It was like an interview. Malachi was asking me to sell myself. All of my usual qualities fell flat. Efficiency, team work, critical thinking—all great for a lab environment but utterly useless for keeping me alive in the eyes of a God.
“I don’t let people close to me, but when I do, I give them everything,” I admitted quietly, unable to look him in the eye. “I want to protect them. Malachi, I don’t wish to ascend. I don’t want a place in Elysia. I want to live my life and watch my brother get married and maybe become an aunt one day.”
“And when they’re gone?”
My throat closed up, and I blinked at him. Immortality hadn’t quite sunk in. I was in my late twenties and the gift of divinity meant that I’d have a million lifetimes ahead of me. While Cass grew old with Sophie, I would be stuck as I was. My heart clenched painfully in my chest.
“You don’t appear to be a threat,” Malachi said, standing up, completely oblivious or maybe uncaring to the tailspin he’d sent me into. “But you should discuss options other than a funeral with Grayson. I have a feeling you won’t be needing such dire plans.”
I opened my mouth to respond, but he left my lab and I dropped my head onto the desk.
Every time I felt like I might get through this, every time I jumped over a hurdle, something else happened that pulled me under.
Shoving my laptop into my bag, I grabbed my things and finally left the building. It was pointless frustrating myself by staring at data points when my brain refused to process them. The better plan would be to head home, crawl into bed, and hope I could switch off from everything for a few hours.
As I made my way towards the tube, the car long damaged and abandoned after the earthquake, something caught my eye. Further up the road was a white brick building. A small group of people spilled out onto the streets, and I held back, letting them disappear around the corner before stepping up to the entrance.
The last time I’d stepped foot into a temple was for my parents’ funeral. My memories of that day were hazy, but I remembered swearing I would never visit a temple again. I officially washed my hands of the Gods that day and never doubted my decision.
Until now.
Stepping over the threshold of the building, I toed off my shoes and placed them in a holder in the entrance hall. The nerves coursed through me until I shook and the numbness trickled through my body. I pressed my tongue to the roof of my mouth and took a slow and measured pace into the main hall.
The room was empty, smoky trails of incense wafting lazily through the air and making the room somewhat inviting. The lighting was dim, and I walked up the central aisle until I reached the front and lowered myself to the floor, legs curled beneath me.
When I was younger, I used to sit beside Dad and fidget. I couldn’t bow my head long enough, couldn’t focus on begging for what I desired. Cass had always been better with his religious intention and rather than being the black sheep of the family I pretended. But the older I got, the more questions I had until I couldn’t contain them. Dad answered as openly and honestly as he could, and I loved him even more for never forcing the matter on me. He never questioned when I stopped attending temple as frequently.
What would he think of me now?
“This was the last place I expected to find you.”
I jumped at the voice, too caught up in nostalgia to hear the steps or follow intuition.
“Larkin,” I said, tipping my head back to look up at her. “What are you doing here? Are you following me?”
“Yes.”
I blinked at the blatant honesty that flowed from her. Larkin threw her sheet of blonde hair over her shoulder and joined me on the floor, gracefully folding her legs and staring ahead at the bare white wall. No distractions were permitted while the faithful sought guidance.
“Why?” I asked eventually, unable to tear my eyes away from her flawless face.
“Because you might actually listen to me. Hunter, Grayson, and Archer won’t. Men.” She spat out that single word. “Always thinking they know best.”
“Fatal flaw,” I agreed.
Larkin turned her head, meeting my eye, and I swallowed hard. She didn’t instil a sense of comfort or trust in me. Even before I discovered my divinity, Larkin made me feel unworthy, and a vote against me in the chambers crushed any crumbs of hope that I’d misread the situation.
“Quentin,” she said, expelling a breath. “I want you to consider what you’re trying to do.”
“I’m not sure I understand.”
“You’ve seen what Elysia holds. How the council was split over the decision. I know Gray might have promised you the heavens because you’re soulbound but—"
The word shoved my neat thought process off track, and I stuttered, “W-we’re not… Why would you…”
Larkin’s brows drew together. “He didn’t tell you.”
The world around me felt unsteady. No one knew we were a couple, and Larkin just said we were soulbound.
