“Not really. But at least you won’t make me pass out, which is an improvement over most partners you’re going to find around here.”
“True.”
Malachi sheathed the knife and tried to calm a heart that still raced. “Leo, do you still want to spar?” he asked. “I’ve been on a plane all morning and I’d love to stretch my legs.”
“Of course.” The big man picked up the second staff that was lying on the mat of the training room. “Ava, Orsala arrived with Mala.”
Ava groaned and covered her eyes. “No.”
Malachi went to her and kissed her temple. “She’s probably with Rhys in the library, devising more magical torture for you. The longer you delay, the worse it will be.”
“Save me,” she said.
“I will battle Grigori for you, canım,” he said gallantly. “I’ll abandon heaven and cross continents.”
“My hero!”
“But I will not interfere with that old singer’s plans. Do you think I want to die again?”
She slapped his backside and walked toward the door. “Leo, kick his ass for me. He’s getting way too cocky.”
Malachi only laughed. “I love you, Ava.”
Leo said, “I love you too, Ava. Good luck with Orsala.”
“Both of you—useless!”
“MALACHI?”
He looked up from his drawing pad. “Orsala?”
The old woman smiled tentatively when she walked into the room. She wore the silver hair and lined face of an Irina who had stopped her longevity spells. Malachi had heard her mate had been killed years ago, so allowing herself to age and pass away was not unexpected.
“Am I interrupting?” she asked.
“Not at all.” He pushed the sketches to the side. He had several talesm he’d been planning to scribe once they were back in Istanbul, and he needed to practice the characters. But sketching could wait. Malachi had a feeling she wanted to talk about his mate. “Is Ava—”
“She’s fine. Resting, I think. She went to your room with a headache. I believe she was becoming frustrated.”
He rose to go to her, but Orsala put a hand on his shoulder. “If I could have a moment…”
Malachi paused. “What is it?”
“She is very resistant.”
“To using her magic?”
“Yes.”
“I know.” He took a deep breath. “She’s afraid of what she can do.”
She smiled, and warm creases formed around her silver-blue eyes. “I do not want to interfere. Or ask you to break her confidence. I want to help her.”
“Let me talk to her again.”
“Thank you.”
“I warn you, though.” He gathered his papers and turned to leave. “I will not pressure her to use her magic if she’s not ready. My loyalty is to her, not any cause.”
“As it should be,” Orsala said. “You remind me much of my own mate. He was highly protective, even when I was at my strongest.”
“It is when we are strongest that we often don’t protect ourselves,” he said. “Whatever her destiny is in this life, it is my job to defend her.”
“For the Irina, I think the time has come for offense, not defense.”
He shook his head. “I’m not talking about the Irina. I’m talking about Ava. I will not let her be dragged into a war of your making, Orsala. However much I may support your cause, her part in it will be of her choosing.”
“She has not chosen this,” the old woman countered, “but Jaron has. The Fallen has targeted her.”
“And protected her.”
“I know.” Orsala stepped closer. “We need to know why. There is a darkness in her. A darkness to her magic that I have never seen before.”
“I do not fear her darkness.”
“Nor should you. But we need to understand it so we may understand her. She needs to understand herself, Malachi. If you do not fear the darkness, then do not shield your mate from it, either. Sometimes we must do exactly the thing that terrifies us most in order that we may live the life we were meant to have.”
WHEN he reached their bedroom, he knocked. It was their shared room, but if she was exhausted—
“Come in, Malachi.”
He pushed the door open. Ava was lying on the bed in a beam of sunlight, the sun catching red strands in her hair. Her eyes were closed. Her forehead smooth.
“Orsala said your head was hurting.”
“I lied. Kind of.”
He toed off his shoes and lay down next to her. “What’s wrong?”
Ava rolled over to make room for him. “You know, I think this was what I missed the most when you were gone.”
He said nothing. The fact that she was talking about her grief was extraordinary enough. He didn’t want to interrupt her.
“I missed lying next to you. Just… that. Not sex. Not even your touch. I missed all those things, but it was just… you. Being here. Knowing that someone gave a shit about me other than my mom. Knowing you were beside me at night.” She moved her leg over to hook it around his knee. “I could reach out for you if I needed you. Or just wanted you. When I had that… I’d never had that before.”
He took a deep breath. “Sometimes I feel as if I’m a second mate. As if you grieved for someone entirely different. That you still grieve.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t.” He rolled over and watched her face in profile. Her eyes were still closed. But now there were lines of tension on her forehead. He took a finger and smoothed them away. “Don’t be sorry. You lost me, but I never lost you. I think I would go quite mad if our roles had been reversed. The man I am now has always had you. My memories began with you, so I never felt the pain you did. You were where I began, Ava. I was the lucky one.”
She choked out a laugh even as the tears leaked from the corner of her eye. “You were the one who died.”
“But that pain only lasted a heartbeat. Yours lasted for months. Please, don’t hide your grief from me.”
“I’m afraid,” she whispered. “At night I wake up, and for a second, you’re gone again.”
“Reach out. You’ll find me.”
“I’m afraid if I reach for you, I’ll find out this is a dream. That I’m caught in some kind of delusion. I don’t know what’s real in the dark.”
He rolled over and drew her back to his chest, wrapping his arm around her waist. He called up the ancient magic that lived in his skin, allowing his talesm to glow. “Look, Ava.”
She opened her eyes.
“When the darkness comes, reach for me.”
She said nothing, but he could feel her fear.
“What are you afraid of? It’s not just losing me again.”
“I don’t—”
“Don’t lie.” He tapped a finger against her temple. “I can tell.”
“I think…” She put her hands over his and gripped them tightly. “I think my magic is evil, Malachi.”
“It’s not evil. I’ve felt it. It’s beautiful.”
“It’s dark.”
“Dark does not equal evil.” He took a deep breath and felt her match him. They lay together, quietly enjoying the afternoon sun. “Is this because of what happened on the roof with Jaron?”
“It’s more than that.”
“Tell me.”
Ava said nothing for a long while.
“I saw a black angel once,” she whispered. “There was a Grigori attacking me in Norway. He’d broken into the room with another who’d gone after Mala. They were trying… I don’t know what they were trying to do. Kill us? Capture us for Volund, maybe? But he was on me, and I’d made him angry by fighting back. His hand was on my throat.”