Page 54

She looked at the pencil in her hand, fidgeting. “So… Couldn’t you stay here when the rains end? There are so many fountains. It feels like it should protect you.” They were sitting on the lip of another fountain now, this one seemingly carved entirely of smooth pink quartz.

“The fountains are a courtesy,” he said, “as are the plants that are not of this desert.” He gestured across the way, at a shaded willow tree surrounded by moss.

A faintly green woman was leaning against its bark, smiling.

“Should one be in the underworld in a place where the fire element is weak, there would be pillars of flame for visitors of that element to refresh themselves. But they are a moment’s surcease, not able to sustain for a lengthy stay, and when the rains end, the air here will not be so humid.

It is still the desert, and we respect its power.

” He stroked her hair back from her forehead.

“And I would not feel alive, even if it could sustain me.”

“Even if I visited?” She would figure out how to get in, if Rai were hiding here. Take a pickaxe to the stone walls.

He smiled, but his eyes were bleak. “It would still be a prison.” He tilted his head to match the angle of her drawing. “This is lovely. Will you offer this one to the blue woman, as well?”

She half covered the drawing with her hand, embarrassed.

“I don’t know. It’s so rough.” She’d brought three new framed drawings to Café Legend that morning, before they’d come here.

Rai had been effusive in his praise, but when she saw them on the wall, doubt had slammed into her like a runaway train.

They were accurate botanical drawings. She’d taken the time with each of them to apply proper composition rules, chosen her colors according to the theory her father had taught her, drawn precisely and neatly, but seeing them framed and hanging, she could not help but think that something was missing.

“Maybe I’ll do a better drawing based on this.

” She belatedly drew out her phone to snap a photo of the bird for later reference .

“I like that it is rough. It has energy. The bird feels as if in flight, though it is still.” He ghosted his fingers over the exposed part of the drawing, following the lines of the hummingbird’s feathers, then rested his hand upon hers. “It is unbelievable.”

She nudged him with her shoulder. “Says the guy with wings and a magical fanny pack of holding.”

He brushed her cheek with his thumb, and she finally lifted her gaze to his.

He was not smiling, not exactly, but his expression was kind.

“But that is just what it is to be who I am. Those things are as ordinary to me as your doors that open and your coffee and your computer, the technology that supports your life. This, the magic you make with your hands, is unfathomable to me.”

Poppy gazed at him for a long moment, caught in the storms boiling in his eyes.

They were the one thing, she suddenly realized, that he had never shielded or altered in any way.

His hair was more blue than black in his true form, his skin not just a different color but more textured, his teeth a cooler white, but his eyes were exactly the same.

She should have known the first time she looked into them that he was made of magic.

And she had known, in a way, but she’d thought it was just the charm of his personality, the light of his laughter.

She did not want him to leave. Not ever. But she could not ask him to stay. Not when the only option besides death was, for him, a fate worse than death. Hibernation. A self-made prison.

Rai was meant to fly. She refused to chain him down.

So she didn’t say the words that had bubbled to her lips a dozen times just that day, a hundred times since the moment she’d realized she’d lost the battle to protect her heart.

And it was weird, because it hadn’t been when he was actually romancing her.

He had praised her, seduced her, practically worshiped her, and it had made her head spin, but she’d still managed to keep that last bit of her shield up, the knowledge that their relationship was temporary by design and necessity a safety net keeping her from falling all the way. She’d kept her head. She’d stayed safe.

Then the net had disappeared, when she had least expected it.

I know you weep over money, he’d said fiercely. I would not have you weep.

It was foolish. The most ridiculous moment in time to realize she was all the way in love, no illusions, no takebacks.

A normal woman might have figured it out when he went down on his knees on the rocks, professed his admiration and desire, even when he’d swept her away like a princess about to be ravished.

Or hell, any of the times they’d made love.

Orgasms were practically designed to shatter emotional and intellectual barriers, and he sure did like to make them happen, as if it was his divine calling.

All those moments had been beautiful, romantic, everything she would have thought would break down her walls.

She’d felt certain he would romance his way through eventually, had braced herself for it.

Had managed to resist, fully expecting that one day he was going to really bust out his inner Casanova, and she’d be doomed.

But no, she had to give up her heart when they were talking about her water bill, of all things.

It was the last bit. I would not have you weep.

It had perversely brought tears to her eyes.

Now, sitting on an impossible pink fountain in an impossible wonderland, she was tearing up again. She kissed him quickly, before the tears could escape. It didn’t matter. Rai hadn’t promised her anything but the present, just like she’d wanted. He might not want anything but the present.

And now she just wanted something she could never have.

He was the one to break the kiss off, though he smiled down at her warmly. “You are pleased,” he said. “With this place, with my…truth.”

She nodded. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the hummingbird abandon its perch, zip off to parts unknown. Maybe elsewhere in the underworld, or maybe back to the surface, where there was risk and pain and living. “It’s beautiful. You’re beautiful.”

His smile widened. “Am I?”

“Would I lie to you?” She laid her head on his shoulder.

“No,” he said quietly. “You are no liar.” His arm settled around her waist, drawing her closer.

Except she was. She’d asked him not to withhold truth from her, but here she was, lying her ass off every time she didn’t look him in the eyes and say it. I love you. But she couldn’t say it now, not yet.

The secret was the only safety net she had left.

After she had sketched a few more birds and Rai had replenished his strength in the fountains, Rai took her flying, careening high above the tall buildings, past Sentinel Peak to the western hills.

He’d carried her securely, arms wrapped around her like a seatbelt, breathing encouragement into her ears.

