Page 68 of My Trojan Horse Majesty

“You didn’t know you were linked?” She frowns. “It was so easy to connect the two of you because you were already a soul match.”

Chapter18

Izzy

My dad died fourteen years ago.

He was a great dad. He loved me, he loved my siblings, and he adored our mother. His death wrecked our family, like a bowling ball barreling down the alley to knock all the pins in different directions. My brother Ethan completely changed his mind on the kind of future he wanted. My mom became obsessed with resurrecting her career and earning enough money to take his place. She almost turned into a robot—she scheduled everything to the minute, like if she could be everywhere and do everything, we might not notice that he was missing.

But we did notice.

Losing Dad felt like a bullet had punched a hole in our hearts, the blood just draining and draining and draining.

For our entire family, really.

Mom’s the heart of our family, but Dad held her heart together, and after he died. . .I guess my analogies sort of don’t hold up, because it sure felt like her heart was turning to stone. If you had told me a dozen years ago that my dad was Mom’s soulmate, that he was her only perfect match in all the world, I might have believed it. Mom certainly acted like that was true after he was gone.

But then we moved from Houston to the middle of nowhere, and Mom met Steve.

He wasn’t anything like our dad.

I mean, sure, they were both men, but where Dad was polished and well-spoken and sophisticated, Steve wore dirty cowboy boots and lugged two forty-pound grain bags—one over each shoulder—half a mile to the barn without a thought. To do the same task, Dad would have found a dolly and carefully stacked them and slowly wheeled it out, all the while ensuring nothing could scuff his shoes.

Actually, Dad never would have moved grain bags in the first place.

Mom was very happy with Dad. She was prim, polished, and well-educated. Everyone always called them a power couple. But she was happy in a completely different way with Steve. She was relaxed, and she laughed louder. Her eyes lit up brighter, somehow.

Sometimes I wonder whether she loves Stevemore, which would be kind of crappy since he’s not really my dad. Or maybe it’s good, since he’s here with her now. I don’t know, really, because when she was with Dad, I was pretty small. I didn’t know any different. Maybe she was just as happy in a different way. But ever since she met Steve, and I could tell she was happy with him, I guess I haven’t really believed in soulmates.

The whole idea’s kind of ridiculous to me.

One person in all the world who’s your perfect match? Somehow the fabric of who and what you are just meshes with theirs in a way it can’t with anyone else on earth? I’ve seen my mom’s happiness and joy and life fit well with two very different men in two very different places, so that must all be nonsense.

I just don’t buy it.

“A soul match?” I snort. “Please.”

“You don’t even know what it means,” Lechuza says.

“The idea that there’s one person who’s just perfectly suited to make you happy?” I arch an eyebrow. “Only one person in the world who can complete you? I know that doesn’t exist.”

“You’re right.” Lechuza strolls closer very slowly. “That nonsensical thing you just said doesn’t exist. A soul match isn’t that. It’s something very different.”

“We’re listening,” Leonid says.

“Sit.” Lechuza points at a log. “You two sit there, fold your hands on your laps, and close your mouths.” She wanders closer, peers over the edge of the crevasse that Leonid opened up when he was fishing that blue rock out of the earth. “Sit!”

Her shout shocks me into compliance, and I drop to my bum. Leonid’s right beside me, but instead of folding his hands on his lap, he takes mine in his.

“See?” She shakes her head. “Even now, you reach for one another.”

“He can’t access his powers without touching me,” I say. “I’m like a handgun he feels better while cradling.”

Lechuza rolls her eyes. “Nice analogy. You’resoAmerican. But a soul match isn’t one person in an entire universe. It’s, maybe, one in ten million. There are plenty of people in the earth’s current population that might be a very, very snug fit with your personality. People you complement in every way that matters.”

“But he was born in the eighteen hundreds,” I say. “So?—”

Lechuza’s eyes spark. “Yes, and you little idiot, if you expand the search parameters to include past, present, and future, there would be thousands of matches. Now shut up, and listen.”

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