Chapter Thirty-Eight
CANDRA SAT ALONE in one of the pews near the back of the church, thinking about her life. She’d been wrong about so many things, made assumptions and allowed herself to be led astray. At times, everything she thought she knew had been barely more than a shaky illusion, a collection of staged scenes in which she’d let herself be manipulated. Knowing this was her plan and her decision came with a certain sense of freedom.
It had started raining, and the repetitive sound of pouring water on the slate roof comforted her, a reminder the world didn’t stop turning when Sebastian had taken his last breath. It didn’t stop turning when anyone took their last breath. She hoped that after today, that would still be true. The sharp burning scent of incense lingering in the cold air no longer bothered her at all. Loss was just like a bad smell. Awful at first…sickening, but after a while, it faded into the background until it was hardly noticeable at all.
Candra had become more acquainted with death than she’d ever imagined she would be at her tender age. Death was one of those rare things everyone expected to face sooner or later—expected, yet always unexpected when it happened. Her reaction to Ivy’s death had been shock, debilitating anguish, a feeling of being dislocated from time and space. She didn’t expect to experience the serene peace that accompanied another death.
Footfalls on marble alerted her to company. The particular soft padding of bare feet told her it was Draven. A familiar sense of possibility and dread engulfed her, erasing some of her calm. Their feelings toward each other were horribly inconvenient, especially now. Without a word having passed between them, she assumed he wanted to talk her out of facing Lilith. No good would come of that either.
“Are they ready?” she asked. Deliberately delaying anything he might be intending to say.
Draven wrapped a thin blanket around her shoulders, his fingers hovering over the base of her neck for a moment before he moved away.
“Thank you.” It was cold. The stone walls of the chapel seemed to suck warmth right out of the air instead of insulating it. She chose to ignore the thought that someone else might need the blanket more if her having it offered any kind of comfort to Draven.
“Everyone will be in place,” he said and hesitated before taking a seat beside her. “How do you even know she will come?”
Candra snorted a quiet laugh. “Oh, she’ll come.”
“No one expects—”
“Don’t.” Candra cut him off, looking straight ahead. “A year ago, would you have hesitated?”
He took her hand from her lap and pushed his fingers through hers. She peered down at their entwined fingers. Dirt had gathered under her nails, and grime formed a rim around the cuff of her sweater.
“Yes.”
“Really?” She peeked up at him sideways.
Dark stubble shadowed his jaw, and his usually calm hair was unkempt, as if he’d been running his fingers through the messy strands. “I don’t relish death in any form. I never have. So, yes, a year ago, I would have hesitated.”
“You’re hurt,” she noted with no trace of alarm, reasoning she was becoming numb to the sight of blood.
Draven released her hand and pulled the sleeve of his jacket farther over his other wrist, covering the end of what looked like an ugly gash. “It’s nothing. I ran into some of Lilith’s minions while we were setting up,” he explained dismissively.
“I can heal that, if you’d like.”
He smiled. “No…thank you. You need your strength.”
Candra turned her gaze away, instead focusing on a crack in the back support of the pew in front of them. The weight of his attention bore down heavily on her. The heat of his palm radiated up her arm, and the remnants of whatever cologne he wore seemed to grow stronger with each breath she took, as if his body heat intensified the fragrance. Even without looking, he held her full attention.
“You should have told me the truth,” Candra whispered. “How long have you known about the Arch?”
“I’m not sure what I know.”
“Isn’t it weird for you? It was weird for me, trying to figure out what’s me and what isn’t.”
He squeezed her hand. “I’m not confused about my feelings for you, if that’s what you’re getting at. When everything advised against it, I loved you.”
Candra made no reaction, although her heart thumped faster. They were both aware she didn’t love Draven that way, and she couldn’t tell him she did. Her feelings for him paled when compared to what she felt for Sebastian, but they were there nonetheless.
“But why? Was it me?”
“I recognized something in you. I think as you did in me.”
Candra’s cheeks flooded with heat as she remembered their first meetings and the intense attraction between them nudged by his persuasion.
“It was your soul I fell for, Candra, and I could give you reasons to reassure you, but people don’t love each other for a list of reasons…not really. If anything, we love against all reason, and that’s just how it’s always been.”
“Did he know?”
“No,” Draven replied. “He wouldn’t have gone after the blade if he did. He would have known I couldn’t keep my promise to protect you.” He paused a moment. “Candra, remember that the blade in Lilith’s possession is an imitation, but it is still a weapon, and she can still hurt you with it.”
“I’m not afraid,” she began. “We build stuff up, and all we achieve is giving ourselves further to fall. I’m not afraid because I’m sure that whatever happens, there is nothing for me to fear. I guess disappearing seems a peaceful place to be right now, and if I’m not afraid, she can’t use that against me, right?”
Draven pulled her in close to his side. He let go of her hand and draped his arm around her. “I knew you were special from the moment I laid eyes on you, but even I could never have predicted what you are capable of. You are incredibly brave.”
“No, I’m not.” Candra leaned her head on his shoulder and closed her eyes. “I used to think I was. When I was younger, I couldn’t wait to grow up and save the world, one person at a time. I couldn’t wait to get away from here.” She exhaled noisily. “When it’s over, will you go back?”
Draven’s finger glided the length of her jawline with a featherlight caress and tilted her face to him. His navy eyes narrowed with intensity, and Candra caught a shimmer of gold. He didn’t speak. His hand reached for hers between them and lifted it gently, turning her palm upward. He watched the movement carefully and with the same utter fascination he’d shown the first time they met. The hairs along Candra’s forearm rose, and the nerves below her flesh came alive, reveling in the chaste gesture. Draven’s thumb traced a circle on her skin, and shivers rushed through her body as he ran the tip of his nose back and forth across her wrist. He inhaled deeply.
Candra thought about how little she understood Draven and his strange little rituals, or why this one affected her as it did. She was grateful for his company and grateful to have snatched any time with him at all. Her life had been richer with his presence as her friend, something she never dreamed possible in the beginning of their relationship, despite his assurances to the contrary.
“I will stay as long as you need me,” he said wistfully, curling both his arms around her.
