“Let me fix them,” I begged, taking a step forward. “I have the power now, I can take away your scars.”
She lifted the hand from her cheek, holding it up to me instead, palm facing me. “No!”
I ground to a halt—I hadn’t even realised I was still shuffling forward.
Her smile spread across her face again. “Seriously. I have come to terms with my scars, and they’re part of who I am now. They show my battle and how much I’ve overcome. I know you could take them away with one flick of your power, but I won’t be ashamed of my journey.”
Rocking back on my heels, I looked at her again, with different eyes. Ones that were not just seeing my own guilt. She had always been strong, willing to fight the good fight against the sols, but now she was so much more. She was a warrior, forged in fire, coming out stronger on the other side.
“You not only survived,” I said softly. “You have flourished. You’re stronger than I could ever be, and your scars do not detract from you in any way.”
“Beautiful and strong,” Yael agreed, stopping at my side. “Just like our Willa.”
Evie shot him a look. “I get suspicious when gods are nice to me, but since you Abcurses have learned to love a dweller”—she looked at me—“you must be one of the good ones.”
Yael leaned down and pressed a kiss to my head. “Dweller, sol, god … what’s the real difference?”
Emmy cleared her throat. “Thankfully Cyrus is not here to answer that question with something insulting.”
We all laughed, because his arrogance was almost endearing.
After that we focussed on helping Evie with her task. It took no time for Rome to pry the sol from the cooler area, and then the progression of food being loaded into the many bullsen carts that were waiting off the side of the kitchen went much faster.
We left Evie to her task then, returning to Cyrus, Coen, and Aros. “She is so strong and confident,” I murmured to Emmy. “I’m not sure I could bounce back like that after almost dying from burns.”
“We all have scars, Will,” Emmy told me. “Hers are just more visible than most others.”
“She looks amazing,” I said, voice low and trembling. “The only thing that bothers me about her scars is that I was the one responsible. I wish she’d let me heal her.”
Siret hugged me close before he ran a hand across my cheek. “She is healed. It was very clear that she was strong and whole. If her scars don’t define her, don’t let them define you. It wasn’t your fault; you were not in control of your powers because of what happened with us and with Cyrus being in your head. This is not your guilt to own.”
I decided he was right. I’d tried to fix my mistake, but it turned out that there was nothing left to fix. So I could be okay with what had happened.
Evie was as badass as ever.
When we reached the fence again, the line was moving once more. Cyrus looked bored as he watched those passing by, causing more than one to cry as they dashed past. When Emmy was close, his gaze turned to her, and warmth imbued his beautiful, cold features. He looked at her the same way the Abcurses looked at me, and no one should settle for a love that was anything less than that.
Cyrus swept an arm around Emmy, dragging her to him. “What took you so long?” I heard him murmur, but he didn’t let her answer because his lips landed hard on hers in a dominating kiss.
I turned away from them to find Coen’s gaze. “You okay, baby?” he asked, reading something in my face. I stepped into him, letting his warmth surround me as he hugged me tightly.
“I saw Evie,” I murmured against him. “I offered to fix her burns, but she said they’re part of who she is now. That she wears them with pride.”
He rubbed my back while I talked, and I let his touch soothe away the last of my guilt.
“You’re one of the best people I know,” he told me when I pulled back. “You would never hurt an innocent being. You make all of us better.”
“Not me,” Cyrus said from nearby. “No one does anything to me.”
He let out an oomph as Emmy punched him in the side. “Except Emmy,” he coughed out. “Emmy definitely makes me better.”
Emmy and I exchanged a grin, but before I could say anything more, a small man pushed through the crowds and hurried right up to us.
Until this point we’d been standing a little apart from the main crowd. Off to the side, keeping an eye on things—most sols and dwellers were maintaining a respectful distance, while watching us very closely.
This man stopped only two feet from Cyrus. “I found him!” he exclaimed immediately. “There is one holy leader left in the city. He’s heading this way now for your ceremony.”
Emmy grew very silent then, her eyes locked on Cyrus. I was trying to figure out what the hell Cyrus would need a holy leader for. What ceremony was this little man talking about?
