by Mara Gan
“Perseus,” Kos said, a soft smile on his lips, “the new Intended is you.”
“I—” He froze. “What?”
“You are the new Intended. You and Andromeda are to be married, if you wish it.”
“But….” Perseus faltered, looking stunned as he glanced at me. Finally, a small wisp of relief seeped into me. He did love me—he was suffering from a fear of failure, not a lack of interest in me. “But I’m not royal.”
I gave a short laugh. “Neither am I.”
“And it doesn’t matter,” Kos said. “Not in this case.”
“This… case?”
Kos righted an overturned chair and sat, motioning for Perseus to do the same. He did so on the remnants of the couch, but stiffly, his face frozen in shock. I positioned my wheelchair to face them and folded my hands in my lap.
“Have you ever heard of soul mates?” Kos asked.
“Yes,” Perseus replied. “They’re fairy tales people tell each other, hoping one person exists who can make them happy.”
“Soul mates are real,” Kos said. “They’re not fairy tales. A lot of folklore has spun up around them, most of it ridiculous, but the basis is true.”
Perseus frowned, looking between me and Kos. I tried to keep my face gentle, but I was nervous. “You’re telling me….” Perseus hesitated. “That Meda is my soul mate?”
Kos shook his head. “Yes, but it’s a little more complicated than that. What you’ve probably heard about soul mates is wrong; for one thing, they are extremely rare. For another, they’re not two souls destined for each other; they’re one soul in two different bodies.”
Perseus started, glancing at me again. “What?”
I was glad Kos was explaining this, because I was still a bit fuzzy on the details. He, on the other hand, always seemed to know everything. “When a soul—usually an old one—is in a body that dies violently or tragically, the soul splits in two. But souls themselves are immortal, so they still get reborn, only this time in two separate people.” He gestured to us. “That much is true, although uncommon. But this isn’t the case with you and Meda. You two are a brand-new soul.”
Perseus leaned forward, rubbing his head tiredly. “And I thought the universe was weird enough.” I couldn’t stop the laugh that escaped my lips and he glanced at me, briefly, a small smile touching his eyes.
Kos continued. “Tykhe created a soul to be her conduit to this galaxy, to save it from Kronos. But she tried to put too much power into that soul, and it wasn’t capable of holding that much, so it broke in two. Meda is one half, and you’re the other half. It explains why both of you have abilities far stronger than the others of your kind.”
Perseus bit his lip. “How do you know all this?”
Kos turned to me, gesturing for me to explain. “Tykhe came to me,” I said gently. “After I—well, died, she stopped time for me and explained everything.”
My Protector looked at me, although it seemed difficult for him. “And she—saved you?”
“No.” I shook my head. “Well, yes. Sort of. She gave me a choice. She didn’t want to force anything on me—and I’m not sure she could have anyway, since I think she needed my permission—but she showed me what was going on and asked me what I wanted to do.”
Perseus frowned. “Showed you what was going on?”
I swallowed nervously. “When I died, and you said you loved me.”
His face froze as he stared at me.
I slid out of my chair and knelt by him, touching his hand. “That was the reason I came back,” I said softly. “You gave me the reason. You are my reason.”
Perseus had stiffened, looking away from me as I spoke. After several long moments, I sighed and used the chair to hoist myself back up on my weak legs. I sat again, leaning my arm on the chair as I rubbed my face.
Kos took over, for which I was grateful. “You need to complete the Joining ceremony.”
Perseus leaned forward, his head in his hands. “The Joining ceremony?”
“It’s… a kind of spiritual surgery,” Kos supplied. “To heal the broken soul, a Joining ceremony must be completed. The Joining ceremony binds two halves of a broken soul together, permanently. You’ll never be ‘whole’ without each other, but the Joining ceremony helps ensure that you will find each other in all future incarnations, and your future selves will be happy and peaceful—and, well, whole. In essence, it makes the bond you already have stronger.”
Perseus sighed, his head still in his hands. “No.”
