank mask.
This was not what she had intended. She was telling them this in order to, yes, begin her healing, but to also to bring them closer to her, and each other. “I would like all of you to remain silent until I am done.” She directed this at Dub, along with a small frown and a light slap on his shoulder. He did deserve it for starting with Mell.
Mell snorted, his expression easing, as Dub turned his glare on her.
When neither spoke again, she continued. “I had a choice to make. The light or the dark. Chaos or order and justice. Both sides whispered to me, called me to them. But I chose justice, and became who I am. I… existed. Though I was different from the other deities, and they knew it, I still had my worshippers, and I loved and guided them. For two millennia I was a guide and mother and caregiver for those I loved. I sought justice for them, and I helped their souls to the Land of Reeds when the time came. It was a good life, and existence. I had sacrifices and offerings of many kinds, including, yes, male companionship.
“When Narmer was born, I had a vision, and I knew it was time. I travelled to Thebes, then on to Nekhen and after that to Sep, looking for Seth. I’d known for some time that I would one day join with him and Horus. We all knew, and I considered them friends, and my fate.”
She paused, her gaze on the lumpy folds of the comforter. This was the part she didn’t know how to explain, because she didn’t understand it herself. Mell shifted at the edge of her vision, and she ignored him. Shar stepped up to the foot of the bed and sat beside his brother, one leg propped on the edge of the bed so he could twist to watch her.
“I will not tell you everything of that time. Many things happened, and maybe when our current… situation is done we can have a night where we talk of times long past, the good and the bad.” She waited until they nodded, all of them being careful to abide by her order to be quiet.
That small sign of respect warmed her. Horus would have kept his silence for a while, but eventually would have become distracted and tried to cajole her out of her worry. Or have wandered off. Seth would have listened for a bit, then told her to get over it or order him to hurt someone in vengeance.
“There was a war, yes,” she said, continuing her tale. “Many say Narmer was a bloodthirsty man, and he could be. But he knew Egypt needed to be whole, to not fight amongst itself, if it was to survive much longer. For that peace to be possible, Horus and Seth needed to be willing to get along. That was where I came in. I kept the peace, mediated, and yes, took them into myself.
“But we were never… true lovers, as I had always thought we would become. We did not love each other, not as Horus loves Hathor, or Oisin loves his wife though she is lost to him. We were companions, and friends. And we managed for centuries in this way. In the beginning, I stayed with them at the pal
ace in Memphis. But after not too long—a few decades only—I grew to miss my home and left for a visit. The next visit was longer, and even longer ones came after that, until I resided in my small temple permanently once more, only leaving for a few months every decade or so to mediate troubles. They did not seek me out.” She met Mell’s shadowed gaze then shrugged, a rueful smile tugging up her lips. “They abandoned me, yes, but I left them first, in a way.” Mell’s lips parted and a cross between anger, resentment and melancholy pushed at her before it was withdrawn. “We can certainly argue that they wronged me first, by not loving me in the way I had expected,” she said in acknowledgement of Mell’s reaction. “But we can also say that I allowed the situation.”
She waved a hand. “I am not stating that everything after was my fault, but I can see how I allowed it to come to pass. How it set a precedent with the other gods and goddesses. I was Bat, who’d come into existence for one thing, and one thing only. And when that was done… well, it is hard to be without a reason for existing. Man has been trying to figure out his own reasons for longer than I have.” It was an amusing thought, that man had been in existence longer than she had, and that her troubles so well matched theirs. She really was different from other deities.
“Storeen,” Dub said, and the single word held amused exasperation.
“Right, back to my point. There was a single moment when it truly ended, between the three of us, and the purpose for which I was born was finally over. It came to me as a vision two days ago, the day the invitation arrived, and Ari came to us, and secrets were revealed. I had come for a visit to Memphis, and Horus informed me he would be formally joining with Hathor. Seth was there, in the back of the courtyard, when they told me, and he… walked away, never saying a word. They said I longed to be free of my duties, and I could not correct them. It was not really that I longed to be free of my work, I only wanted to choose it. How selfish is that? When most gods never get to choose so much as their nature, I wanted to be able to choose not only my nature but my duties and my freedom.” She paused and let out a short laugh, though she was not amused.
Finn’s thumb ran over the back of her hand, silently encouraging her.
“When it came to pass that I no longer stood between Seth and Horus, it… ripped something from me.” The words were coming easier now. “I felt betrayed that they walked away. That they left me alone, as did the other gods except Bastet. I clung to that pain, and used it to get through my days, the idea that they had left first. I tried to be content in my temple. But… if I look at it, I was the one who left first.” She let out a soft laugh, no longer seeing the bedroom or the four men around her, but a young Horus and more carefree Seth, as she’d known them at the beginning of her existence. “And I have to wonder if that hurt them,” she whispered as she shook her head and focused on the present once more. “There is a point to my telling you this. This morning I realized I had been doing the same to the four of you. The only difference? You— you did not walk away.”
She had to collect herself as tears pricked her eyes and her throat closed. Relief at finally saying aloud something she had known to be the real truth for millennia, but had been too weak to admit, welled in her, healing a few more of those treacherous holes in her spirit.
“And while I feel I do deserve to be angry about the secrets you were all keeping, I was keeping just as many of my own. I did not reach out to insist you tell me those secrets, or try to learn more of you, or your past or motivations. I was so focused on my own pain, I missed yours.” She turned her head and met Finn’s hazel gaze, more green than golden-brown. “This time I was the coward.”
