Destined

Chapter 27

“Tamani!” Laurel called, running to him.

He looked up and for a second Laurel saw joy in his eyes. But then darkness clouded his expression. He blinked and looked down at the ground, running his fingers through his hair almost nervously.

Laurel tucked herself beneath his good arm, wanting to chide him for trying to do so much. Beneath her fingertips Laurel could feel no trace of Klea’s virulent toxin, which was encouraging, but his wounds were grievous enough on their own. “Are you all right?”

He shook his head and his eyes looked haunted in a way she had never seen before. Yesterday she had been peripherally aware that he was pushing his emotions aside to accomplish the tasks before him. But here, with no one around but Laurel, with no lives to save, he had let all his defences go and allowed himself to really feel. And it showed. “No,” he said, his voice shaking. “I’m not all right. And I don’t think I’m going to be all right for a long time. But I’ll live,” he added after a brief pause.

“Sit,” Laurel said, pulling him off the path to a patch of grass where a large pine shaded them from not only the rising sun, but prying eyes. For just a moment, she wanted him all to herself. “Where’s Chelsea?”

“She’ll be here soon,” he said wearily.

“Where were you?” she asked.

He was silent for a moment. “Shar’s house,” he finally said, his voice cracking.

“Oh, Tam,” Laurel breathed, her hands gripping his shoulder.

“It was his last request,” Tamani said, one silent tear tracing down his face for an instant before he broke her gaze and rubbed it away with his sleeve.

Laurel wanted to wrap her arms round him, to offer her shoulder for him to cry on, to soothe away those terrible lines on his forehead, but she didn’t know where to begin. “Tamani, what’s going on?”

Tamani swallowed, then shook his head. “I’ll get you back to California — you’ll see. You, and Chelsea, and David.”

“But—”

“But I’m not coming with you.”

“You — you have to,” Laurel said, but Tamani was shaking his head.

“I’ll tell Jamison I can’t keep my life vow. He’ll help me, somehow. I’ll get you the best protector in Avalon, I promise, but… it’s not me anymore.”

“I don’t want another protector,” Laurel said, her chest feeling hollow, panicked.

“You don’t understand,” Tamani said, not looking at her. “It’s not about us; I can’t be your Fear-gleidhidh… effectively. In hindsight, I should probably never even have tried; if I was doing my job right, none of this would have happened. When I — when I thought you were dead, I went crazy. I honestly didn’t know myself. I was afraid of who I had become. I can’t live always knowing that I could lose you at any moment; that I could feel that way again.” He hesitated. “It’s too hard.”

“No, no, Tam,” she said, smoothing his hair, caressing his cheek. “You can’t, not now, not—”

“I’m not as good as you think I am, Laurel,” he protested, desperation filling his voice. “I don’t trust myself to protect you anymore.”

“Then find someone else to fill that role if you have to,” she said, jaw clenched, “but don’t you leave me!” She scooted closer and took his face in her hands, waited while he built up the courage to raise his eyelids and look at her. “Wherever we’re going today, I want you with me, and I never want you to leave my side again.” His ragged breath touched on her face now, her body pulled right against his chest, feeling his essence pull on her like a magnet. “I don’t care if you guard and protect me — all I care is that you love me. I want you to kiss me good night before I go to sleep and bid me good morning the moment I wake up. And not just today; tomorrow and the next day and every day for the rest of my life. Will you come with me, Tamani? Be with me?”

Laurel lifted his chin until their faces were even. Tamani closed his eyes and she could feel his jaw trembling under her hands. She brushed her lips over his, revelling in the velvety softness of his mouth against hers. When he didn’t pull away, she pressed more firmly, knowing, somehow, that she had to move slowly, convince his tattered soul so carefully that she meant every word.

“I love you. And I’m asking you…” She opened her mouth slightly and gently scraped her teeth along his bottom lip, feeling his whole body shudder. “No,” she amended, “I’m begging you, to come be with me.” And she pressed her mouth against his and murmured against his lips. “Forever.”

