“I HOPE YOU don’t mind, but I’ve lined up a ride already,” Clay said, pulling me from my thoughts. He wasn’t looking at me, though; he was staring at a spot somewhere farther down the length of the terminal.

I craned my neck to see whatever it was he was looking at. “A ride?”

A short full-figured lady, at least twenty years older than us, bounced over to Clay. She wore a pair of light-colored slacks and a sky-blue collared shirt, clearly dressed for slightly warmer climates than the current Paris evening. The pale shades against her dark-olive skin made her complexion glow, as if she carried around the sun that had kissed her golden-brown.

“Is she here?” the woman asked Clay as she closed in on us. Her voice was rich and deep. Even in the three words she’d spoken, an accent I couldn’t recognize colored her English. Her uncontained enthusiasm burst through every syllable though.

Looking around Clay, she spotted me. Her eyes locked onto me, and her mouth split into a wide grin. She practically clapped with excitement.

“Well, of course she is! She’s right there! Oh, it’s so obvious.” She clasped her hands over her mouth, and her eyes widened in what looked like joy. I could have been wrong, but it looked like tears glistened in her eyes.

I took a small step away from her bounding zeal. I’d never met anyone so enthusiastic before—and I’d lived with the fae for almost a year. It was a little overwhelming, especially after the stress of escaping the States and ten hours stuck on a plane.

Before I could escape, she grasped both of my hands in hers. The thick, black curls she’d piled into an uncontrolled bundle on the top of her head bobbled as she shook my hand vigorously. “I can’t tell you how thrilled I am to meet you.”

Clay chuckled, and I shot him a warning glare. He’d obviously expected the bundle of energy and had done nothing to warn me she’d be there. “Evie, meet Professor Zarita Cristou.”

“Professor?” I squeaked, still overwhelmed by her relentless energy. She definitely didn’t look like any professor I’d ever imagined. She was more like a puppy, bouncing excitedly between us.

I forced a smile onto my lips in response to her unbounded joy, but bringing another person into the equation worried me. Clay picked up on my concern and went to reassure me.

“Zarita spent hours interpreting the old texts and artifacts to help me,” he murmured into my ear just loud enough that I could hear him. Zarita’s lip twitched upward as he gave his explanation, so I figured she could hear him too. I glanced around nervously to ensure no one else was nearby. “Of course, she didn’t believe any of it was based on actual fact.”

“Nonsense,” she said, proving she’d heard him and waving him off with a flick of her wrist. “I just allowed you to believe that so you would let me help. After all, what academic in their right mind would think that the personification of Ba`alat Gebal walking the Earth could actually be true.”

“Who?” I asked, looking between Clay and Zarita for clarification.

“Ba`alat Gebal? Anat? Hathor? Astarte?” She rolled off the names as if they were supposed to mean something to me.

I looked back over to Clay to see if he could shed some light on the topic for me.

“Didn’t he tell you any of this?” She clucked in irritation before looping her arm around mine. She led me away, allowing Clay to follow behind us. “There were a hundred different names and incarnations of her legend. She was the Great Goddess. All-powerful. All creating-preserving-destroying. Her name was synonymous with both the moon and the sun at different times, with the Earth and the sea. She fell from the stars as fire and protected the city of Byblos.”

“Wait,” Clay said, jogging to catch up to us. “You knew what you were reading was true?” Confusion was clear in his tone, and I realized he was starting to doubt his own choice of involving her in our escape.

“What’s true?” She flicked her wrist at him again. Then she winked at me. “I’ve had a few encounters with the supernatural in my time,” she said. “Why else do you think ancient mythology interested me so much?”

I still wasn’t sure exactly how to take the small but dynamic woman.

“I studied in England.” She gave me a knowing look that confused me at first. “About twenty-eight years ago.”

Her knowing look, the place she’d studied, and the subject she mentioned came together and the truth behind her words dawned on me.

“You were there with Mom?” I guessed.

She nodded sadly. “I knew Emily. She was a good friend to a girl who didn’t feel like she belonged at such a prestigious place. We were in many classes together, at least until she left suddenly in our second year. That wasn’t long after she began dating your father. Ah, David, he was such a handsome man back then. Many of the girls admired him in secret, even though his heart was always Emily’s. How is—”

She cut off as she took in the look on my face, and Clay shook his head slightly.

“I’m sorry to hear,” she murmured sadly. “He was a good man.”

I nodded as tears pricked my eyes. “The best.”

