“Driftwood. Bobbing between worlds on the current is your namesake in this cycle, isn’t it? Blood meant nothing to you, whether it be your mother or Fauna, but that’s okay. The blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb, after all.”
My eye twitched. I knew the saying. I’d heard it in communist texts, in war histories, in anecdotal proverbial pocketbooks. And Fauna had said it. It meant blood was about choices, and bonds, and battle. Not about something beyond one’s control, like familial ties. But he didn’t stop there.
“You’re mad at me,” I said. In my years of foolishness, of mistakes, of ignorance, he’d never been truly angry with me before.
“No, I’mseeingyou,” he said. “I’m so devoted to your soul that I’ve been routinely failing to see this body, this iteration, this cycle. And in this life, you aren’t just Love. You’re Marlow, too.”
I opened my mouth, but there was only dust on my tongue where a plea for understanding should have been.
“You’ve won over realms. You’ve convinced long-standing enemies, fringe supporters, and even an ally who hasn’t talked to gods in thousands of years to stand with our cause. Because of your recent acquisition, gods are opening up to the public, and humans are turning to us in droves. Vexa responded to your stunt, her army has galvanized overnight, and they’ve spent the last twelve hours flooding socials with reactions to the concert, to the morning show, to the deities all around them. But you were always you.”
I wasn’t sure if I wanted to hear the end of his thought.
“This is the only life you’ve been awake. This is the one that matters. You’re making choices for every realm. You’re making choices for where many of us will end up. You’re making choices for whereyouwill end up. Who are you choosing?”
I nearly hiccupped on my breath. I moved toward the window, soaking in his full form as I stared at him. “What are you asking?”
“I’m asking why you called an archangel. You weren’t sure whether he’d orchestrated that event. In that moment, he could have ended the war by killing me.”
“I didn’t—”
“You thought he was our enemy, and you called him, Marlow.”
I flinched. My name was poison on his lips. “Don’t call me that.”
“But this name is a part of you. You aren’t just your soul; you’re also this human, this body, these lived experiences. And maybe Marlow wants a different fate for herself.”
I shook my head noiselessly.
Once again, he was a god in the midst of an utterly human apartment. Light from the windows created a halo around his shock of arctic fox hair as he stood with his back to the island. It was so hard to look at his face as his eyes burned silver with pain, metallic irises set on fire by the early sunlight. “Pieces of you thought he was on Heaven’s side. Apparently, those pieces still do, even now. And while locked in battle with his brother, you called him. It could have been Heaven’s one true shot to end me. He would have had a clean slice. I would have blinked out.”
“But you didn’t! He showed up on our side! I was wrong!”
“But,” he said, voice dropping, “you gambled.”
I clutched at my chest, hating the lace that rubbed between my fingertips. “Didn’t you? When you called in that top-tier favor? Wasn’t that a roll of the dice?”
“Yes,” he agreed solemnly. “With my life. With my kingdom. With the future of everyone in every realm other than you…but you didn’t gamblefor. You gambled against.” His shoulders slumped as he dragged his hand through his hair. He shook his head.
My mouth opened, lips working in mute, fruitless rebuttal.
“Marlow, I—”
“Don’t.” I swallowed the word. I didn’t have the luxury of remembering my past lives. But I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that he called me Love in all of them.
Caliban looked at Azrames.
“I’ve got her,” Az said. “I’ll watch after her, I mean.”
“I think,” Caliban said slowly, “she needs some time with Silas, without the pressure of who or what she has to choose.”
No. Gods almighty, no.
“The wards on this apartment are tight. And even if he’s been cut off from Heaven, Silas remains a powerful entity. I’d never leave her in danger.” Then to me, he said, “Part of taking care of you is allowing you to be you and giving you the space to figure out what you want.”
My hummingbird pulse was causing me to short-circuit. “You…you can’t be doing this. Are you…are you breaking up with me? Is that what this is?”
He cupped my jaw, brushing a thumb over my cheek. “No. Of course not. But…you’ve always been my Love. I need to let you decide whether or not I’m yours.”