“Are you done?” Mell set aside the tray and leaned toward her, propping himself on one hand. There were no tendrils of emotion escaping from him, but she could see it in his clear eyes, in the small smile that tugged at the corners of his mouth, and the easy set of his shoulders.
“Not quite.” Her words were teasing. She wanted to be done, and to be able to lean into the playful brother and steal a kiss, but she needed to finish what she’d started with her confession.
“Finish then,” Shar said, steady as ever. Was it her imagination, or had the anger and frustration he’d shown since she talked to Seth in the library disappeared?
“Yes, I will finish.” She took a breath and bent her head. “I would like to start over between us. Not fully, because I have come to know and care about all of you, but I would like to start over with no secrets. Not for us to—what is the word—spill everything now, but with the promise that we will spend time learning both the hard things and the easy things. And—” Here was the part she had really been dreading to say. “And I need you all to know that I—” the words wouldn’t come out.
Mell leaned forward another couple of inches and caught her attention. “I know. I know what you are trying to say. And it is okay if you can’t say it yet.”
Another of those holes closed. It was a slow process, but now that she’d spotted them, now that she was truly confronting her pain, they were healing. Finn squeezed her hand, Shar nodded, and Dub settled a hand over her thigh under the covers. All four of them were there, with her.
“I love you.” Her words were soft, barely audible, but all four of them stilled, as though a paralyzing curse had been triggered. A new wave of relief filled her at finally saying it. At saying it first, at having the courage to open up that part of herself.
A warm breeze brushed past her, and along with it a loving touch. Nut—Mother Sky—was with her in that moment, and Bat remembered the moment of her birth, and the decision she had made.
For I am she of the two faces, who has been saved, and I have saved myself from all things evil.
She waited, but none of the men returned the words. Expecting the hurt to come pouring in, she braced herself.
It did not come.
She had done her best, she realized. She had done what she needed to do, and she was satisfied with that. They would say the words, eventually.
“You are amazing,” Dub said. Head tilted back, he gazed blankly at the ceiling.
Of all the men, she expected to hear those words from him the least.
Mell gave a little bounce then launched himself at her, landing with a soft oof against her chest and nearly sending Finn off the bed. Shar barely caught the tray of breakfast. Wrapping his arms around her, Mell didn’t speak, but he opened himself to her. For a brief shining moment, she saw all of him—the lockbox of pain, the joy, the longing for a home that matched hers, the doubts and fears. And at the center was something so pure, so simple, it brought tears to her eyes once more.
It was his love for her. He may never say the words, but he’d shown her. He had allowed her a glimpse of this place in himself two months ago, but this was more. This was his promise to her, and it was from someone who, in his own way, was the most guarded of the four men.
“Get off.” Dub shoved at his brother, and Mell’s arms tightened around her.
“No. She’s mine now. All of you can bollix off.”
Bat laughed at Mell’s words, for she could tell he was joking. Joy danced in his voice and played through the connection he’d formed between the two of them.
“Ye’re pulling the blanket down, and if you don’t stop, no breakfast will be had, and the men of ba will continue to wait,” Shar said evenly. There was a suppressed heat there that Bat would definitely explore tonight. “Plus, world-destroying entity trying to return to the living, blah, blah.”
A new wave of laughter hit Bat.
“Great, and now she’s hysterical,” Finn said, standing from the bed. “What are you doing to the goddess, Mell?”
“Mine, mine, mine.” Mell buried his face in the soft spot where her shoulder met her neck. “Mine,” he whispered.
Dub shoved his brother again, putting some of his strength behind it, and Mell rolled off her and over the edge of the bed. The eldest O’Loinsigh pulled the covers over her once more, rose from the bed, collected
the breakfast tray from Shar and placed it in her lap. “Eat. Shower. We’ll keep everyone busy. Come down when you’re ready.” He slid a hand into the hair at the nape of her neck and tilted her head back for a kiss. Then he whispered in her ear, “You are right, we are not walking away. I’ve already told you this. It is good you are finally realizing it.” Then he was gone, scooping his clothes up from the floor and striding out the door naked. She admired the view, the sleek muscles she’d explored with her hands the night before, the bunch of his buttocks as he walked, the way his tattoos rolled over his skin.
Oh, yes, he was a worthy sacrifice to a goddess.
When he disappeared into the hall, she turned her attention to the other three men. Mell picked himself up off the floor, gave her a small salute with his right hand and a grin, then vanished after his brother.
Shar stood and gave her a soft smile. The juxtaposition of it against the eye-patch and his huge stature thrilled her. “I will have tea ready for you when you come down.” Then he was gone as well.
Finn resumed his seat beside her on the bed. “They may never say the words aloud.” The words echoed her own ideas.
She eyed him. He and Mell both claimed they had no power to read thoughts, but sometimes she did wonder. “I know. But, in their own way, they are saying it, aren’t they?” Every time Shar made her tea, or coaxed the best strawberries from his garden, wasn’t he saying it? And for Dub, hadn’t allowing her to stay been a declaration of its own? For Mell, well, even revealing a part of his true self… what she’d just seen in him told her how hard it had been for him to give her the glimpses he had.
The Forgotten Trilogy Page 37