I studied him, my heart dropping, wishing I could read his emotions now more than ever.
Kos didn’t look at me, but actually smiled. “No?”
“No.” Perseus lifted his gaze to me. “She deserves better than me.”
“How much better could she do than a man who would sacrifice everything to keep her safe?” Kos asked gently.
“And excuse me,” I cut in, somewhat annoyed with him now, “but I will choose who is good enough for me, thank you very much.”
I had the satisfaction of seeing Perseus’s mouth twitch with humor. “So stubborn.”
“Yes, damn you,” I huffed.
Now he actually smiled. “Princess, are you swearing?”
“If that’s what it takes to get you to think straight, then yes.”
Kos grinned. “And Perseus, I think you’re missing something big here.”
Perseus glanced back at him. “What’s that?”
“Meda is not the ‘one soul created to save the galaxy,’” he said, shocking both of us by quoting the Prophecy. “You are.”
After a moment of stunned silence, I understood. “Of course!”
“My soul is hardly pure,” Perseus said, scowling.
Kos shook his head. “It is, actually. Your motives, at the base, were pure. Maybe you haven’t spent your entire life trying to help people, but then, most people don’t. Not directly.”
“But….” Perseus glanced at me, still confused. “What about Meda? She’s the one with the power, the Prophecy—”
I smiled and shook my head. “I’m still supposed to save the universe,” I said. “But you and I are one soul—so you have to help me save it. You protect it, and I heal it.” I mentally smacked myself as I realized something else. “And the Prophecy…. We thought this entire time that the Prophecy was just about me. But it isn’t.”
Even Kos frowned a little. “What did you realize, Meda?”
“I can’t believe it never occurred to me,” I said, incredulous, “but the Halian language does not use gender pronouns. We always assumed that the pronoun would be ‘she’ when translated to Galaxian basic language, since the Moirae spoke the Prophecy in Halian at my birth, but we don’t use ‘she’ or ‘he’ in Halian.”
Awareness dawned on Kos’s face. “And no Moirae would have been present at Perseus’s birth, so there was no way to know he was a part of the Prophecy too.”
I nodded, amazed. “And that means that I am the ‘raven’—it’s the name of my ship, the Corvax—and Perseus, as a mercenary throughout the galaxy, is the ‘wanderer.’ The Prophecy has mentioned both of us all along, and we never noticed because of those stupid gender pronouns.”
Perseus nodded into the distance. “I see,” he murmured. I kind of wanted to slap him a little; could he possibly be more reticent about something as important as this?
Kos slapped his knees and stood. “I think the two of you should talk more, and I have done all I can here.” He picked around the debris on the floor and moved to the door. “If you need anything, you know where to find me.”
“Thank you, Kos,” I murmured, my eyes still on Perseus.
The door slid shut behind him and, after several moments of silence, I spoke. “So… I think you need a housekeeper.”
Perseus didn’t answer, his head still resting in his hands.
I walked gingerly through the mess toward his window seat overlooking the stars. I was exhausted, but also grateful to be moving about again,
even if it was just from the couch to the window. I think I was more tired of bedrest than I was in need of it.
I stooped to examine the remains of a potted plant. “Did the plant do something wrong?”
He laughed, but it didn’t sound happy. “I… was angry. Really angry.”
I glanced up, surprised. “You had a Rage?”
He said nothing.
“But… you must have done this after the accident,” I said slowly. “You knew I would be alright. Why did you…?” I looked at him quizzically. Suddenly, I understood. “You think… you think it’s your fault, don’t you?” I whispered.
“I should have known!” he snapped, standing and whirling to face me. “I should have known. I should have seen Kenzi’s deception when he showed up at your apartment, but I was too distracted.” He spat out the last word. “I was too busy thinking about you, and what you’d said to me.”
I was confused. “What did I say?”
His jaw clenched. “When you told me you loved me.”
“Oh.” I blushed, then shook my head. “Perseus, stop. Kenzi fooled everyone, even me—and I’m a telepath. And I blew up my own apartment, remember?”
