by Jen Greyson
He wouldn’t think twice.
Training for war has required only one thing—that I expend everything on the battlefield, leaving nothing in my reserves. What I didn’t expect was how going that deep would alter my relationships with the strangers I train with. Every time I draw a weapon against someone, especially in mock battle, I expose myself, I literally entrust my life to them. With every counterstrike, the people fighting by my side become a part of me, an essential part of my family. My family has become theirs, and their family has become mine.
I’ve let Constantine attack me more times than I can count, relying solely on my guts, my instinct, and my crazy weapon to protect me.
And his skill.
He is more a part of me than anyone I’ve ever known.
I would die for him.
I would die for his sister. If Anna were in danger and it was the only way to save her, I would step in front of the attack. And if I’d been there on the day Aurelia died, my answer would have been the same.
Constantine watches me, and I lift my hand to his cheek and rub it softly against his prickly stubble. His pain is there, even though he’s working hard to conceal it. I know where to look now . . . the corners of his eyes, and that wrinkle above his nose. It’s there, in those few spaces his warrior mask doesn’t reach.
He covers my hand with his and closes the distance between our bodies. His face goes soft again. “We must leave.”
Tears fill my eyes. It’s go time.
“Are you ready?” I ask.
“I don’t know the way.”
“I’ll lead.”
He switches his hand to my cheek, curving his fingers below my ear before brushing his fingertips against my spine. His other arm curls around my waist, intertwining us as my lightning flares. Papi’s living room blooms into focus, and Constantine’s arm tightens against my ribs, his fingers lacing through the loose hairs at the back of my braid. I lean into him for a moment.
“Evy!”
“Papi.” I turn and bound across the room.
He enfolds me in a hug and pets my head. “I’ve been so worried.”
I mumble into his shoulder, and he squeezes me so tight I swear a rib gives. He hasn’t hugged me like this since the time Tiana and I almost got hit by a train and the police car brought us home. That was the only other time I’ve seen him scared. If he didn’t look younger than me, I’d think this adventure had aged him a dozen years.
Constantine steps behind us and whispers in my ear, “He’s young.”
I snort. And here I’d thought he’d have something to say about the oddities of this future world as compared with Ancient Spain. Figures he’d take all this in stride, just like he’s accepted me, and what I am.
“I’ll explain later,” I say, then introduce them.
“I’ve done my best to keep her safe,” Constantine says, his face grave.
Papi jerks and loosens his hold on me. “What did he say?”
“Are you speaking Latin?” I ask Constantine. He gives me an incredulous look. Right. What else would he be speaking? It’s my new normal.
“Give it a sec.” I rub Papi’s arm. “You’ll be able to translate shortly.”
“You really are good at this,” Papi says with a wheeze, his gaze darting between me and Constantine.
I smile and puff up. “Yeah, I am. Anyway, he said he’s been trying to keep me safe.” My voice catches on the last part, and my heart expands as I explain. His admission that he’s willing to stand between me and harm makes my insides warm. I take a step back and hope my face isn’t betraying me.
Papi steps into the space I vacated and thrusts his hand out for Constantine to shake. Constantine glances my way, and I mimic a handshake. He figures it out and wraps his fingers around Papi’s. They pump arms for a while, then Papi finally yanks his hand away with some force.
I bite back the smile. Everything may be okay.
“I’m glad you’re home. This has been a disaster from the beginning.” He looks at Constantine. “Obviously yours has been less so, but I still think you’re in danger.”
“No, Papi. You are. Ilif came to Spain. He’s not a good guy.”
He sighs. “Penya said as much. We have no idea what other lies he’s fed us. It’s not safe, Evy.”
I cock my head. “What are you saying?”
“I’m saying we’re done. You’re staying here.”
“I can’t, Papi. I’m sorry.” I rest my hand on his arm. “Constantine thinks Ilif may be after Penya, too. I can’t quit now. There’s too much at stake. We just came to make sure you’re safe and to tell you what’s going on.”
“I can handle myself. He was here, but I sent him to bring you home.” He clenches his fists and sighs. “Then Penya came. She doesn’t think I should quit either. I’ve been worried sick, mija. I wanted to come check on you, but I can’t leave. I don’t have your ability to pick and choose where to go.”
I glance at Constantine. This isn’t going according to plan. “Okay. Well, if you can’t come to Spain, I guess you have to stay here. But you need to turn off the ability. Remember when Ilif told us that’s what your father did?”
“How do we know he didn’t lie?”
“Penya confirmed it, and I swear I saw it in the book. You have to find it as soon as we leave, before Ilif comes.”
“You could take him, then come back for me,” Constantine says.
I finger my braid. “It won’t work. Moving a rider is different from moving a traveler. Whether the lightning is mine or his, the book says he’ll just start another alteration and end up somewhere we don’t want him. Besides, I’m not sure trapping him in ancient Spain is a good idea.”
Constantine cocks an eyebrow.
“You’re different. We’re always together, and you’re from there. Nothing could happen to you.”
Constantine crosses his arms, and I don’t think he likes my answer.
I study Papi. I’d suggest he take his cash and disappear for a while, but I know he’d never do it.
