Page 118 of Evermore

We stayed like that for what felt like hours, the rain soaking us both as he held me together with nothing but his presence and his warmth. The Remnants still raged, but for now, in this stolen moment on a rain-slick roof, I let myself be anchored by the one person who’d survived centuries of darkness.

It wouldn’t last. It never did. The hunger for ruination grew stronger every day, and soon, not even Thorne’s arms would be enough to hold back the storm. Nor Archer’s easy smile. Quill was my only slight reprieve. But I wouldn’t tell her that. Nor would I use her for her power. I’d suffer for centuries before I ever did that.

“You’re soaking wet,” he murmured against my hair.

“Astute observation. Did you learn that in god school?”

He huffed a laugh, shifting to sit more comfortably while keeping me tucked against him. “They covered it right after ‘how to brood attractively in shadows’.”

“Well, you certainly excelled in that class.” I could feel his smile against my temple. “Though your stalking needs work. I saw you in the garden today.”

“Impossible. I was extremely stealthy.”

“You knocked over a potted plant.”

“That was Tuck.”

“He wasn’t even there.”

“He’s very talented.”

Despite everything, I found myself smiling. The voices still whispered, but they seemed more distant now, as if our mundane conversation confused them. I focused on the steady rise and fall of his chest, the warmth of him beneath my cheek.

“How was your day?” he asked softly, his fingers absently combing through my wet hair. “Other than catching me being stealthy, of course, which likely didn’t happen.”

“Thea had some stuff in Silbath, so Archer and I walked her into town. And Quill tried to teach Boo a new trick but it didn’t go well. He kept rolling over, no matter what she asked him to do. She’d say sit, he’d roll over. Stay, roll over. I think he’s convinced it’s the only trick worth knowing. And he’s not wrong because she kept feeding him.”

“Smart dog. When in doubt, stick with what works.”

“Did you learn that in god school too?”

“Probably.”

The rain began to ease, turning from a downpour to a gentle patter. Neither of us moved. The silence between us felt comfortable, unhurried. No expectations, no demands, just quiet understanding.

After a while, he shifted, reaching into his coat. “Elowen gave me something.” He pulled out a worn book, its leather cover soft with age and now slightly damp from the rain. “Said it was your favorite.”

My breath caught as I recognized the familiar binding. “The Soulless.” A smile tugged at my lips. “I used to read that over and over.”

He opened it carefully, the pages crackling softly. “I’ve read half of it, but I’ll start over if you want?”

“You’re going to read it to me?”

“I’m told I have an excellent reading voice.” He cleared his throat dramatically. “‘Once, in a kingdom far beyond the mist, there lived a princess who didn’t want to be saved…’”

I settled against him as his voice carried the familiar words across the rooftop. It was a simple story really. A woman who befriended a soulless dragon meant to guard her tower, and together they traveled the world having adventures instead of waiting for a man to rescue her. But something about hearing it in Thorne’s rich baritone made it feel new again.

The Remnants stirred at the edges of my mind, but they seemed unable to corrupt this moment, this simple peace found in an old tale read aloud in the rain. The words of the story faded into silence, but still we sat there, neither willing to break the peace we’d found. The rain had stopped completely now, leaving only the sound of water dripping from the eaves.

“I see you,” I said finally. “Not just the watching or the hovering, but the way you fight against your own nature. Every time I make a choice you don’t agree with, I can see how much you want to step in, to take control.” I traced a pattern on his shirt with my finger, gathering courage. “But you don’t. You stay back. You let me stumble. It’s… different.”

His hand stilled in my hair. “Different?”

“The Thorne I knew would have already had ten plans in motion. The Reverius I think is hiding in there would have commanded the world to bend. But you, you’re learning to let go. To trust me.”

“It’s not easy,” he admitted, a hint of wry humor in his voice. “I’m not particularly good at relinquishing control.”

“I hadn’t noticed.”