Aria’s POV
I couldn’t speak.
For a long mont I just stood there. In the middle of those pale flowers, in that impossible soft light, with Artemis pressed warm against my side.
Staring at her.
*The Moon Goddess.*
My mouth opened. Closed. Opened again.
"I—" The word ca out like I’d forgotten how words worked. "You’re—"
She looked at with that sa patient, gentle expression. Like she’d waited through longer silences than this and had no objection to waiting through mine.
I moved without thinking.
My legs bent. My head dropped. So deep, ancient instinct pulling downward before my brain could say anything about it.
Her hand caught mine before I made it halfway.
"None of that." Her voice was soft. Completely certain. She drew back upright, her fingers light around my wrist. "You’re not a subject. You’re mine." A pause. Those eyes—ageless, warm—held mine. "What mother wants her child to bow to her?"
Sothing cracked open in my chest.
I couldn’t explain it. It wasn’t grief exactly. It wasn’t joy. It was so third thing that existed in the space between the two—sothing that had been sealed shut for so long I’d forgotten it was there, and now it was open, and I didn’t know what to do with the air.
She let go of my wrist.
Sat back down in the grass like the most natural thing in the world. And looked at with that small, knowing smile.
"You’ve been apart from her for a long ti," she said simply. "I think you should take a mont."
I looked down.
Artemis was already looking up at .
---
I dropped to my knees in the flowers.
It wasn’t graceful. I didn’t care.
Artemis stepped into my arms again—that sa steady warmth, that sa impossible solidity, that silver fur under my hands—and I pulled her in and just *held on.*
"Where did you go?" My voice ca out muffled against her fur. Raw at the edges. "I looked for you. Every day. I kept reaching for you and there was just—nothing. Just silence." My arms tightened around her. "I thought you were dead. I thought I’d—that you were gone and it was my fault, and I thought—"
She shifted. Pulled back just enough to look at .
And then—slow, deliberate, impossibly gentle—she pressed the side of her muzzle against the palm of my open hand.
Like she was answering .
I laughed. Or cried. I wasn’t totally sure which.
"Okay." I pressed my hand against her face and felt her lean into it. "Okay. Tell ."
*It hurt,* she said. Not in words exactly—it never was. More like the aning landed in my chest directly, bypassing language entirely. *After they gave the poison. It hurt in a way I didn’t know it was possible to hurt.*
My jaw tightened.
"I know." I’d felt the edges of it. I hadn’t known the whole shape. "I’m sorry."
*Don’t.* Firm. Her eyes t mine steadily. *But it would have been—worse. Except she protected .*
I looked up. Over Artemis’s head, toward the woman in white.
The Moon Goddess was watching us. That expression still there—gentle, patient, the sadness that wasn’t quite sadness.
"She protected you," I repeated quietly.
The goddess t my eyes and nodded. Once. Simply.
I looked back at Artemis. My hand still cupped against her jaw. Her silver eyes steady and direct and entirely, unmistakably herself.
"So why didn’t you co back?" I asked. My voice ca out softer than I’d intended. "When you were better. When the poison wore off. Why—" My throat tightened. "I needed you. There were so many tis I needed you and you weren’t there."
Artemis was quiet for a mont.
*I was too weak at first,* she said. *For a long ti. Longer than it should have taken.*
"But then?"
She looked at .
That look that was always sohow more direct than words. More honest. The thing I’d always loved about her and the thing that was hardest to hold.
*By the ti I was recovered,* she said slowly, *I had already found sothing I needed to do. Sothing more important than coming back to you right away.*
I waited.
*You have children to protect, Aria.*
I blinked.
"My children are—I an, they’re not babies. Lina’s only three but she’s—she’s growing up, and they’re—"
*No.* Patient. Unmistakably certain. *Not them.*
I stopped.
The word landed strangely in my chest. Like sothing clicking into a space I hadn’t known was there.
"What do you an not them?" I said carefully.
Artemis looked at with those silver eyes.
And I felt it—sothing shifting. Sothing hovering at the edge of what I understood.
"What child?" My voice ca out smaller than I expected. "What are you talking about? What—"
But even as I asked, sothing else was happening.
The fog around us was changing. Not dramatically—just shifting, thinning in places, thickening in others. The light stayed soft but seed to pull at slightly. Like it was pointing sowhere.
Like ti was running.
I reached out. Got both hands around Artemis’s face. Looked at her directly.
"Co back with ," I said. "I don’t want to go back without you. I can’t—" My voice broke slightly. I steadied it. "I can’t do it again. The silence. I can’t."
She looked at .
That expression I knew. The one that ant *yes, and also, not yet, and also, I love you.*
*I am always with you,* she said. *You just couldn’t hear .*
My eyes burned.
"That’s not the sa thing."
*I know.*
"Co back," I said. "Please. I’m asking you to co back."
Artemis was quiet for a mont.
Then she stepped forward. Pressed her forehead against mine the way she had before. Warm. Solid. Completely present.
*When the ti is right,* she said, *I will co back to you. I will bring everything I have been holding. All of your strength. All of your gifts.* A pause. *Every piece of yourself I have been keeping safe for you.*
"And when is that?" My voice ca out rough. "How long?"
She pulled back far enough to look at .
*Soon,* she said simply.
Not enough. Not nearly enough.
But I could see in her eyes that it was the only answer she had, and that she ant it, and that it was true.
I exhaled. Let go of her face. Pressed my palm flat against her neck, feeling her warmth under my hand. Feeling her *there*, real, present.
"You’d better," I said. "I’ll be angry if you don’t."
She made a sound that was entirely and absolutely a laugh.
---
I stood up slowly.
My legs felt strange. Light. The ground under my feet less solid than it had been.
I turned back to the Moon Goddess.
She was already watching . Both hands resting in her lap. That patient, warm expression.
"She says there’s a child," I said. "A—" I swallowed. "One I don’t know about yet."
The goddess looked at steadily. "Yes."
Just that. Just *yes.*
My heart was doing sothing I couldn’t quite categorize. Not panic. Not disbelief. Sothing bigger and harder to na, pressing against the inside of my ribs from all directions at once.
"Is that—" I stopped. Started again. "Is that why she stayed? To protect—"
"Yes."
I pressed my hand flat against my stomach.
The fog was pulling at . The light changing. I could feel it now, the weight returning to my body, my feet becoming more real than the flowers around them.
The space between was ending.
"Wait," I said quickly. To the goddess. To Artemis. To both of them, to whoever was listening. "I have things I need to ask. There’s so much I need to—"
The goddess smiled.
"You’ll find your way," she said gently. "You always have."
"That’s—that’s not an answer, that’s not—"
*Aria.*
Artemis’s voice. Steady and warm and right beside even though I hadn’t heard her move.
I looked down.
She was there. Her silver eyes holding mine.
*Go back to him,* she said. *He’s waiting.*
My chest ached.
"Will you be here?" I whispered. "If I reach for you—will you be there? Even just—can I hear you?"
She pushed her nose once against my hand.
*Always,* she said. *You just have to listen.*
And then the wind ca.
Out of nowhere. Warm and sudden, pressing against my back, lifting my hair, gentle as anything and completely impossible to resist. My feet lifted slightly. The flowers rushed past. The fog swirled and opened and the light grew—
I reached back. Reached for Artemis, for the goddess, for the clearing, for any of it—
But my fingers t only air.
The world went white.
And then—
A lurch. A falling-upward sensation that stole the breath right out of my lungs.
Weightlessness.
One complete, total, spinning second of nothing.
And then—
My eyes snapped open.
Reviews
All reviews (0)