“If you turn it off, I think you’re safest here.”
“I don’t like this at all,” Papi says. “I wanted us to be done with this insane traveling.”
I look from him to Constantine. We could go back and forth on this argument for days. I don’t have days. Well, technically, according to Constantine, I do have days, but I doubt Ilif is going to sit and wait, especially since I didn’t exactly board his crazy train. If anything, he’ll double his efforts to stop us.
I step away from them and stand in the picture window. A neighbor kid throws a stick for his black and yellow mutt. Three doors down, Mr. Jacksip tugs his mower started. I raise my hand to the glass. So much more than this fragile membrane separates me from that life on the other side now. I can never go back to being that girl. Not that it’s any great loss; I could do without ever having to run into Nick again. I’ll miss the shop and my new project, but in the grand scheme of everything, they’re silly, trite things.
Even if Papi managed to talk me out of arcing again, I couldn’t wipe the memory. Bolts crackle from my fingertips and race along the slick surface of the glass. I cup my hands until the electric slivers make a ball.
I have a choice here. A big one.
This is my future, this roiling, chaotic mess of electricity. But it’s not always chaos. When I will it, it’s a laser-accurate machine. Kind of like me. Constantine’s intense glare is focused on the back of my head, I can tell. This is far too much indecision for him. I know he wants me to embrace my power and can’t understand my wavering—he’s never known any other life.
I lift my chin, square my shoulders, arch my back, and willingly step into my life. I turn around, and Constantine’s chin jerks up as he recognizes the change in me. The one he’s been waiting for. Papi focuses on the ball in my hands, eyes wide.
“Papi, you may not want to hear what I’m about to tell you, but this . . .” I move the ball to one hand and hold it out to him. “This i
s who I am. A lightning rider. Danger is part of the deal, but for me, it’s like riding my motorcycles.” I raise my other hand to my heart. “Something in here sings when I arc, when I call the lightning. It doesn’t control me. It never has, except maybe that first time we read the words.” I shake my head. “This is why storms have always bothered me. The lightning has always called me. The toy top, the words, all those details from the first time . . . they were just catalysts. I don’t need any of it, because the lightning is me.” My attention shifts to Constantine. “And I have a job to do.”
Constantine gives me a slight smile and that hint of pride surfaces again in his features. I let my lightning ball fizzle and step to Papi.
His eyes glisten with unshed tears. In his old face, I would have known instantly whether they were tears of pride or fear or sadness. Now I can only guess, and it’s probably a little of all three.
He inhales swiftly, and a smile tugs at the corners of his mouth. Settling his hands on my shoulders, he softens his expression, and it’s easy to read the pride and love. “I know you can do this. I’ve never seen you radiate with such passion, such . . . rightness.”
My eyes water and he goes blurry.
He squeezes my shoulders. “I’m proud of you, mija,” he whispers.
Two big tears drip to my cheeks.
“But come back.”
Constantine steps behind me. “I will ensure it.”
Papi looks over my shoulder, his mouth slightly ajar. I smile through the tears. “Told you it would take a minute.”
“But he’s speaking Latin . . .”
“We’ll come back. You two would like each other.”
He pulls me to him and squeezes me tight. “Be safe. I love you.” He kisses my temple. “I love you.”
I press my face into the hollow of his neck. “Love you, too.”
He releases me and nods to Constantine, who puffs up behind me, taking on the weight of what Papi’s tasked him with. He wraps his arm around me, and I lean against him. The room flares with light and vanishes.
Chapter 23
Grass, crunchy with frost, materializes beneath my feet. The moon hovers fat and full above the trees as they come into focus and the training field forms from the darkness. We’re back at Constantine’s house.
What day is it?
We stand still and listen for the sounds of battle, but the night is silent. Peaceful silent.
“They sleep.” Constantine points to a small herd of horses tethered by the gate. “Readied for the morning. You’ve brought us to the night before the battle.” His voice softens. “We made it.”
I release a huge breath, and Constantine’s arm tightens around my waist, his fingers pressing against the hard leather below my breasts.
“Well done,” he whispers against my ear, making no move to release me.
I should step away. There are probably a thousand things we need to do to prepare. Maps we need to read, warriors we need to talk to, lightning rider-ish techniques to learn, good-byes to say . . .
And there it is. The one thing I haven’t wanted to consider. I don’t want to think about what will happen after Viriato dies, where I’ll go, who my next partner will be . . . how I’ll manage without Constantine goading me, challenging me, always having my back.
This could be our last quiet moment together. We’ve had so few. A blessing and a curse. As well as he draws out my weaknesses when we’re fighting, he would force me to discover even more if he found my other soft spots. And I would let him reveal them all, just as I’ve trusted him with my physical weaknesses. Of course I would. For him, I’d expose everything, lay every vulnerability on the table for his examination.
I love him.
I’ve accepted this lightning rider’s life, but it doesn’t take away the sadness at not being with him. After this, he’ll be on to the next big battle, and I’ll be on to the next alteration.
