Page 83 of May: Bloom & Bane

—EDEN

Istartle awake, surrounded by the scent of damp wood and the realization that the light filtering through the canopy is no longer the pale light of my fifteen-minute reprieve; it’s the harsh glare of afternoon.

“Sage?” I whisper, glancing around the meadow.

How long was I asleep?

Every step toward the house makes my heart pulse with guilt. After fifty steps, I hit a sticky patch of air, and my body bounces back.

Is this how Therael was able to mask my scent? Some kind of blockage?

“Sage!” I yell, throwing my weight against the shimmering air, but this time I go barreling right through. The veil releases me, and I stumble forward into sunlight. My foot catches on something enormous. I pitch forward, arms windmilling as the ground rushes up. A hand closes around my waist, fingers overlapping at my spine, catching me right before my face crashes into the earth. I hang there, suspended, hair swinging in front of my face.

Sage is lying in the grass, flat on his back at the barrier’s edge, wings spread wide beneath him in the dirt. His eyes are red-rimmed.

His arm bends, and he pulls me against his chest. His heartbeat thuds under my palms.

“There you are,” I whisper.

“Hi, Saevúra.”

“I fell asleep, Sage. I didn’t mean to run away and leave you out here for hours.”

His face softens. “You didn’t run away; you just needed some time to yourself. I understand.”

I glance at the fruits crowding us. They’re arranged in specific patterns and definitely weren’t here earlier. “What is all of this?”

He fidgets with his hands. “I was waiting, and I didn’t know what to do with my hands.”

Small, vibrant clusters of violet-skinned berries similar to grapes, but tear-shaped. Pale blue, fluffy fruits shaped like the crown of a pineapple. And translucent golden strips that catch the sun and reflect it like precious jewels.

I push up from Sage’s chest and walk among the clusters, my fingers brushing over the different fruits.

“This is beautiful, Sage. It looks like they grew in special designs.” I look up at him, squinting toward the sun. “They almost look like they were woven.”

“Sometimes I forget how tiny you are,” he mumbles under his breath. Before I can ask what he means, his arms wrap tightly around my waist. “Hold on to me.”

With a powerful snap of his wings, we’re launched upward, the air whipping past us in a rush of crushed berries. He hovers a hundred feet or so above the meadow, his wings beating just enough to keep us suspended.

“Look down,” he whispers into my ear.

My breath catches when I glance down. They aren’t just fruits at all. They’re an apology: Ílyara, I’ll wait until you’re ready.

The words span the entire clearing. A massive, edible vow woven into the very heart of his meadow.

“You did all of this while I was sleeping?”

“I told you,” he murmurs, his grip tightening as he tucks my head under his chin, “I didn’t know what to do with my hands.”

I bury my face in the crook of his neck. “Can I pick some?”

He starts our descent. A smooth, stomach-flipping glide back to the ground. His arms loosen around me, but mine stay locked around him.

“Sage—”

“I said you were the source,” he interrupts. “I wasn’t calling you a source. You have to know that. I was pointing out that’s what you are to his hunger.”

“I know, Sage.” I cup his cheek, and he leans into my palm, his eyes fluttering shut. “So… can I take some of these home?”