The Singer
Page 82

“Brother, hold.” Max put a hand on Malachi’s shoulder.
“Take me to my mate!”
“Give her time to rest,” Sari said. “This is going to be a massive shock. I know you need to see her—you must be going out of your mind with it—but give her time. Otherwise your reunion could go very badly.”
Malachi vibrated with need. His heart was racing just knowing she was within reach. He ached for her, but he tried to think of Ava’s needs before his own. She thought him dead. It was going to be a shock no matter how much they prepared her. He slowly released the grip on the doorknob and stepped back.
“When?”
“It’s not even dawn,” Damien said. “Stay here. We’ll bring her to you later today. But let us give her time to prepare. Don’t forget, Malachi, she felt you die. You don’t remember that pain, because you were gone, but she lost half her soul that day. She barely ate. She has grieved, brother. This may be far more difficult for her to accept than any of us can know.”
“And you are not yourself,” Max added, squeezing Malachi’s shoulder. “You barely remember her. You barely remember any of your past. You love her, but you don’t know her anymore. You will have to learn each other again.”
“Give us time, Malachi.” Sari, the Irina whom so many regarded with frightened awe, came to him and embraced him. “Give your Ava time, and we will bring her to you.”
Chapter Twenty
As much as Ava enjoyed seeing Brooke at the scribe house in Oslo, she was anxious to get away. It only made her decision to go back to the human world that much harder. She didn’t want to witness the easy camaraderie of the Oslo scribes, which reminded her so much of Istanbul. She didn’t want to recognize the open adoration the men showered on Brooke and her mother—whom Ava had finally discovered was named Candace. They delighted in every childish story the girl told and answered any question Candace put to them. The older scribes were obviously more accustomed to Irina—one of the men was mated to Chelsea, who had been at Sarihöfn—but they doted on the women no less because of it.
They were exhausted from patrolling but still had time to cook breakfast for all of them and make them welcome in the large old house in the middle of Oslo. They welcomed Orsala with wonder, clearly honored to have the elder Irina in their home. They greeted Damien and Sari with respect. One young-looking scribe clearly had to hold himself back from openly embracing Ava when she walked through the door.
“They’ve come back,” she heard him whisper to his brother. He didn’t even try to hide the tears in his eyes. “Do you think… they’ve really come back?”
Ava tried to ignore it all. She hid in the small room they’d given her, ignoring their kind eyes and welcoming voices. She tried to sleep but couldn’t, even though she was exhausted. When she finally dozed off midmorning, she woke to see a familiar figure sitting near the foot of the bed.
“Rhys? What are you doing here?”
“No one had seen you for hours,” Rhys said quietly. A bashful smile was on his lips. “I’m sorry to intrude. It’s just… very good to see you, Ava.”
“What are you doing in Oslo?” Her voice was hoarse, and she reached for the bottle of water near the bed.
“Max called us. He’s in the city.”
“You left Turkey?”
He nodded. “Things happened. We needed to go to Vienna. I went to the archives there. Tried to find out more about your family. I… uh, I did find out a bit more, but where you come from is still a mystery.”
“It’s not important.” Not anymore.
He just nodded. “I met Orsala. She says you’re doing very well with your lessons. Says you’re going to be very powerful. A daughter of Leoc? That’s wonderful, Ava. Such a gift.”
“She’s a good teacher.” What would she do about living in the human world again? Would she continue to have visions? Would the spells Orsala had taught her continue to shield her? If so, she could live a far more normal life than she had before. Sure, she wouldn’t be in physical contact with the Irin again, and her anxiety would probably skyrocket, but she could deal. She’d dealt before. The drugs were improving all the time.
Awkward silence descended. Part of her was ecstatic to see Rhys again. Even with the friends she’d made at Sarihöfn, she’d still felt different. Set apart. She wondered if part of her would always think of Istanbul as home, simply because he’d been there.
But the other part of her—the pragmatic one—didn’t want to see any of Malachi’s brothers. Especially Rhys. She didn’t want to remember his grief or hers. Didn’t want to remember his friendship. After she left for London tomorrow morning, she wouldn’t see him again.
A clean break from everyone was better. She just hoped she could get to the airport without Damien finding out.
Rhys was still staring at her. “How have you been?”
She nodded. “Fine. Good.”
“You’re being very…”
“What?” She rubbed her eyes.
“I don’t know.” He smiled. “Sorry. It’s been so long since I’ve seen you.”
“Only a few weeks, really.”
Was it only a few weeks? Her days and nights had run together in one long ribbon of confusion, revelation, and grief.
“I suppose it only seems longer. We missed you very much.”