It’s hardly an ominous threat, but I can tell from the tone of command in my head that he’s losing his patience with my little rebellious act.There’s a fine line between holding his attention and irritating him.I may be getting close to crossing it.I pivot on my heel, and then I trip over the ends of my new wings and fall flat on my face.This upgrade may take some getting used to.“You want to know the same things I do.”I brush the ice from my white pants, my hands stinging from the cold.“Be patient for a little while, and as soon as my body relaxes and my memories return, I’ll tell you what happened.”
If your defective human brain can recover them.
“Exactly,” I say.“But what do you have to lose?”
My sanity?
My bark of laughter actually hurts.I’ve missed his droll sense of humor.First he died.Then when I escaped from the human camp, I had him for mere moments before losing him again.
And now?
He’s right in front of me, and he couldn’t be further away.
What’s wrong?
I swipe at my eyes and shake my head.“Just waiting for my brain to reboot.”
Damage to your brain causes your eyes to leak?Humans really are poorly designed.
“I can’t even argue with that.”
Do you wish we were still bonded?His tone’s light—curious.
I think about it for a moment, and I decide to tell the truth.“I do.”
Why?
How much is too much?The old Azar...these words would have meant nothing to him.I say them as much to test him as anything else.“I loved you—the bond brought us closer.I miss that connection, just like I miss you.”
But I’m right here.
“The Azar I knew is gone.”As I say it, it really hits me how true it is.He’s deader now than he was when they were keeping me in confinement.At least then I had hope, but now my Azar reallyisgone.Our relationships, our interactions—they’re delicate.Every person we love is connected to us by an intricate web we create with our words and actions, and the trust we’ve built...once it’s ripped away, who we are fundamentally changes.
I’m more powerful now.Is that what you mean?
“Sure,” I say.“Yes.”
His nostrils flare, and he tosses his head.It’s time to go back.Hyperion and the others will be concerned about my abrupt departure.
He can say that again.I bet Hyperion crapped a brick—maybe a whole pile of them.“Are you offering me a ride, or are we cruising back?”
Would you accept a ride?
“I’d rather ride on your back than clutched in your claw.”
I assume you did this before?
I nod slowly.
I don’t like not remembering.It feels like a weakness.
And weakness wasn’t allowed among the Blessed.Every person in his life would have seen it as a liability.“None of the Blessed liked me much,” I say.“Not remembering me won’t make you look bad.Trust me.”
He’s quiet as I fly up and over his shoulder and settle in on his back.The ridges are familiar, and it feels like every single thing we used to do is just one more slice on my poor heart.At this rate, I’ll never heal.I may as well cut my heart out and be done with it.
Can you at least tell me why we came to Iceland?
“When you told me about the heart, I told you about something that happened to me as a child.A group of humans kidnapped me and tried to throw me into the volcano you and I just left.They kept chanting ‘heart’ in Icelandic.”