Tears sting my eyes, and I blink them away. I won’t cry. I won’t leave him with the image of me whimpering like a stupid girl. I will be the warrior he’s trained me to be. This is my life now. Strong. Capable. Alone. I stuff the sorrow away. I can do this. He’s done it for years.
His fingers rub small circles across my ribs, barely discernible through the armor.
But I don’t have to step away just yet.
A night bird screeches in the trees, then dives toward the field. The temperature inches down, and I shiver. Constantine shifts his feet, and I settle into the new hollow of warmth he’s created.
What am I going to do without him? He’s become so much to me—protector, teacher, and my heart’s place-marker in time.
He nudges my braid, running his finger along the side and pushing it over my shoulder, exposing my skin to the night air. His warm lips travel the length of my neck, and I close my eyes, fighting for one last moment of control, for the strength to step from his arms. He slides his hand over my armor and cups my breast while his other hand skims up and down my arm. He’s never been tender like this—he takes, he demands. Maybe he feels our time slipping away, too.
My heart won’t recover from what’s about to happen. If I walk away now, I can put the pieces back together eventually. If I let him see those soft spots and vulnerabilities now, he’ll hold my heart in ancient Spain forever.
Just one more minute.
His stubble grazes the skin at the base of my neck, sending a shiver down my spine. My thoughts dribble away. He strokes my cheek, and I lean into his rough calluses. He spins me around to face him and cups my face, kissing my temples. I thread my fingers through the front of his tunic and stare at the rough fabric. He smells like pine needles and sweat and home.
“Look at me,” he commands gently.
I shake my head.
“Evy.”
It’s only the second time he’s used my name. There’s a tenderness this time. He rubs his finger along the underside of my jaw, pressing softly upward in request.
Run away, Evy. Run to Anna’s. Run anywhere. I slam the door on my mind, give in to the pressure, and lift my face.
“You’re leaving me soon,” he says.
“Probably.”
“I don’t like it when you’re gone.”
“I’m sure Anna can find someone else to wear my armor.”
“Don’t.” His voice is low, his stare intense. “We may not have another chance for this.”
“For what? For holding each other in a field?” Tears threaten to spill, and I bite my lip.
“To plan our future.”
I look away before the tears fall. If my heart can’t bear his touching, it’ll be crushed beneath his words.
“I was without you for five years once. I don’t think I can do it again. You’ve come to mean a great deal to me.”
I tilt up my head to absorb the tears. I want so badly to hear what he has to say, I want to let him rip my heart to shreds with it.
He blows out a frustrated breath. I bite my tongue. When the pain doesn’t cover the ache in my chest, I bite down harder.
The night enfolds us, and I look for the courage to step out of his arms. To shut him up for good. To save a minuscule section of my soul.
“Your father called you ‘mija.’ What does it mean?” he asks.
I search his face with a sideways glance and hope he’s giving up on the serious chat.
“It’s a little girl thing, like he’s calling me ‘sweet baby.’ It sounds stupid in the translation, but he’s always called me that.”
“You’re no one’s baby.”
I shrug.
“You are a goddess now.”
I look away again. Clearly he was just looking for a different way past my walls.
“A goddess needs a suitable match.”
“Don’t,” I say.
“A man who can protect her. Who can travel with her. Someone who knows who she is.”
Tears flood my eyes, and I want to clamp my hands over my ears. He has a life here. Responsibility.
“You can’t leave here. What about Anna? And your men?”
“Anna will be fine. She wants to return to Rome. I’ll handle my men. What about you?”
“I can come visit.”
“That’s not good enough.” He turns my face toward his. “I need you here. You make me live, Evy.”
“Please.” I shake my head. “Please stop.”
“Why? Why won’t you let me protect you? Watch over you while you sleep?”
I grit my teeth. I don’t even know whether he’ll survive the attack on Viriato. Or when I’ll slingshot home—or straight to my next alteration. We’re on borrowed time. From now until we complete this alteration is all we have.
“Tell me why,” he says.
“Because what you’re saying might not even matter in a few hours,” I say, my voice breaking. “Because I might leave without warning, and I might not ever see you again.”
“Then I’ll come with you.”
“That only works when you’re traveling on your own timeline—or when I take you with me.”
He lifts an eyebrow in question.
“We don’t know where I’m going next. There’s a lot about the future beyond now you don’t know about.”
“You can teach me.”
I sigh. “It’s not that simple. I don’t even know what I’m doing. And—and I don’t know how to handle it when you’re being nice like this!”
“You prefer it when I’m angry?”
“No. I just . . . I know who you are when you’re angry or when we’re fighting or training. This guy . . .” I wave my hands wildly in front of his chest. “This saying-nice-things guy . . . I don’t know what to do with him.”
“Do you like him?”
“That’s not really the point—”
He lowers his mouth to mine and crushes me to him. My back bows, and I melt against him. His lips are demanding. The softness vanishes. He is the man I know. The man I love. His arms tighten across my back, and mine are trapped between our bodies. I don’t care. I tip my head and give in. I tell him with my body how I feel about him. I let myself go, not caring if I ever get my heart back. It’s too late, anyway. I kiss him with every ounce of the passion and wonder I feel when I’m around him. I lean into him with every bit of power he’s given me.
