His shoulders slumped. “The battles again.” He sounded tired. “They are bothersome.”
“That’s how I always think of war. Bothersome.”
I’m not sure if He grasped my jest, for He simply nodded. Then His jewellike focus narrowed on my face. “Ceris, I’ve come to ask you to return with Me.”
My mouth went dry. “To the heavens?”
Another nod.
I caught myself wringing my fingers and forced my hands to drop. “But You said it was too dangerous to see her.” Our star. Our child.
He appeared uncomfortable, which oddly made Him look more mortal, if I were to ignore the brilliance of His person. “It is, but I wish you to come to the palace. I wish you to be with Me.”
My jaw hit the mud ringing the pond, or it might as well have, with how I gaped at Him.
“You would be as a queen, until your years ended.” He held out His hand as though the promise were a tangible thing He could show me. “You would be able to return to Earth as often as you see fit; I would of course give you that freedom. I only ask that you be at My side in the interim.”
I stared at Him a moment longer. Then another moment.
Was the Sun God trying to . . . court me?
Oh stars, what would my mother think of this?
“W-Why?” I dumbly sputtered.
He pressed His lips together, glancing skyward a moment. “Because I think of you. Because you are different.”
“Because I survived.”
“It is not just that.”
His presence made me warm, and I stepped closer to the trees. “I . . . I don’t know how to answer that.”
“Come with Me, and I will show you.”
My spine tingled like someone drew a spent match over the bumps. “Sun—”
“It would not be the same,” He added, quieter. “You are no longer purely mortal.”
It took me a moment to realize He meant lovemaking. That it wouldn’t hurt me. Just as His touch no longer hurt me.
My chest flushed at the thought. His hand was still outstretched, and I came toward Him, reaching past it to take His wrist. It was hot, just on the cusp of burning, but not enough to do me any harm.
I pulled away. “Every time I came back, the world would be different. I’d lose every friend I’d made. I’d—”
The furrowing of His brow made me pause. “Time is constant, Ceris. It would affect you, as a mortal, the same in the heavens as it would in any other world.”
I froze, jaw half-open. The sincerity in His face made my knees weak. “Wh-What?”
He cocked His head, confused.
“No.” I shook my head. “No, that’s not right. I was there, with You, for . . . almost ten months? But when You sent me home, seven hundred years had passed since my departure.”
Sun went so still even His flames ceased to move. “What did you say?”
“This isn’t my Earth. Not the way I left it.” I gestured to the forest around us. “Everyone I knew is dead. Their children and their children’s children are nothing but bones—”
My voice thinned, and I stopped, struggling with my own emotions. Swallowing hard, I said, “How did You not know?”
His features hardened, making them even more radiant. “Time is constant, but it affects celestial beings . . . differently.” I could tell there was a tome of information behind the statement, but one He did not wish to share. “That is how we are long-lived. The chords of our songs play differently than yours.”
I shook my head, trying to grasp His meaning. “But then I would have been seven hundred years in the heavens.”
“You are not quite mortal,” He repeated, and yet He sounded doubtful.
Regardless of my mortal or nonmortal state, one thing was certain. “I’ve been displaced.”
All the god had to say was So it seems.
Deep breath in, deep breath out. “Sun, can You return me to my time?”
He didn’t even consider it, only shook His head. “Time is constant, Ceris. I cannot travel it, even with My power. It is against the law.”
I was ready to weep. “What law?”
“Eternal laws.” He held up a finger. “Time cannot be altered.” Another finger. “A god’s reign cannot be inherited.” A third finger. “Death cannot be reversed.” And His little finger. “A mortal cannot be forced to do a god’s will. Only convinced.”
Like the star mothers. He had given me a chance to change my mind.
I hugged myself and glanced at the forest behind me. Even a god could not fix what had happened, and yet I didn’t understand why it had happened. Had I slept so long before opening my eyes to the glass roses on my chest? But if that were the case, I would have been sent back. Elta . . . she was still there in the room with me. As though she hadn’t left. As though I hadn’t been displaced in time until Sun sent me home.