She could have, though. If she’d been so inclined.
And therein was another inner conflict she did not enjoy.
“Oh… whatever shall I do,” she whispered into the night.
The question was not wherever shall I go. She knew the answer to the inquiry of destination. Knew also that she was setting into motion monstrous things, the implications of which should have shocked her into inactivity. But sure as if she had been marked, there was no way of stopping any of what was about to transpire.
That book, the one from her dreamscape, was not only calling her, it was demanding that she come unto its location. And she knew what it was asking of her, knew as well why she was the one it had chosen—
“I had to see you.”
Rahvyn spun around. When she saw the angel with the long blond-and-black hair, her first instinct was to smile. But then she remembered who she truly was—and who he mistakenly thought she was.
“Hello,” she whispered.
He took a step toward her, and in the darkness, she could see a tightness in his face, in his body. Had he somehow divined what she intended? she thought with a sudden shame. Could he read her mind?
“I just want you to know something,” he said, his face grim. “It’s not going to make a lot of sense to you. Or maybe it will. I don’t know.”
“What is wrong? What ails you?”
“I have to save two people tonight. I have to… sacrifice something to save them. And after this, it’s all going to be different. For me. For… you.”
In the silence that followed, Rahvyn was so struck by the magnificence he carried within him that she momentarily forgot her own troubles.
“May I help you?” she inquired.
“No, I have to go alone.” He seemed so full of sorrow, she wanted to embrace him. “I just want you to know something, before I leave.”
As he stared down into her eyes, she had a feeling that she knew what he was going to tell her.
His revelation had been foretold during his visit unto her healing bed, when he had hovered o’er her slumbering body and yearned for her. Verily, if he had known she was aware of him, he would have hidden his true intentions.
“From the first moment I saw you,” he said in a hoarse voice, “that night when Sahvage and Mae came here… there was just something about you. I couldn’t look away.”
Flushing, she glanced down at her hands. “I could feel you staring upon me.”
“I didn’t mean to freak you out.”
“You did not.” And then, maybe due to the fact that she herself was departing, she added, “I rather liked your eyes upon me. Not just then, but later. And now, in this moment.”
There was a pause. As if she had surprised him.
“You came to see me at the healing place,” she said as she looked back up at him. “I sensed your presence o’er my bedding platform.”
“I needed to make sure you were okay.”
“And if I had not been…？”
“I would have done what was required to save you.”
Tears entered her eyes, putting a gloss over her vision that blurred him and the meadow. “Why,” she breathed.
An eternity of silence stretched out between them. And then he reached out and brushed her cheek.
When he dropped his hand, she smelled the scent—and could not understand it. Why would the perfume of fresh flowers be out—
Rahvyn gasped.
Looking down at their feet, she saw violets spring up from the scruffy ground, the fragile purple blooms unfurling, little flags upon green nests. And among them sprouted also daisies and dandelions, then other colorful blooms, all of the heads lifting free of the soil, maturing as if it were July, not April, as if the air were warm, not chilled.
The rush of wild flowers swirled around them both, encompassing their vicinity in the meadow, bringing daylight unto the night—and Rahvyn was so o’ercome, she let out a sound of delight and swept her hands to the sky. In a twirl, she imagined that she could gather them up in her arms, a sight for sore eyes, a lift for a heavy heart, a sniff into a grateful, astounded nose.
And then she stilled.
Lowering her arms, she saw that he remained grim. “Are you leaving right the now?”
He took a step back. “I just wanted to give you something beautiful, so you can feel even a little of the wonder I have whenever I look into your eyes.”
“Where are you going,” she asked in a desperation that she did not understand. “Lassiter, where do you go?”
He stopped. “You know my name.”