And then we’re up on our feet, and we’re clutching each other. Holding on so tight. He spins me around, making a smile spread across my face—spread across my entire soul.
When we stop, we clash into a desperate kiss. I kiss him with devotion and need. He kisses me with awe and adoration.
I don’t need the divinity of the goddesses.
Because with him, I have what I’ve always wanted.
Love.
Whole. Unconditional. Healing. Beautiful. Pure. Love.
When we pull away, our eyes still locked together, I can feel our pair bond singing. Can see his dark aura drifting off his body, with tendrils of gold.
But I can also see the devastation stabbed into him.
A tear escapes the corner of my eye because I can see his hurt. His grief. I want to take all his pain away.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper. “I’m so sorry I left you for a little while.”
He smiles softly, hand cupping my cheek, gaze intense over my face. “You came back to me.”
I nod, lashes wet, chest full. “I’ll always choose you.”
“I’ll always choose you too, Auren,” he says before kissing me again. My wings curl around us like they want to hold us in a cocoon, cloistered and safe.
We cling to each other, our heartbeats in tune, our love spilling over. When he pulls back to look at me, his gaze crawls over every inch of my face, trembling fingers stroking over my skin.
His forehead presses against mine, and I hear his ragged breath. “Don’t leave me again.”
My heart squeezes.
“I won’t,” I promise.
After another devastating kiss that he presses to my lips, his gaze casts behind me, and I look over my shoulder at my wings.
They’ve folded together against my spine, but I spread them out again, turning around so we can both get a better look. His hand skates over the smooth curve of the top, and I shiver slightly.
“Your ribbons…” he says, and I nod.
My wings drift open and close slightly, like a butterfly resting on a flower. They’ve clearly been formed by twelve strips of ribbons on each side, each piece melded together. At the bottom and the very ends, the ribbons are long and stretched out, looking just like…feathers.
Instantly, I remember the story Slade told me as I was dying. About what that nickname really meant for him. For us.
As if to punctuate its meaningfulness, Elore suddenly appears, her face wet, expression joyful. “Goldfinch,” she utters as she cries through a smile. “Goldfinch.”
I surge forward and wrap my arms around her in a hug. “Thank you,” I whisper into her hair.
Thank you for leading him to me.
Thank you for leading me tomyself.
When she pulls away, she gestures to the ground. “Goldfinch.”
I look around, noticing for the first time that the land is gray and dead. Wrong.
Something comes over me then. A presence, a sense of intuition. Like the stars themselves are beckoning…encouraging.
I kneel down, pressing my hands against the silt.
