Page 109 of The Arcane God

Chapter Thirty-Nine

Ena

Ena held the baby in her arms, rocking him back and forth in the old, creaky rocking chair in the corner of the bedroom. She watched his eyelids get heavy and close as sleep overwhelmed him—his tiny breaths just evening into a steady rhythm—when she heard a light knock on the door.

Ty entered, his eyes searching the room briefly until they landed on her and Ladon.

Embarrassment and turmoil flooded her as their eyes met, and she looked away. She felt incredibly foolish for the way she’d abruptly left the planning meeting—it was unlike her to get so emotional like that. But what was worse was that she couldn’t exactly say what had happened, or why she’d felt that way. She knew Ty was about to ask her about it, though, and it made her tense all over again.

“Hey,” he said, coming cautiously over to her and speaking gently, as if to a spooked horse.

“Hi,” she replied simply, avoiding eye contact and pretending to be engrossed in the baby.

“You want to talk about what happened back there?” he asked calmly, but with a commanding directive to his voice.

Part of her wanted to push back—get angry at his tone—but she didn’t have the energy. Instead, Ena sighed, looking up at him reluctantly. “I’m sorry,” she said quietly, meeting his gaze with shame.

“Sorry for what?” he asked, his tone softening. He knelt down beside the chair she sat in, reaching out to put his hand over hers.

“For running away when everyone needed me. I—I don’t know what’s going on with me,” she said, feeling like an absolute failure all of a sudden.

She knew they all wanted her to Change and use her Gift—that it was the best idea they’d had for taking out Cole, something that she also really wanted. And not only that, but if she had this amazing ability, why would she not want to use it? This wasn’t like her Gift—it wasn’t forbidden. There was no one holding her back but herself.

She couldn’t explain it, but for some reason, the idea of using it absolutely terrified her. Like somehow, if she gave over to this new part of her, there’d be no going back to how she was.

“It’s okay,” Ty said gently, and the gentleness of his voice pissed her off. She didn’t deserve gentleness; she deserved to have someone yell at her, tell her to grow up and stop being a baby. She was a mom now, no longer a scared teenager. No longer a witch afraid of her rare Gift. She was over all that—she’d embraced it—and she needed to embrace this too.

But she wasn’t. She wasn’t even close to what she was supposed to be—how she was supposed to be—and that admission gutted her.

“It’s not okay, Ty!” she said, the words bursting from her and startling the baby, who stirred in her arms. Irritation instantly flooded her at her own carelessness, and she had to force herself to calm before she started speaking again. “I—I just can’t do it all. It’s too much.”

“What’s too much?” he asked, his brow furrowing as he looked at her with concern and love.

“Everything!” she said. Ladon had mercifully fallen asleep once more, and she could feel her emotions overwhelming her again, so she stood up and placed him gently in the crib Greya had given them, wondering how long they’d have before he stirred again.

“What do you mean everything?” Ty asked, his voice hushed so as not to wake the baby.

Ena gestured to the door, leading him quietly out into the hallway, and into the room next door where they’d slept. It was sparse after the fire that had burned the previous house—most of her furniture had had to be replaced, but her old bed was there, and a small armoire with an aged mirror on the front.

“Ena, talk to me,” Ty said as he shut the door behind them. “What is going on?”

Ena sighed again, looking at the floor—she couldn’t bring herself to look at him when she said what she had to say next.

“I don’t know who I am anymore, Ty,” she said quietly, the confession cutting her, even though the words were so simple. “So much has changed—too much. A year ago, I was just a witch. I was lost, searching, but I knew my place at least. And then I got a Gift I didn’t understand, and then you came back and burst my world wide open and then…”

She trailed off, finally finding the courage to look up into his beautiful green eyes. He was watching her with every ounce of his attention—listening—so she continued.

“When I followed you to the Underworld, I thought my place was with you. That I would follow you anywhere, because we fit, and then even after the ugliness that happened there, and the unexpected news of the pregnancy, it didn’t really scare me that much, because I had you back. But then…you were gone, Ty.”

She saw Ty swallow, his throat bobbing with the motion, as guilt and sadness flooded his eyes.

“I thought you were gone. And I didn’t know what to do without you,” she said, her heart aching at the memory of having to walk away from that river and continue life without him. “And I realized how lost I still was. That I couldn’t even stand on my own without you. And then, it turned out I was part stryx—and nowhere close to the person I thought I was—and then I became a mother, and I live for someone else’s needs, day in and day out, and now…I feel like I have no idea what I am doing, Ty. Or who I even am anymore. Who am I without you? Who am I without Ladon? Who am I now that I’m part witch and part stryx—what does that make me? Where do I fit now? It terrifies me to not know, because I feel like I’m…like I’m drowning with nothing to hold onto. And now you all need me to change more and I’m just not strong enough to handle it all. I need to be stronger.”

Ena’s confession echoed between them, and she felt her heart thumping in her chest. She felt both relieved and immensely guilty at the same time. Because how could she say all that? Shouldn’t she be grateful that Ty was alive, that their baby was healthy, that she was healthy? How could she possibly complain when she had all that?

She looked away again, but Ty wouldn’t let her. He reached out, grabbing her chin gently and tilting it up to look at him.

“Ena,” he said gently, but his tone was firm. “You need to hear me when I say this, because I’ve never meant anything more in my entire life. You are strong, my love. You are one of the strongest people I know. Struggling with everything—with all the ways your life has changed, and everything that has been asked of you—it does not make you weak. It makes you human. And you are strong, because you have endured it anyway. You have not been lost—you have just been enduring the chaos.”