Marianna
The townhouse in Wisteria Way is cloaked in shadows I don’t remember being there as I follow my mom into the living room. Dust shimmers in the sunlight, highlighting just how long it’s been since anyone has been here.
I stare at the foot of the stairs for several seconds, locked in my head as the memory of Dean screaming in my face and punching me hurtles back into clear, unfiltered focus, but then Mom steps into my line of vision, and the present pierces the memory, fading it into obscurity.
“You know,” she says, sliding her finger over the dusty mantle, “I think I’m going to stay here.”
“What?”
I follow her progress across the room while she inspects the freshly framed pictures now resting on the mantle. New frames, since Dean smashed everything that was once there. Someone came here a few weeks ago and cleaned from top to bottom, scrubbing any hint of what happened here from existence, but the smell of bleach still hangs in the sunbeams drifting through the curtains as Mom replies, “I’ve been spending a lot of time with Alpha Kenna and Luna Sarah.”
“Yeah,” I murmur, eyeing her as she fluffs the throw pillows on the sofa and sets them down again.
“You and Blake–well, it finally happened. Just like Sarah and I hoped it would all those years ago. She was just as hopeful about your relationship with Blake as I was, you know.”
I feel somewhat defensive for whatever reason. It’s an odd feeling, like I’m guarding something sacred. Like we thought… like we thought we were the only people in the world back then, and what we were, what we had, meant nothing to anyone else.
It was ours.
Always, inexplicitly, just for us.
“Blake is staying here in Eastonia. You have an opportunity to have a life with him, with Skye, the three of you, and I feel like I need to move on with mine.”
I straighten as she brushes past me into the kitchen. “Move on?”
Cabinets open and shut while I whirl to follow her progress through the kitchen, where she gathers a duster and other cleaning supplies. “I don’t mean that I’ll never see you and Skye again, Honey–”
“Obviously–”
“I just mean….” She sets the duster down on the counter with a sigh, bracing her palms on the smooth, quartz surface. “You and I have been through so much together. It was just you and me against the world after your dad died, Marianna. I tried to keep you out of it—the struggle of it—being a single mother, leaving our pack to try to give you a better future…. Now look at you. First chair of the Moonrise Philharmonic. Skye has a spot at the most prestigious academy for young witches in the world–”
“That’s not a sure thing yet–”
“Blake saw to it. He saw to everything while you were fighting for your life, Anna, and I realized then that… he can give you what I can’t. You’ve spent the last twenty years taking care of me. Picking up the bills when my shifts at the restaurant couldn’t. Marrying that asshole–gods.” She hangs her head.
I edge into the kitchen. “Mom, what happened with Dean wasn’t your fault in the slightest.”
“I should have tried harder to keep him away from you. I couldn’t. I should have tried harder to mend things between you and Blake when you were pregnant with Skye, but… I’m not as good of a mother as you are.”
I grip the archway into the kitchen, stunned into silence. “Mom–”
“You have a future here, Marianna. A real shot at the kind of life you’ve always deserved, that Skye deserves, and it… it would be an honor to step back and watch.” She motions to the townhouse with a soft, wet laugh, like she’s on the verge of tears. “I’m keeping the townhouse. Apparently, Blake, with his infinite wealth, bought it for us. It’s completely paid off.”
I startle, my jaw slack. “When?”
“A lot of things happened while you were cursed and dying,” she murmurs, trying her hardest to smile, but she seems just as overwhelmed as I feel. “He made sure everything was in place for Skye–for me–in the event we–lost you.” A tear slides down her cheek, but she quickly wipes it away, sniffling. “But you’re here, and you’re well, and you carry his mark. You’re his mate, just like I knew you were back then, back when his world revolved around you, and you hung the moon and the sun in his sky.”
I look down at my sandals with a wince. “I’m not sure I even deserve this.”
“He loves you. He loves you more than anything. He’s… learning to navigate being a father to Skye, but Sarah and I both agree they’ll find middle ground in time. They’re very alike.”
“So alike,” I whisper under my breath, meeting her eyes.
“Are you having doubts?”
“Of course not,” I rush out, and it’s honest, the most natural thing I’ve ever said. “There isn’t a doubt in my mind that this is where I’m meant to be and who I’m meant to be with. I just–Blake is–there’s something he’s stuck on, something he won’t tell me. Something that happened to him that makes it impossible for him to be here with us all the time.” I struggle to put my observations into words, wringing my hands as I step closer to the kitchen island in surrender. “He has visions, can see the future, and hear the stars, Mom. They talk to him constantly, and he forces them back, like he’s holding his true power at bay, and I think it’s because of me. He–he saw that I was going to die and let me put a wedge between us, thinking our separation was somehow going to save my life, and now he blames himself for not being there, and for me turning to Dean. His family is on the cusp of war, and he’s the only person who can give them the information they need to protect their kingdoms, and he… can’t do it.”