Clay cleared his throat nervously. When I met his eye, sorrow and guilt over Dad’s death were the dominant emotions.

“He died protecting me,” I said as I reached back for Clay’s hand—the words intended more for him than Zarita. “He would have been happy I survived.”

“Of course, he would.” Zarita patted her hand against my cheek in a comforting movement as we stopped in front of a small lime-green three-door hatchback. “This is us.” She opened the passenger door.

She reached into the car and pulled the release on the passenger seat to propel it forward and provide access to the backseat. I moved to climb in, but she made a dismissive noise and indicated Clay should get in first. It was testament to whatever they had shared in the past—or maybe to his desire to keep me happy—that he climbed into the small space without complaint.

“We have much to discuss,” she said to me as she pushed the seat back against Clay’s legs.

Clay issued a loud “oof” as the seat clipped back into position giving him nowhere near enough legroom for someone of his stature.

Zarita marshaled me into the passenger seat, and I scrambled in before reaching down to slide the seat as far forward as I could in order to give Clay a little more space. He reached forward, gripping the sides of the seat and stopping me from moving it any farther before wrapping his fingers around my arm. It was a silent conversation, letting me know my comfort was more important than his. I disagreed, but I wasn’t in any position to argue.

Zarita caught the small exchange as she climbed into the driver’s side.

“That’s the way David used to look at Emily,” she said sadly as she watched Clay. I cleared my throat as the memory of the photo I used to have of Mom and Dad came to mind. I’d always thought that it was clear Mom and Dad had been infatuated with each other, even though Dad had told me it was taken a long time before they started dating.

Zarita turned her gaze onto me. “You look just like her, you know. The resemblance is almost uncanny, but of course, that is to be expected . . . given the manner of your birth, I mean. I’m sure I have an old photo of her somewhere at home, I can show you one day maybe?”

Despite the queasiness in the pit of my stomach, I nodded. “So, how did you meet Clay anyway?” I asked in order to change the subject away from the one that would only get more painful as it continued. He’d said she helped him, but not how he had found her or what they’d done. Was she a Rain operative? It was unlikely given her excitement to see me, and the fact she hadn’t raised a gun to my head the instant she’d seen me.

In truth, it was a little surprising that Clay and Zarita were friends. They lived on different continents and didn’t look like they’d run in the same circles at all. Even as the thought struck me, one thing became clear: I knew almost nothing about Clay’s life outside of our little bubble. Zarita could be exactly the sort of person he usually spent his time with, and I wouldn’t know.

“He was looking for an expert in mythology and translation of ancient scripts. Apparently I came highly recommended, but he would never tell me who from.”

Clay shrugged. “I just heard your name mentioned,” he said. “Around the Rain,” he added in a rushed murmur.

“Filthy organization,” she spat, answering my thought over whether she could possibly be part of it. “Present company excluded of course, dear.” She leaned over and patted Clay’s hand lightly.

“You won’t hear any arguments from me on that. They’ve tried to kill Evie too many times to count.”

I frowned at his statement.

Zarita smiled back at Clay in a motherly fashion. I thought I detected a touch of nostalgia and regret on her face, and I wondered whether his statement was a reminder of Mom and Dad. The memory of Dad and everything he’d lost twisted my stomach into a knot as I wondered again whether Mom’s fate would be mine. I couldn’t help but worry that despite the information Clay had given me that promised the potential for a normal life in a year’s time, my future would consist of nothing more than an early demise and a fiery death. If that happened, Clay would suffer. The thought I might cause him to relive Dad’s life weighed heavy on me, and I frowned out the window.

“What brings you back so soon?” she asked, glancing at Clay in the rear vision mirror. “You didn’t really elaborate on the phone.”

“We needed to get out of the states for a while—my family . . . they think Evie’s dead. I want to do everything in my power to make sure they keep thinking that.”

She nodded at his statement before turning back to me. Her eyes assessed the few strands of hair that had begun to slip out from underneath the baseball cap I had on, and then she met my gaze.

“A phoenix!” A bark of laughter accompanied her words.

Her unexpected exclamation made my heart leap in my chest and my body to jolt in surprise. Clay chuckled in the backseat, and I shot him a warning glare in the rear vision mirror. When his brown eyes met my lilac ones, he winked and gave me a grin that evaporated my concern and made my stomach flip.

“Sorry, dear,” Zarita said. Her voice was at least a few decibels lower. “I’ve studied mythology for so long. It’s exciting to actually meet someone so special.”

“But you said you knew Mom.”