“You don’t understand.” He strode to the wall next to me and braced his hands against it, staring out the window. “My life was… cold before I met you. Empty. I hated everything and everyone, and they hated me. But then I met you… and all of that changed.” He shook his head. “I had only ever seen people as commissions or a mark to kill, and they only saw me as a killer or a thief. You….” He glanced down at me, his expression pained. “You were the first person I could see as a friend. Someone who cared about me, actually wanted to be with me. One kiss from you, one laugh, and I felt warm. You were genuine; just being near you made the Rage in my chest subside until I almost couldn’t feel it, at least not when I was around you. No one has ever treated me as anything better than a vicious animal, but you…. You made me feel human. And no one has ever tried to give their life for me.”
He gave a bitter smile. “And no one had ever told me they loved me. But you did all of that.” He gazed out at the stars. “You can’t know what it’s like to be unloved. I was… starved. I didn’t even know it until I met you, but you telling me you loved me was…. Unbelievable. The best moment of my life. I had no idea how badly I needed it.”
He hung his head, his hands balling into fists against the wall. “But then you-you were ripped away from me, and everything was so, so much worse.” His whole body tensed.
“Oh, Perseus,” I whispered, standing and moving to touch his arm. “Perseus, you—”
He looked up at me, his expression changed. He went still, his gaze affixed to my stomach.
“You’re bleeding,” he said slowly, his voice hoarse.
I glanced down in surprise. Damn. This was why I didn’t like wearing white; it was an easy color, but it stained too easily. “Curses,” I muttered, touching it. “Probably busted a stitch or—”
My sentence ended on a squeak as Perseus swept me into his arms and carried me swiftly into the bathroom. He set me on the counter, knelt, and gently lifted my shirt to get a better look, and I leaned back a little so he could see. He gingerly peeled back the weeping bandage to check the wound underneath.
His whole face twisted and his fingers shook as he touched my stitches, one of which had indeed popped. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from the place where Kenzi had stabbed me.
This couldn’t be good for him. I touched his face. “Hey,” I whispered. “Look at me.”
He lifted his eyes to mine and I saw nothing but anguish in their depths. “Does it hurt?” he whispered, searching my face. “Are you in pain?”
I shook my head, cradling his face. “Only because I haven’t seen you in days,” I replied softly. “I missed you. I love you—”
He kissed me, a choked sound coming from his throat. His hands threaded through my hair as he pressed me closer.
“Meda,” he whispered. “Meda, I love you so much.” Another kiss. “God, I can’t express it—” Another. “But I can’t live without you.” Another. “I can’t do it. I need you. I need you more than I need to breathe—”
He kissed me, so thoroughly that I thought I might faint from the sensation.
Several long moments later, I pulled away enough to look at him. I lifted my hand to his face. “So… you’re okay Joining with me?”
He choked on a laugh and leaned his forehead against mine. “God, yes.”
“What about… um, Rania?”
Perseus’s eyes focused on me with laser intensity. He gripped my chin, forcing me to look at him. “I don’t give a damn about Rania,” he whispered. “I only want you.”
I swallowed, feeling insecure as I thought of the beautiful Mousai. I didn’t want her feelings hurt, either, if she and Perseus had been serious. “Are you sure? You don’t have to marry me just because we’re soulmates. I know Rania is kind, graceful, and strong—”
“My tastes run smaller these days,” he said, brushing the backs of his fingers against my cheek, his eyes roaming my face. “I haven’t seen anyone but you since the day we met.”
“Really?” I asked, smiling a little as I watched him.
“Hear me now,” Perseus commanded, eyes narrowed. His grip on my chin strengthened. “I may have been out with Rania, but it was nothing more than a miserable attempt to get my attention away from you. There was never anyone for me but you. The entire time I was with her, I was trying so hard to pretend it was you in my arms, you looking at me that way, you who wanted my touch.” His lip curled. “Rania was all wrong for me, but I thought I wasn’t good enough for what I really wanted.” He smiled softly, rubbing his thumb over my lower lip. “A stubborn, warm little princess with mischievous eyes—that was what I burned for.”
