“It’s something Hezekiah said once. And then, when he told me about my mother, he said he only told her that which put her on the correct path. He never said she had to die. Not really. But he inferred it. He made it sound like there was no other option.” I swallowed thickly. “He did the same to me the day I left. I didn’t realize it until much later. I believed I had to do what I did because it was the only way to save you. But maybe Hezekiah was manipulating me the way he had my mother. To put me on the correct path. Because I needed to go to Purgatory.”
“Why do you think you needed to go to Purgatory?”
“So I could become who I needed to be to defeat Lucifer.” I took a deep breath, avoiding Gideon’s heavy gaze. “Lucifer hurt me, but he trained me too. I learned more under his guidance than I did with Uriel. Because he wasn’t afraid of me or what I could do. He pushed me to my breaking point and farther.
“Without that, I would have never been able to access the entirety of my power.” I laughed, but there was no humor there. “And maybe Hezekiah knew that. He’d seen it. So he forced my hand. He said the right words, and I believed him.”
We were quiet for a time. Gideon stared out the window. I stared at him. I reached back and touched the twine holding his hair back. Tugging on the thread, I freed his dark blond waves and ran my fingers through them.
“We requested an audience with Hezekiah. When you were gone. We were denied.”
“Why didn’t you go to him anyway?”
“No one goes to the Thrones’ sanctuary uninvited,” he said severely. “You politely request a meeting and hope they respond.”
“That’s stupid. And classist.” I checked the clock on Gideon’s desk. It was still early afternoon. “Their temple is in the forest of Asphodel, right?”
Sometimes, I hated how Gideon could read me. He scowled. “Riley, no.”
“What are they gonna do to me? Send me to Hell?” I stood and crossed my arms over my chest. “Been there, done that.”
“You are not going to the Thrones uninvited,” he said.
“If you don’t take me, Uriel will. He still feels guilty for being a lying douche, and he’s prone to giving me what I want.” Gideon glared, and I smiled triumphantly. “Or you could come with me and make sure I don’t die.”
“Riley.”
“Please?” I stepped forward until our knees knocked. “I need to talk to Hezekiah.”
“Then we can request a meeting,” he said as his hands cupped my thighs, fingers digging into my hamstrings. “But you can’t just go traipsing into the forest—”
“I won’t because I’ll have you with me. It’ll be fine.” I framed his face with my hands. “They won’t hurt me. If they’re any good at being clairvoyant, then they’ll know we’re coming anyway. It’s not like we’d be dropping in unannounced.”
He was glaring again.
“I’m going with or without you,” I warned.
“Sometimes…” He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Sometimes, I wish you were still afraid of me.”
I laughed. “Liar.”
He eyed me angrily. “You stick by me and follow my lead, okay? We really don’t need to piss off any Thrones.”
With a wave of my hand, I dismissed his concerns. “We’ll be fine, Gideon. You worry too much.”
He had the gall to look offended. “I worry the proper amount. You’re going to give me gray hair.”
I imagined him graying at the temples, his reading glasses perched on his nose, and grinned. “I wouldn’t mind that. It sounds sexy.”
Turning on my heels, I made my way to the entryway to grab my shoes, leaving Gideon gaping behind me in stunned silence.
Chapter Twelve
The afternoon was warm, but it was pleasantly cool under the cover of trees. Gideon walked beside me, hair once again pulled back and fastened at the back of his neck. A chunk fell forward, framing his face. If he’d been closer, I would have reached out and tucked it behind his ear.
We’d been hiking through the forest for almost an hour. Sometimes, we talked. Sometimes, we walked in comfortable silence. Gideon told me that Abram brought him to a meadow here once. A secret place.
I almost laughed. “Oh?”
“He said it was where he first saw Adalaide. She’d been dancing.” Gideon’s smile was sad.
My throat was thick. “I’m sorry. For not telling you about Abram.”
“Why didn’t you?” he asked.
I stepped over a fallen log. “He was the only connection I had to my mother. At first, I thought maybe she was alive, and he could help me find her. And after, I just… I think I always knew who he was. Underneath the denial and fear, I knew what he was to me. And I just—I didn’t want you to stop me from seeing him.”
The trees swayed above us, and a stray leaf fluttered to the ground in front of me. My boot squashed it. Gideon stared ahead as we walked.
“I understand.”
“But I’m still sorry. He was your mentor, and it hurt you when he died. Maybe he wouldn’t have died if I’d been honest.”
He shook his head as he brushed a branch out of our way. “Dwelling on what-ifs is foolish. We can’t change the past, and there’s no way to know what might have happened had we made different choices. What’s done is done. I believed Abram dead for a long time. I’ve already done my grieving.”
“He did it to protect my mother, I think. Faking his death. To make sure no one questioned her loyalty. And then, when I came along, to keep us both safe. Even if he gave me up in the end.” My voice caught, and I swallowed heavily.
“That was also for your protection,” he said. “You were safer with us than you would have been with him.”
“Maybe.” I smiled sadly. “But it was also selfish. Because I was the reminder of all he’d lost. Because he was afraid and lost in his grief. Because it was easier.”
Gideon opened his mouth but didn’t speak. His lips pressed together, and we walked on. We didn’t speak for a long time.
Later, he said, “Is it safe to assume you and Noel have bonded?” The words were stilted, like he wasn’t sure whether he should ask or not.
I blushed. “Um, yeah.”
“Good.” He smiled. “Congratulations.”
“Thanks.”
He seemed happy to let the subject drop, and I almost let it. I chewed on the inside of my cheek, fighting the urge to speak words that would surely embarrass us both. But with Gideon, I had to be blunt and take initiative. If I waited on him, I’d be old and gray before we ever talked about our future together.
“Is that something…” I trailed off as I hopped over the gnarly roots of a huge tree. “I mean, for us. You and me. Is that something you’d want?”
With a comical yelp, Gideon tripped over those same roots. He caught his balance before he face-planted on the forest floor, half-crashing into the trunk of the tree. I bit back a laugh, hand outstretched as if to save him from himself.
“Are you okay?” I asked, barely containing my chortles as he blushed to the tips of his ears.