“Yes, but I knew her before I knew what she was, before she really understood what it meant to be what she was—the dangers involved. It’s usually a very solo life for the phoenix.” Her expression was unreadable, but the way her lips turned down at the corners told me her celebrations had ended. “You know, being born the way they are,” she added in a subdued tone.

I stared down at my hands as my eyes misted with tears. Clay’s hand rubbed my arm. Without even seeing my face, he understood the impact her words might have had.

“Oh, but of course you know that. I apologize, dear. I usually deal with books and pottery. I’m actually not much of a people person.”

I chuckled darkly. “I know the feeling.”

We traveled south along a multilane highway. Before too long, the city dropped away behind us, giving me a strange sense of freedom.

“Where are we going?” I asked as I watched the headlights of the cars all around us.

“I have an apartment in Marseille I use whenever I consult for La Vieille Charité.”

“It’s an archeological museum,” Clay clarified quietly. “But it used to be a refuge for the displaced many years ago. They have some interesting artifacts because of their history.”

His words made me think he meant more than homeless humans.

“Like North Brothers Island?” I pondered, wondering if he knew the true story of that place as well.

He nodded. “Exactly like North Brothers Island. And it ended for similar reasons. Once the Rain discovered the location of the sanctuary, they charged in to destroy it in the name of humanity.”

“Filthy organization,” Zarita muttered again. “Only dedicated to suffering.”

“Are there still refuges like that around?” I asked.

“Who knows,” Clay said. “It’s harder to hide those sorts of things these days. A hundred years or more ago, they were quarantine stations. Go back even further and it was alms houses or fake monasteries.”

“I could have used something like that,” I murmured to myself before realizing that I’d had a refuge, with the fae, and it hadn’t helped me. It was impossible to hide from yourself after all. I shook off the thought. “How do you know about the museum?”

“There were a few artifacts regarding your history I had to,” Clay coughed uncomfortably, “acquire. Most of them were then anonymously donated to the museum.”

“You stole them?” I exclaimed. His meaning was clear even if he hadn’t actually said the word.

Zarita’s unfazed expression indicated that she already knew the less than legal lengths Clay had gone to in order to find out more about my ancestry.

He risked stealing ancient, probably priceless, artifacts just to ensure I was safe.

I swallowed the lump in my throat and turned in my seat to gawp at Clay. My awe over his admission had to be obvious in my expression.

He cleared his throat awkwardly before scrubbing the back of his neck and turning his eyes away from the intensity of my gaze.

How could you have ever doubted his love?

“I am so sorry,” I murmured. My throat was tight, but I forced the words out regardless. “I can’t believe I thought the worst of you for so long when this was what you were doing.”

“It doesn’t matter,” he said dismissively. His gaze met mine for less than a fraction of a second before he frowned and looked away again. The palm of his hand was at risk of fusing to his neck with the pressure he was applying. He sighed and dropped his head as far as he could in the small space.

“It does. It matters to me. I’m not used to anyone doing so much for me.” Dad was the only other person who had sacrificed so much for me. Even with all Aiden had offered me, it was at almost no personal cost to himself.

“Don’t, Evie,” Clay whispered in a heated tone. “Don’t worship me for things you think I’ve done.”

“Clay, not now,” Zarita said with a shake of her head. “Let’s wait until we’re out of the car.”

I looked between them. “I don’t understand.”

“I have to say it,” he said to Zarita. He turned his gaze back onto me, holding it steady this time. “I have to tell you the truth,” he growled. “The first time I came here, I didn’t come for you. I didn’t come with any reunion in mind.” It all tumbled from him in a flurry of words. “If anything, it was the exact opposite of that. I thought us being together was impossible, and for a while I wasn’t even sure it was what I wanted anymore. In fact, I had planned never to try to find you again because that is what I thought you wanted. Instead, I came for me. I needed . . .” he paused, and his gaze slid from my eyes to his own hands clasped in front of him, as if he were uncertain how I would react to what he said next. “I needed to know.”

His words, combined with the concern on his features, confused me. “To know what?”

When he didn’t answer, I glanced over to Zarita to see if she’d be able to shed any light on the situation. Her gaze flicked between the road and me. She held the steering wheel tightly in her hands, as if she might need extra control over the car at any moment. Her expression was tight, a mask of something that was almost, but not quite, fear. There was definitely an edge of caution about all of her movements that put me on edge.

“To know what?” I asked again, my voice more demanding and impatient.

