“I promise I’ll be diligent, Nyleeria.”
And just like that, a heavy blanket of his imminent departure settled over us.
“I don’t want you to be diligent,” I said, sobering. “I want you to be safe.”
He stepped into my space, and my breath hitched as he held my gaze with an intensity that had my powers swirling, reaching, grappling—for him. A thick silence fell between us. One lacking space and oxygen. One full of something charged. Something I couldn’t name.
Leaning in a bit further, his voice was laced with a low apology as he said, “I have to go.”
“I know,” I whispered, my powers tightening around my chest like a vise.
Then, while staring into his depthless eyes, his powers rallied around him.
Panic surged through me, and I instinctively reached out my hand for his.
I came up empty.
He was gone.
Chapter 18
Birth of Burden
Iblinked, staring into the empty space where Endymion had vanished, the deep, familiar scent of him lingering. Feeling it, I closed my eyes and let the remnants of his magic wash over me. He was gone; and damn him and my powers to the underworlds if I didn’t have to rub my chest where an ache nestled in.
Opening my eyes, I raised my chin and stared down the tunnel to his residence as if it were him.
“I will not anchor to you.”
Suddenly, the gifted bandolier sat heavy, and I looked down at it with incredulity.
“I don’t want to hear it.”
Shaking my head, I turned on my heel and made for the courtyard.
As always, Caius greeted me with a broad smile, and I couldn’t help but mirror it.
Mischief danced in his eyes as he took me in. “I have to admit—your fashion choice is… different, but you seem to make it work.”
Looking down, I chuckled. I hadn’t even considered the implications of wearing a bandolier over my beautifully delicate top. Notlike the flowing pink skirt helped. Ignoring the reason I hadn’t changed, I shrugged. “You can always blame my poor fashion sense on being raised human. I wouldn’t want to tarnish the Summer Court’s sterling reputation. Now, would I?” I winked.
A deep laugh rumbled from his chest. “No, we wouldn’t want that. I suppose we can blame a great many things on that. I wonder, though,” he tapped a finger on his chin in mock thought, “when do you think it will expire?”
“I’m not sure, but hopefully we have eternity to find out.”
“Ah yes, eternity.” His smile slowly faded. “I was wondering, Nyleeria, if it’s not too personal, what does it feel like to become immortal?” Genuine curiosity lit his sharp, darkly tanned features.
I snorted. “I’ll let you know when I figure that out.”
He stared at me expectantly, and I ran my fingers down the stitching of the soft leather as I considered his question.
“I don’t know, to be honest. As human, my life was measured in years, my expectancy mere decades. I default to thinking in hours and weeks. I’ve lived twenty-one years, while you’ve lived over five hundred—it’s hard to fathom. Actually, I have a similar question for you. About time.”
“Go on,” he gestured, still alight with interest.
“I’ve been thinking. Do you believe time is an actual construct or a relative one? Because, if one is immortal, then time doesn’t dictate their life. I mean, yes, pragmatically there are reasons for it—such as meeting someone—but in the grander scheme, does time ultimately matter?”
Caius cocked his head and seemed to look at me differently. “Are you sure you’re only twenty-one, Nyleeria?”
