Page 74 of Mortal Things

She isn’t one of Raven’s messengers.

The woman holds out a green envelope to her, and Laine frowns as she takes it. Another god has sent a messenger to her.

Her pendant sends a cold, warning jolt through her. Immediately, she knows that this is the sign Étienne had warned her about. Gods do not go behind one another’s backs to get to their Harbingers. Not unless something is very wrong in the immortal realm. Not unless the balance of the world is at risk.

“What’s this about?” she asks, looking back up at the woman.

The woman nods at her. “Lady Willow requests your presence, Harbinger.”

27

I don’t remember gathering him in my arms and pressing my hand frantically against the nearest wall.

I don’t know exactly what I must have thought I could do to help him.

All I recall is picturing the Eternal Tree in my mind. There must be some way I can pull his soul away from there, keep the thread of light in him from joining the millions of others in the branches. If I’m supposed to contain the most powerful energy in the world, then why can’t I save him?

Time and space bend around me. One moment, I’m kneeling by the wall with Étienne in my arms—the next, Paris has vanished, leaving me crouching on the marble floor of the atrium in Raven’s estate.

I look around wildly, disoriented. The Eternal Tree towers before me, its majestic white branches curling up to the atrium’s open sky.

Étienne is nowhere to be seen. But my hand is still warm with the feeling of his soul, the familiar sensation of having claimed a life.

He’s gone.

I scramble to my feet and take a few steps toward the Eternal Tree. Then I halt at the sight of the tall silhouette standing before it, partly obscured by the gnarled branches, the power of his presence warping the space around him so that tendrils of darkness emanate from his figure.

Raven.

“Congratulations, my Regent,” he says as he approaches me, stepping across the white moss and stones until his boots click against the tiles. His immortal voice reverberates deep in my soul. His eyes are as grave as ever, entirely void of light, and in this moment, I can’t believe I ever saw a hint of his human self, that he was ever mortal.

“Is what he said true?” I scream at him. “Did you send Laine into my life? Is it all a lie?”

Raven tilts his head slightly to look at the tree, then back to me. He looks disappointed now, even tragic. But not surprised. “I told you that mortals cannot understand all the threads woven into the fabric of your world, that you cannot look down to see the full tapestry. You are a thread of that, Rose. The most important thread that has ever been woven into our timeline.”

I march toward him, my hands balled into fists, and he doesn’t attempt to move away. As I approach, I lift my fists and, with a cry, try to hit him in the chest. But suddenly he isn’t there, and instead, I just stumble forward. When I glance around, he’s standing a few feet away.

Again, I lunge for him, and again, he vanishes, only to reappear elsewhere.

Tears run down my cheeks. I stumble and kneel against the floor. “You tricked me,” I spit out.

“You knew, in your heart,” he answers. “Have you not always felt like you don’t quite belong in this world, that there is a wrongness in you?” His eyes narrow at me. “Did the Eternal Tree not call to you when you touched its bark?”

With a start, I think of the night of my confirmation, when I’d fled to the quiet shade of the tree and pressed my hand against its trunk. I remember the feeling of those billions of souls turning their attention toward me, eagerly sparking against my hand, acknowledging me, asking me to gift them life. I think of how Raven had frowned at me when I’d told him this feeling, as if it wasn’t supposed to happen. As if this is not how the tree would have felt to anyone else.

It was because I have the first light in my soul.

The anger surging in me makes my vision swim, and it takes me a moment to realize that my hands are clawing against the marble. “All this time, you’ve been using me.”

“You made a bargain with me,” he says, his voice emotionless, “and I honored it.”

“You didn’t tell me the true bargain! That you set up the entire thing! That is deception—or does deception mean nothing to immortals? Why did you even bother showing me your past, then—your life as a soldier, your mortal heart? Or are we just your playthings? Have you entirely forgotten your time as a human?”

His eyes narrow. “On the contrary, Rose,” he replies. “I remember it too well.”

And in spite of everything, I still feel that undeniable pull to him, my Harbinger bond, making me desire his approval and love, and want more than anything for him to use me and the power in my soul.

I open my mouth to argue with him again—