For a few seconds he didn’t respond.

Then a groan escaped his throat and he thrust his fingers into her hair, pulling her mouth back to his with a fierce hunger.

“Kiss me,” she whispered. “And don’t stop.”

His mouth enveloped hers again and their shared sweetness tasted like ambrosia as he caressed her eyelids, her ears, her neck, and Laurel marvelled at the strangeness of the world. She loved him, had always loved him. She had even known it, somehow.

“Are you sure?” Tamani murmured, his lips softly grazing her ears.

“I am so sure,” Laurel said, her hands clutching at the front of his shirt.

“What changed?” He pushed her hair away from her face, his fingers lingering on her temples, just brushing her eyelashes.

Laurel sobered. “When I brought you the potion, I thought I was too late. And I had just taken it myself. And all I wanted right at that moment was to take my own cure away. To die with you.”

Tamani pressed his forehead against hers and lifted one hand to stroke her cheek.

“I’ve loved you for a long time,” she said. “But there was always something holding me back. Maybe it was that I was afraid of an emotion that was so consuming. It still frightens me,” she admitted in a whisper.

Tamani chuckled. “If it makes you feel any better, it scares the daylights out of me on a regular basis.” He rained kisses on her again, his fingers pressed against her back and her waist, and Laurel realised his chest was shaking convulsively.

“What?” she asked pulling away. “What’s wrong?”

But he wasn’t sobbing — he was laughing! “The World Tree,” he said. “It was right all along.”

“When you got your answer?”

He nodded.

“You said you would tell me someday what it said. Will you now?”

“Commit.”

“What?”

“The tree just said, Commit.” He ran his hand through his hair, smiling a little.

“I don’t understand,” Laurel said.

“Neither did I. I was already your Fear-gleidhidh; I’d committed my life to protecting you. When the tree told me that, I figured you were as good as mine. Easy.”

“And then I told you to leave,” Laurel whispered, sorrow at the memory settling deep within her.

“I understand why you did,” Tamani said, threading his fingers through hers. “And it was probably best for both of us in the long run. But it hurt.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I was listening to the tree, and to my own selfish desires, when I should have been listening to you. I think I know what the tree really meant now,” he said, his voice rumbling against her ear. “I needed to commit my life to you — not to guiding you or protecting you, just to you, completely, in my core. I needed to stop worrying about whether you would ever do the same for me. In a way, I think that’s what coming to the human world did, and why I wasn’t sure I could bear to go back.” He traced his finger down her face. “I was committed to an idea before — to the love I felt for you. But not to you. And I think you sensed that change or you’d have rejected me.”

“Maybe,” Laurel said, although at this moment she couldn’t fathom rejecting him for any reason.

His fingers found her chin, lifting it so he could look her in the eyes. “Thank you,” he said softly.

“No,” she said, running one finger across his bottom lip, “thank you.” Then she pulled his face down, their lips meeting, melting together again. She wished they could stay there all day, all year, all eternity, but reality came creeping slowly back in.

“You still haven’t told me what you’re up to,” she said at last.

“One more minute,” Tamani said, smiling against her lips.

“We don’t need minutes,” Laurel said. “We have forever.”

Tamani pulled back to look at her, his eyes shining with wonder. “Forever,” he whispered, before pulling her in for another long kiss.

“So, does this make us entwined?” Laurel asked, a sharp twinge of grief piercing her happiness as she repeated the word Katya had used, so long ago, to describe committed faerie couples.

“I believe it does,” Tamani said, beaming. He leaned closer, his nose touching hers. “A sentry and a Mixer? We shall be quite the scandal.”

Laurel smiled. “I love a good scandal.”

“I love you,” Tamani whispered.

“I love you, too,” Laurel replied, relishing the words as she said them. And with them, the world was new and bright — there was hope. There were dreams.

But most of all, there was Tamani.