It had been dizzying and terrifying and exhilarating and mad, all at once, and she’d laughed like the fool she was.

After they had flown a bit, Rai circled to land atop one of the saguaro-studded hills. He set her gently on her feet, making sure she was steady before he stepped away and swirled a pair of water bottles out for them to drink.

Poppy gazed around the area, trying to get her bearings.

There weren’t a lot of roads out this far, but if she squinted, she could see the highway that led off to Kitt Peak, which was hazy in the distance.

She pointed it out to Rai as she sipped at her water bottle, trying not to fret about the way Rai was finishing off one and switching it out for another, and another.

He did not seem worried at all, listening with a look of astonishment on his face as she spoke of observatories and telescopes, but she felt vaguely guilty.

Maybe she should just get some good rain gear so they could fly when he was more comfortable.

When she said as much, he just laughed, though.

“I also enjoy the sunlight,” he said. “Though its nature is of fire, it sustains all the elements equally.” He ghosted his hand above the back of her neck, and she was instantly cooled—he’d made her sweat evaporate, she realized.

“The sun is a part of the cycle of water. Were it not for the sun, there would be no clouds to ride, no rain to sustain the earth. Were it not for the suns far distant, the stars, the night would be bleak and melancholy. I would not put my hand in a bonfire, but I gladly raise my face to the sunlight.”

She didn’t have words to answer that, just watched as he did raise his face, eyes closed, a faint smile on his face. “I’m still getting a poncho,” she said when he looked back at her.

His eyes crinkled. “I will not mind.”

“You might when you see it. Sexy they are not. And no,” she hastened to add, “this is not me fishing for you to tell me that it will be sexy because I am wearing it.”

He pouted, the dramatic pout he affected when he was not actually pouty but wanted her to kiss him. “May I say it will be sexy when I remove it?”

“You may,” she said regally, then gave in and kissed him, giggling against his lips.

“I know you do not fish for sweet words,” he whispered, nuzzling her cheek. “Yet they leap forth from me regardless.”

“It’s a miracle.” She cuddled into his arms, gazing out at the landscape. “I haven’t been out this far in years.”

Rai made a curious rumble. “You said you came to this city but two years ago. ”

“But I used to visit.” She hesitated. She’d told Rai about Brendan, of course, but she still felt like she was picking at an old scab when she brought up events from the period of their marriage.

She didn’t want to spoil her brief time with Rai just venting.

But it also wasn’t fair for her to hold back on sharing good memories just because they’d happened during her marriage, not when Rai had been so honest. At least since his secret identity had been revealed—and she couldn’t stay mad at him for that.

“Back before the pandemic, my ex and I would come out once in a while. And he wanted to write off the plane tickets and hotel costs, so he would usually schedule things for himself—book signings, or guest appearances at the libraries. And he didn’t want me at those, of course.

” Was it of course for Rai? She hadn’t told him about how Brendan’s “writing process” had worked, how it had mostly been him outlining his ideas and her putting them into the poetic words he was renowned for.

But Rai just gave a faint growl and held her tighter, which was weirdly reassuring.

“Anyhow, Dad would sometimes invite me to go paint with him. He did most of his painting in the studio, so he could be close to Mom, but because he painted landscapes and desert plants, he liked to get out in the wilderness on a regular basis, too. He’d say it was to remember who he was.

And Mom liked it when I was there to go with him. She worried more when he was alone.”

“Did she not worry to lose both of you?” He kissed her ear.

Poppy sighed. “She had things under control then. Or he did, for her.”

“I understand.” His wings crackled behind them.

“That was where we used to go.” She pointed off into the hills east of Kitt Peak.

“There’s a road that goes off south toward Mexico, just east of the reservation, and there’s pretty much nothing out there.

A couple ranches, dirt roads. Some of it’s fenced off, but there’s plenty of wilderness that’s still pretty wild, and it’s gorgeous.

We’d pack tons of food and water, a couple shade umbrellas, and our paint boxes, and just go paint all day.

Alla prima , so no waiting for layers to dry, no time to fuss.

We’d come home a mess, all hot and sweaty and tired, with a trunk full of smeary paintings that were anything but perfect. ”

He turned her in his arms. “I cannot imagine a painting you created being less than perfect.”

“Oh. Oh, you’re so sweet.” Wrong, but very sweet. “But seriously, these paintings were, like, blobs. Maybe not Dad’s, but mine were.” She wrapped her arms around his waist for a good squeeze. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to do your portrait alla prima . I’ll take the time to make it perfect.”

She’d barely gotten started with the glazing, since Rai had insisted she do her drawings for Café Legend first, but she was determined to make it a masterpiece, had been digging into her father’s technical books whenever Rai went to his motel room to hydrate.

Thankfully, Rai had agreed not to look at the painting until it was done, so she could relax a bit knowing the messier parts of the process weren’t going to be exposed and he’d only see the final, hopefully glorious result.

“I cannot wait,” he murmured, then took her empty water bottle out of her hands and spirited it away into storage. “Do you wish to fly more now?”

“Yes,” she said. “Please.”

He gathered her again in his arms, leapt into the air, and as they soared into the blue sky, Poppy closed her eyes and just let herself feel it, the sun and the breeze and Rai’s strong arms that would never, never let her fall.

She felt alive in a way she’d never felt before. Gravity-defying, risk-taking, heart-breakingly alive.

This was living.

She would have to remember this when Rai was gone, when she’d settled back into her normal existence. Remember what it was like to truly live, so that she could sustain herself with the knowledge that Rai was somewhere in the world still flying free. Remember what it was like to fly.

She had to, if she wanted to survive.