and holding me tightly against him, so fiercely and with such swiftness that my head spun. “Never,” he muttered hoarsely in my ear. “I’ll never let you go. Not willingly, and no matter how you try to push me away.” He pulled back and stared into my eyes, his the molten gold of the wolf, all the ferocity and determination of the man he’d made himself into set in the lines of his face. I parted my lips, though I had no idea what I’d say, and he closed his mouth over mine, kissing me with drugging dominance and heartbreaking tenderness. He’d kissed me like that the night before, when I’d been bound naked to that bed under the rustling leaves. Kissing me endlessly as he crouched over me, refusing to touch me until I begged for him.
As abruptly as he seized me, he set me down, all satisfied male as he took in my dazed expression, probably knowing exactly how helpless with desire he’d made me. “I promised myself I wouldn’t fail to kiss you goodbye ever again,” he said, a hint of unsteadiness in his voice. “Good luck. Don’t let that huge rock crush you.” He nodded at Ambrose. “Take care of her or I will finally strangle you, wizard.”
“You won’t need to,” Ambrose replied cheerfully. “If Her Highness doesn’t make it through, none of us will.” He winked, though it lacked his usual insouciance.
“If Her Highness and Syr Ambrose are ready,” Mother said serenely, though I heard the unspoken finally in there, “drink of the waters and come with me.”
“Is it safe?” Con asked, fingers flexing as if he’d still rather be bashing something.
“This part I’ve done before,” I reassured him. “Many times.” It wasn’t pleasant, but repeated encounters with one’s own truth made it at least a familiar ordeal. And I learned something new every time, always useful, which mitigated the discomfort.
I sat on a boulder, slipped off my glove and boots, leaving them there, along with the crown. Then I unfastened the thick satin sash and shrugged out of the wrap tunic, discarding it so I wore only my leggings and a sleeveless camisole. Con and Sondra observed silently. I waded barefoot into the pool, the cold water always a shock no matter how often I’d done this, until I stood under the fall of water, the chill from deep inside Calanthe shivering over my skin. I tipped back my head, allowing the water to splash over my face, opening my mouth to drink.
The pure life of Calanthe bubbled through me, effervescent and vital. Distantly I wondered how this aspect of Calanthe could feel so peaceful and nurturing, while another face of her continually snarled in the background of my mind, raging for blood and death.
The same way, I supposed, that I’d been behaving—going from feeling radiant with love to snarling rage. You are a creation of human flesh, the floral body of Calanthe, and an extension of the goddess.
The truth hit me hard, cold and clean. I’d been fooling myself that I’d had any distance from Calanthe. I was Calanthe, an aspect of Her, made in Her image and animating a form created of Her body. I saw in a way I hadn’t before understood that, though I existed via magic, I could also wield magic. The orchid ring couldn’t be parted from me, because it had become an extension of my magic, just as I was of Calanthe’s. And I’d been lax and irresponsible in not learning how to wield that magic.
Because, though I was an extension of the goddess, I possessed all the flaws and failings of human flesh. Con was correct that I was a human woman, however bizarrely birthed. And I’d made so many mistakes.
They paraded themselves for me, all the errors in judgment, passion, pride, and vanity. This moment could indeed eviscerate a person, those unwilling to face the ugly reflection of their full selves. But I’d been here before, and while I indulged various foibles in myself, I’d always tried my utmost to be honest about my flaws, about the truth of my life. Denial was a luxury I’d never been able to afford.
And so I couldn’t deny that I had indeed conceived a child, one that could be a True Heir, to one day take the orchid ring. I also had to face the truth of my own heart. Of course I’d fallen in love with Con. That wasn’t something that would change or dissipate. It didn’t