Page 234 of May: Bloom & Bane

The trees begin to thin, and a low rumble starts beneath me—deep in his chest, rolling up through my palms. He’s purring. A mighty judge of souls is purring like a kitten because somewhere past those trees, is his mate.

Golden light breaks through the branches. A large cabin sits ahead, its eaves heavy with snow, smoke curling from the chimney, every window glowing warmly. He slows, his stride softening to a trot before he stops twenty feet from the porch. His tail unwinds from my hips and he lowers me onto the snow, steadying me until both my feet are certain.

The cabin door flies open and I flinch a step backward.

She’s small, only an inch or so taller than me. Long dark hair spills down her back. She’s wearing a silver sweater and only has one sock on. She stands frozen in the spill of light with her hands covering her mouth.

Her feelings crash over me like a dam giving way. An overwhelming amount of love floods me so quickly I have to grab onto his shoulder so I don’t tip over.

She sprints, skipping the last step and running through the snow in one sock, her arms already open. I walk toward her without meaning to, my hands leaving my belly for the first time all night⁠—

“You,” she sobs. “Oh my God, it’s really you. It’s YOU.” She catches me carefully, her arms wrapping around me. She buries her face in my shoulder and quivers.

I don’t know this woman. And yet, I know her more than anyone else I have ever known.

She pulls back, her hands sliding to my shoulders, and she studies me. Her eyes sweep over my face, my hair, the tears freezing on my cheeks.

“You’re so… different,” she whispers, letting out a wet, disbelieving laugh. She studies me for another second. “I know none of this makes sense to you. You walked into the woods with a broken heart and a stranger called you the wrong name. So we’re not going to do this out here in the cold. I’m not going to hand you three thousand years in a snowbank.” She tucks a strand of hair behind my ear like she’s done it ten thousand times, and my chest squeezes at how familiar it feels. “I’ve waited so long for you. I can wait one more pot of tea.”

The cabin smells like clove and vanilla. She tucks me into the coziest-looking chair by the fire, burying me under two quilts and puts a mug in my hands before I’ve finished a single breath. Her mate, human-shaped again, scoops her up and sits her on his lap across from me.

“I am going to give you the most condensed version I can, which is not how I thought this would happen, but there are—extenuating circumstances and time is of the essence.”

“Okay,” I murmur.

“First,” she starts. “This is our third life together. We started this whole cycle three thousand years ago.”

I stare at her in disbelief, but I nod for her to continue.

“Second, my mate, Andrik, and your mate are brothers. Andrik has lived two lives; your mate has lived three.”

My eyes flick to him. Something hard to read settles across his face.

“Third.” Her fingers lace together in her lap. “In our first life, there was an accident, and before I tell you what happened, you need the rule that governs everything else, so listen carefully.” She holds my eyes. “He is not the villain in this story—not at all. He was handed a compass that pointed true and a map that was wrong. That is the whole tragedy, Eden. Not cruelty. Blindness.”

“What kind of accident? He who?”

“The kind where everyone was reaching for someone they loved and the ground ran out.” She gives me a sad smile. “Your mate’s soul, in his first life, felt a pull toward the wrong person, because she carried a piece of the soul he was made for. He couldn’t stop it any more than you could stop your heart from beating right now.”

The bond thrums beneath my ribs.

“There was a fight between the brothers, both trying to protect someone, too close to an edge. And someone fell. By accident. And he—” her voice cracks, “—he went off that cliff after her before she hit the water. He gave up his whole life for that little, tiny piece inside her.”

My hand presses over my sternum.

“In the second life—fate repeated itself, in a much darker story. The same soul, led astray by someone who built it that way. The gods have spent thousands of years hunting whatever hand designed it. Blame the design, Eden. Not the boy who walked the maze in the dark and kept walking it, life after life, until it finally, finally led him to you.”

“If Andrik and Sage are brothers, and you are mated to Andrik, and we have always been sisters, and Sage chased the wrong soul… you’re saying⁠—”

She nods.

“That’s what Ashán was trying to tell me. It was you. And they never—” The last piece slides into place. “They were never chasing you. They were chasing me. The piece of me you were keeping.”

“For three thousand years,” Lumi whispers.

It was always— The broken sentence finally lands the way he meant it. You. It was always you.

A tiny cry comes from the other room, and Lumi’s face lights up.