Page 42 of Ties of Deception

He gave me a strange look as he materialized between the pillars. “Are you all right, Purity?”

I nodded and sat back down on the edge of the bed. “Yes. I…the incense. Do you know what that scent is? Did you leave it here?”

His eyes drifted to the smoking stick on the low table before sharpening in curiosity. “I did. What made you guess? It’s a scent often used in the Unseen Lands. Lemongrass, ginger, and sandalwood.”

I licked my lips. “Was it my…was it Snow’s incense when she lived with her family? In the house she grew up in?”

His lips curved into a wide, excited smile. “It was. Do you remember your house? Your mother?”

I looked away and massaged my forehead, searching for anything else. “Not quite. I wanted to touch you, but I couldn’t. And…you gave me pomegranates.”

I glanced back when he was silent and saw him nodding with encouragement, waiting to see if I had more. When I didn’t speak, he came to sit on the bed beside me. “You loved pomegranates. They were your favorite fruit. And in the Unseen Lands, they symbolize love and faithfulness.”

“Is that why you’ve given me pomegranates here? Hoping that I’d remember?”

He gentled his voice, as if still nervous that he might startle away some revelation. “I wasn’t thinking about your memories—more that, even with a different body, you’re still the same person. I wanted to give you what you liked to eat. The scent was also one of your favorites.”

The need to touch him itched under my skin. As the memory retreated further into my mind, I started to wonder if the urge was actually coming from the here and now…and the realization that I had missed him more than I liked to admit. Not to mention the tender way he was looking at me right now.

“Did…did you two ever embrace?” I regretted the question as soon as it left my lips. It felt too intimate, like I was intruding on two other people’s private moments.

Ethen was silent for a long moment, looking out at the gently stirring curtains between the pillars. He brought one knee up and rested it across his other leg, leaning back on the bed. “When you were mortal, interacting so closely with a god of death was dangerous for you. Even brief touches could shorten your lifespan. We agreed to touch after a year, but only through clothes, like shoulders and arms. And…we didn’t risk going further than that.”

I stared at him, trying to imagine what that had been like. “So you never even…kissed? Held hands? Embraced? Even once?”

He shook his head with a half-smile that somehow managed to carry a lifetime of sorrow. “Even the small touches made me worry. Not to mention, we probably spent far too much time together to be safe. But you insisted, and I…gave in to that much.”

A tremble entered my breath. “You said before that the woman you had promised to marry was stolen from you. So were we not married?”

He winced and shook his head. “We only took the vows to become Fated. It would have been too detrimental to you for us to live together. And…after what happened to my father, I knew you might not remember when you woke up. I wanted you to have a choice. However, some Aidis in the past married their Fated while they were still mortals. Some waited until they were immortal and could no longer be harmed by the powers of death. It’s simpler that way.”

My chest constricted. I didn’t want to ask more about a topic that was clearly so fresh and painful for him, but I needed to know. “How long did she…did I live for?”

His smile dropped completely. His face was barely shielded agony, his voice soft. “Forty-seven years. And I fear I’m to blame for such a short life. As I said, we spent a lot of time together. I’m sorry. You always said you were eager for immortality so we could get married…but I think you’d always assumed you would retain at least some of your memories through sheer determination. And your death…it was still so real. What you went through…”

The pain on his face broke my heart. I reached out and touched his arm. “I’m sorry you had to experience that—to go through all of that pain after waiting so long. It must have been hard.”

He nodded. Then his half-smile returned, a mask of bravery. “I would do it all again, though. The waiting. The boundaries. I can still wait. I don’t want any of this to make you feel rushed.”

I looked away, my stomach dipping at the look he was giving me, and happiness and sadness made a confusing mix between us. He had just been through so much when I remembered so little. It seemed cruel.

I tried to lighten the conversation. “How old are you?”

“One hundred and thirty.”

I blinked in surprise. That was…old. But I supposed if we were both immortal, that was barely any time at all. “When did we first start courting?”

“We met when you were twenty-five.”

I added up the years in my head. “So you have been waiting to kiss me for over twenty-five years?”

He huffed a half-laugh. “I suppose I have.”

I winced. “Well, that puts a lot of pressure on it then.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Maybe, we could start with just holding hands? When you’re ready, that is. That is also something I’ve been waiting for twenty-five years to do. And it’s hard for either of us to do it wrong.”

I ran out of words. Instead, I nodded and turned my hand palm up. He studied it for a moment, then carefully laced his long fingers through mine. His callouses brushed the soft skin of my palm. Then his grip became firm and warm and strong. That ache and longing in my chest for contact eased, and a small part of me—so far away, it felt like a faint echo—wept tears of joy.

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