Free The 13th Descent: Book One of The Rosefire Trilogy by Ky Lehman Page A

moves to his own forehead. He is berating himself and I’m not sure way.
    “You’re upset. Why?” I ask.
    “ You’re overwhelmed. Obviously, I’ve said too much. I’m pushing too hard,” he says.
    I baulk and choke on my own saliva. Coughing and spluttering, I beg for the Earth to open up and swallow me whole.
    “Nooooo, you’re not,” I embarrassingly overemphasis. He still looks sceptical. “I’m fine, really,” I attempt to calmly say, still feeling the twinge in places his words were only partly responsible for.
    I have felt crippling emotion before; both devastation and joy that have brought me to my knees, but I’ve managed to stay conscious. But since finding out about Mum being alive, I have fainted twice: both times when remembering an experience that filled me with so much emotion, it somehow overflowed and drowned out my consciousness.
    Strong and ready? My arse. It seems that now my ‘mind is open,’ I am a vulnerable wuss who is prone to swooning. A delicate rose. Ugh…
    But , if that was a dream I was having during that recent check-out, it was the most passionate I can ever recall having. And if it was a memory, it is the most connected to someone I have ever felt.
    I’ m not sure of what my face is relaying, but it is enough to send Mike hurrying off to the kitchen to get us both a cool glass of water. He helps me sit up, and as I gratefully take a few small sips, he gently rubs my back. “Better?” he softly asks.
    “Much,” I answer, looking over at the clock. Now I am fully conscious and my thirst is quenched, my curiosity is back with a vengeance. “We’ve still got a bit of time, you know,” I eagerly point out.
    “Yeah? You sure?” Mike asks, surprised.
    I impatiently nod.
    He quickly looks me over. “Well, OK then,” he says, seemingly convinced, as he sits back and invites me to once again settle into the crook of his arm.
    Just l ike there was no sharing of breath, blissful fainting and hot-blooded I-don’t-know-what’s only minutes ago, it’s straight back to playing with my fingers and telling ghost stories. He thoughtfully resumes, “You know, Ren, one of the brightest lights imaginable is a love born in Heaven that is rediscovered on Earth. And, when Shoshanna found her twin soul on Earth, their conjoined lights could be seen from worlds away.”
    I look forward to remembering what it’s like to look into the eyes of my other half and see the best part of me looking back. I look forward to remembering what I had with this man, Joshua, my husband and the father of my first Earthborn child, to relive the love we shared and to see if it faintly resembles the shaky notion of true love I am clinging to now.
    “So, shortly after you and Joshua left for Earth and the rest of us decided to follow, we all chose to be born into families who remembered-”  
    “ How many is ‘we’?” I ask.
    “ The first time, there ended up being nine of us.”
    “ Nine, including you, me and Joshua?”
    “Yep.”
    “So, that leaves six others.”
    “That’s right.”
    “Who are…?”
    “ Four were on the boat with us.”
    “Four? I thought there was only three.”
    “You were pregnant.”
    “Right,” I acquiesce. “So, who are the two others?”
    “I ’ll get to that.”
    Frustrated, I humph and cross my arms.
    “Patience, Ren,” he firmly reminds me.
    “Yeah. Yeah. I know ,” I snap. I’m more annoyed at myself for postponing Q and A time in the first place.
    Taking my grumpiness in his stride, he continues. “Like I was saying, all nine of us chose to be born into families who remembered, and with all of us being raised in love and light, during the times we were all together, we didn’t need to convince anyone. Anyone with eyes could see it. Anyone with a heart could feel it.”
    “See …feel what?” I ask.
    “ Home,” he simply answers and continues. “You and Joshua chose to be born into separate royal houses where you could be taught by priests