Free Of Shadow Born by Dianne Sylvan

was gone. She curled up on her side on the bed, still clinging to the pillow, and Deven lay at her back, his arm around her, his breath warm on her neck. The energy flowed between them, and she felt his mourning as clear as her own. So much pain, and so much guilt . . . he truly believed, she realized, that he was damned, had always been damned, and that all of this was his fault. For hundreds of years he had drifted around the planet afraid to die because he knew what was coming. And then, finally, his faith had died instead of him, and then there was nothing . . . until there was love . . . until it, too, died. David hadn’t been his Consort, but their souls had touched, and loved . . . and lost.
    Moments, or hours, later, Miranda turned over, and they lay facing each other like two children sharing a secret. To her wonder, Deven’s eyes were wet, too, and their irises had darkened almost to the color of actual iris flowers.
    Deven’s hand lifted and brushed stray locks of hair from Miranda’s face, then cupped her chin lightly, fingers reaching up to wipe the tears from her eyes. The touch was more comforting than she would have believed possible. She had not expected to find comfort anywhere, ever again.
    Deven smiled softly. “I remember a night that I came to this same room, to offer comfort in whatever clumsy way I could to a man who had lost the one woman in all the world who fully and completely understood and accepted him.”
    Miranda couldn’t seem to stop her tears, but then she decided not to try; she had nothing to hide, not anymore. “I felt him die.”
    “I know, Miranda. I did, too. We all did—me, Jonathan, Cora, and Jacob. All of us.”
    “Did you . . . see him?”
    Deven lowered his eyes, and when he met her gaze again there were more tears. “Yes. Jonathan and I found him on the roof. I brought you his ring and what’s left of the Signet.”
    “Did you find his sword?”
    “No, but we’re looking for it.”
    “Was there . . . anything . . . of Faith?”
    Pain creased his forehead again, and he said, “Only the hilt of her sword. Everything else in the room was pulverized.”
    She turned her face into the sheets for a moment. Oh, Faith . . . I’m so sorry . . . “Where’s Jonathan?” she asked.
    “Debriefing your Elite and ours to get a status report. I didn’t think you would mind a hand with organization for a day or two, just to get you on your feet—Jonathan isn’t much of a warrior, but he’s one hell of a commander in chief.”
    Relief, sweet and dark, washed through her. “I’m so glad you’re here.”
    Deven looked away again. “Even though . . .”
    “Even though.” Now it was her turn to touch his face. “Whatever you did, you did because you wanted to save us. It was batfuck stupid, yes, but I can’t hate you for acting out of love.”
    The Prime looked at her as if she were some rare bird that had ventured into the yard. “He always said you had a blind spot when it came to me, but he never understood why, given . . . what happened between us.”
    “It’s not a blind spot, Deven. My eyes are very much open. I see you. He . . . it’s hard to explain to people who don’t have this gift, but things like blame and forgiveness have a whole different meaning. I can’t hold on to hate or it will poison me. And there’s something . . . something connecting us . . . all of us. You know that. We’re more than just friends and allies, all of us.”
    “I never wanted any of this to happen,” he whispered, unable to meet her eyes any longer. “I never wanted to hurt anyone. When I found out about you, I sent Sophie, thinking I could set things right with him, help him be happy . . . and after all of that, he’s . . .”
    “I know,” Miranda whispered back. “I want him back, Dev . . . I want him in my arms. None of this makes any sense without both of us here. It’s just not right. I . . . I don’t know