He sighed and pushed a lock of hair behind my ear. “I hated myself for that day with Rania. And I hated myself even worse that you saw me with her. The look on your face ate at me for weeks, making me feel like I’d betrayed you.” He trailed his hand along my jaw, speaking almost to himself. “You are all I’ve ever wanted. You have plagued my dreams, my every waking thought, since the moment I first saw you.”
Perseus kissed me, hard, his fingers threading the hair at the back of my head. He pressed his lips against mine almost brutally, his arm slipping around my waist and pulling me against him, molding my body to his.
He pulled away and wrapped his arms around me, pressing my face to his chest. My heart thudded with emotion.
“I’ve never been in love before, Meda,” he said quietly, his breath ruffling my hair. “But I would love you even if you were not my soul mate. You are the only thing that makes me feel human. Losing you was….” His hands tightened. “When I felt your heart stop, my universe collapsed,” he managed. “There was nothing for me without you. I would have done anything, anything at all, just to see your beautiful eyes look at me once more.”
He clutched my hand. “You’re the only one who keeps my Rage in check,” he murmured. “One touch from you and all that Rage just… disappears. I’ve never felt anything like it.”
I kissed him, smiling. “We seem to have an effect on each other,” I said, my grin widening. “Since you keep me from sensing anything else when I’m with you too. We keep each other from sensory overload.”
Perseus moved closer, his hands threading through my hair. “No, Meda,” he murmured, smiling against my lips, “I definitely suffer from sensory overload around you.”
He kissed me, and I realized he was absolutely right.
CHAPTER FORTY-NINE
I stretched and rolled over—
—and jolted awake as my hand was caught in a gentle grip.
I opened my eyes to the grinning face of my Protector.
“Morning, Sunshine,” he murmured.
I blushed furiously. “Good morning, Perseus.”
“So you flail in your sleep, do you?”
I buried my head in the sof
t pillow. We had fallen on his bed, and I could see it was now morning by the clock on the wall.
Of course, we had kissed. A lot. But our relationship is brand-new to us, and I do still have a stab wound and a concussion. After some kissing—which, oh my god, was wonderful—we had talked almost more than we had kissed, and then fallen asleep.
Well, I had fallen asleep. I don’t know about him.
I yawned. “I didn’t snore, did I?”
“Like a Mathan raptor.”
I pinched his arm. “I did not!”
Perseus laughed. I loved that noise more than anything and vowed to make it happen as often as possible. “No, you did not,” he confessed. “But you did giggle in your sleep.”
“I giggled?”
He nodded. “Yes. I’ve never known anyone to laugh in their sleep before.”
I raised my eyebrow. “None, out of all those women?” I teased.
He sobered a little. “No; but then, you’re the only one I’ve ever shared a bed with for an entire night.”
“Really?” I sat up a little, propping my chin on my hand.
“Sharing a bed is very… personal,” he said, looking uncomfortable and studying the ceiling. “It isn’t something to do with people you don’t trust.” He glanced at me. “And there weren’t that many women.”
I laughed, realizing he was worried. “Perseus, I’m not jealous of them,” I reassured.
“You—you’re not?” He looked surprised.
“Of course not,” I said easily. “Why should I be? They have nothing to do with me. I didn’t even know you then.”
His eyes burned at me. “And they were nothing compared to you.”
“No, no,” I said, rolling my eyes. “None of that now. They made you who you are. And that’s who I fell in love with. I wouldn’t change anything about your former girlfriends.”
“None of them were my girlfriend,” he said, shaking his head. “Also too personal.”
“Wow,” I teased. “You’re just breaking a whole bunch of rules for me, aren’t you?”
Perseus kissed me. “I’d break them all for you.” He stood and patted my hip. “Come on, lazy girl,” he said jovially. “Time to get up.”