Mom holds my gaze as I spill my heart, and it sucks. Goddess, it hurts.
“I feel like I’m the thing in his way.”
“Marianna–”
I hold up a hand, cutting her off. “I know how it sounds, but you have to hear me out on this. Blake knows how powerful he is. I can feel it radiating off him whenever we’re together. He knows he could single-handedly put an end to all of his family’s problems if he just allowed himself to be who and what he is, but he won’t, for me. And now… with Skye? She’s more powerful than he was at her age. It’s weighing on him. I can tell he feels like he’s being pulled in several different directions.”
“What do you think Blake actually wants? Is it power, Marianna, or is it a simple life with you?”
I meet my mother’s gaze, my heart lodged in my throat as I weakly reply, “It’s me, but–”
“Then there’s nothing else to say. He’s in control of his gifts. It’s his decision. If he wants to forsake his power and live quietly with you, that’s up to him. Isn’t that what you want as well?”
“I’m worried about him,” I gut out, my fingers curling into fists. “Too much time has passed. We’ve only had a few weeks to sort out our issues with each other. He’s taking on too much.”
“Then tell him how you feel.”
“It doesn’t matter how I feel when he can’t talk to me about this. He doesn’t think I’ll understand.”
“And maybe he’s right, and you won’t, but Blake is a grown man. He’s a strange man, yes, but he has stood by your side since you came back into his life without question. He was devastated beyond recognition when you nearly died. He’s carrying that, Marianna. He looks at you and Skye and sees a future that he’s desperate to protect.”
“I know.” My heart begins to crack as I dig my nails into my palms. “I also see a future I want to protect, but that means…”
“Being honest with him?” Mom cocks her head to the side, giving me a pointed look.
I exhale deeply and roll my eyes to the ceiling. “This part of him, his gifts, is something I still don’t understand.”
“Then tell him. He’s in the city today, isn’t he?”
“He told me not to go to the orrery or temple without him.”
“Well, he’s already there,” she remarks, crossing her arms over her chest. “So… that counts for something.”
Without a second thought, I hike my purse over my shoulder and turn toward the front door, but hesitate, glancing at her over my shoulder. “We’ll continue our conversation about your abandoning me and Skye later.”
“Me living by myself is not abandoning either of you!” She laughs, but I’m already stalking toward the door, and the heat of the day greets me in a breeze carrying the heavy, floral scent of wisteria and magnolia blossoms–deep and rich–the first real hint of summer in Moonrise.
***
My skin immediately erupts in prickles the second I pass through the sacred archway of the temple. The air in here is chilled despite the open windows and archways leading to the courtyards that span the length of the massive religious campus. It could be winter still, for all I know, as I scurry through the temple, ignoring the curious glances from priestesses. No one speaks to me, however, which I’m incredibly grateful for, but when I reach the second building–a dormitory, I believe, for those who live here full time–mystics begin to take the place of the more nonchalant priestesses of the Moon Goddess, dressed in white or pale blue robes with veils or masks. They rise from benches, turn their veiled faces, and pause their conversations to stare at me and… bow.
Chills snake up and down my spine as they part to allow me to hurry through the main hallway, past the moonstone fountain where Skye once made her wishes. I can feel their gaze on my skin, burrowing deep. I hate it. I want to crawl out of my body, to wash my skin raw. It’s a sensation that’s almost impossible to describe, but it’s like being looked at under a microscope, like they have the ability to flay me open with just a look.
Blake, to his credit, doesn’t make me feel like that, but when I reach the massive glass doors that open to the orrery, I realize that he could. He has used his powers on me. He’s seen my life’s trajectory laid out on a silver platter.
He’s tried to change it to save my life.
The door opens wide, and I realize I’ve been standing there trying to catch my breath for what could have been several minutes. Blake looks down at me, one of his dark brows raising just a touch.
“I know you told me not to come here without you, but I figured you were already here–” I cut myself off, biting my tongue, and slowly meet his gaze. His eyes shine like polished amethyst in the sparkling sunlight shimmering through the domed glass ceiling.
“Are you all right?”
“I hate it here,” I whisper before I can stop myself, and he gives me a half-cocked smile–something small and just for me–a confirmation that he feels the same. He reaches for me, his touch warm and grounding, and guides me through the doors.