Page 38 of The Immortal’s Mark

We spend the remainder of our walk exchanging low-risk facts about ourselves. I learn Darcie is twenty and from Maine, a state in the northeastern part of the United States.

I listen intently as she briefly recounts the events that led her to leave her home two years ago to travel with her father.

“I’m impressed you manage to take courses even while traveling,” I say after she tells me of the courses she’s completed since leaving the States.

Darcie tilts her head forward, letting the long blonde bangs fall into her face. I resist the urge to reach out and tuck them behind her ear.

“It’s not like I really have anything else to do. I’m eager to get back home and start college full-time.”

A pang strikes my chest.

I ignore it.

“When will that be?”

“Not until next fall.” She releases a heavy breath. Then, she changes the subject. “I think I see it.”

She points toward the distant buildings where the top of the Parthenon peeks above their roofs.

She picks up her pace, and I am forced to lengthen my stride to keep up.

We maneuver through the crowd of tourists and walk up the winding path toward the ancient temple. Darcie’s face illuminates as she takes in the ruins ahead of us. The sight of her happiness threatens to stop my heart.

“I’m going to buy a ticket.” She points to the building at the bottom of the hill. “Do you want one?”

“Allow me.” Before she can object, I jog down towards the kiosk selling entrance tickets to the historic temple. Thankfully, the line is short.

Conversing in fluent Greek, I purchase the tickets from the middle-aged woman working the stand.

Minutes later, I return to Darcie’s side. She stands on the far edge of the walkway. I hold out her ticket.

“You didn’t have to do that,” she says. “I can pay for my own ticket.”

She’s still as independent as ever.

I smile. “Consider it a thank you for saving me from touring on my own.”

Thankfully, Darcie does not insist.

We proceed up the mild incline toward the ancient temple. Once or twice, I have to reach out and keep Darcie from slipping.

“Careful. The stone is worn down and slick.”

She steadies herself by grasping my arm tightly. I work to conceal my resulting shiver.

“Thank you,” she breathes with a slight grin. “That would’ve been embarrassing.”

At this distance, I can make out the tiny brown spots freckling her nose. They are unique to Darcie as far as my soulmates go, and I find them adorable.

She clears her throat and drops her hands.

Unwillingly, I release her and take a step back. “Shall we?”

She nods eagerly and proceeds to lead me further up the hill toward the Parthenon.

Our time in the ancient temple is enlightening.

I notice every time Darcie stops to examine something. Even if it is the smallest detail, her keen eyes observe every carved line or speck of marble.