Clay sighed. “You have to understand. From the very first time I tried to find you, Dad was convinced I was under some sort of spell. Lou too. They all . . . they thought I changed too much too quickly to have actually been in love. They tried for so long to convince me that you’d somehow ensnared my heart. When you left, when I saw your fear and desperation to get away from me, the hole in my chest was so gaping that I began to wonder . . .” he squeezed his eyes shut.

“I needed to know.”

“You had to find out whether it was true?” I asked as understanding dawned within me. “Whether I’d forced you to have feelings for me?”

I twisted back to the front of the car and leaned heavily against the seat as I tried to calm my breathing. It was so hard not to react to the fact that, for a time at least, Clay had thought the worst of me.

My heart ached and pounded against my chest as if it had broken loose and wanted nothing more than to escape my body to avoid the agony. Heat tingled in my fingers as warmth spread out across my body. It was all so similar to our first conversation about my true nature, and I couldn’t help wondering whether I had subconsciously done something to instill the emotions in him all the way back then.

His next exhalation was heavy, and when he spoke it was with a clear uncertainty. “And I wanted to know how to break it if you had.”

“Then you found out about the sunbird mating for life thing,” I whispered in shock, knowing that if he’d left America with the notion I’d somehow tricked him, discovering the apparent connection caused by the sunbird must have been enough to convince him I had.

Yet, he’d seemed okay with the concept when he’d revealed it to me a few weeks ago. Was that a lie? Was he still trying to work out how to break away?

The back of the seat pushed forward sharply as he pressed his forehead against it. “I was so angry when I first found out,” he murmured quietly. “I thought it confirmed everything my family warned me about. There was a time when I wanted to hate you because it would have been easier.”

The breath rushed from my body. Despite knowing he’d returned to ensure I would be safe, it was still hard to hear that he’d thought I had cast some sort of spell on him and wanted to break free of it. It was even more difficult knowing my true nature had captured him in ways I’d never intended—that any love we shared was the result of hokum and bullshit from my ancestors. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know I did anything.”

“You didn’t, Evie,” he murmured. His hand reached for my arm, and his fingertips ran soothing trails along my skin.

The small, tender touch calmed me and made me want to hear the rest of his story—to know more about what had changed his mind—but I couldn’t find my voice to ask.

“I just didn’t know that then. I’d just lost you and my sister within a short space of time. I wasn’t exactly thinking straight.”

“There isn’t a word for the relationship shared with a phoenix in the English language,” Zarita said. “It’s because the concept has not been developed for the modern world. Soul mates, true love, fate, all of those concepts imply there is only one other out there, and that some mystical force will bring you together. This is more of a . . .” She paused for a moment as she struggled to find the word. “Recognition of self, mirrored in another. It is the awakening and joining of two separate and complete souls, not a union between two halves. It is apparently a powerful union, and yet it is powerless to compel your actions, or your heart.”

“There isn’t a spell. There’s no trick. I love you because you are strong, and beautiful, and everything I’ve ever wanted, not because of some ancient bird.” His fingers stopped their trailing and clutched at my arm as though I was about to flee from him. “Zarita helped me to decipher the texts about the true meaning of the concept, and that’s why I’m okay with the knowledge.”

Zarita waved her hand in dismissal. “All I did was explain to you what the symbols meant.”

“You did more than that, and you know it.”

She glanced in the rearview mirror at him, and I wondered again what had happened when they’d last met. Clearly, Zarita meant a lot to Clay. He almost treated her like the mother he’d lost when he was so young.

“So you see, I didn’t come here for you,” he murmured to finish his story. “I don’t want you to think I’m some sort of saint who selflessly went off in search of information to save your life. I just couldn’t ignore the information once I’d found it. I couldn’t risk your life that way.”

Despite the fact my heart ached like it had just come out of the meat grinder, having the knowledge actually helped. Somehow the fact Clay had experienced some doubts about me made my own doubts in him feel like less of a betrayal and more like a trial we’d had to pass through in order to be together. It made me certain that nothing would be able to falter the trust we’d earned from one another anymore, but I struggled to find a way to vocalize my emotions.

“Please, tell me you don’t hate me for the way I felt,” Clay murmured behind me. I was certain his words were meant only for me.

I twisted in my seat and reached back for him, and he clutched my hand between his and brought it to his lips. Despite the awkward and uncomfortable position, my lips curled into a smile at his response.

“I could never hate you, Clay,” I reassured him, running my fingertips over his lips. “Never.”

When I turned back to the front, he reached forward to hold my hand at my side.

A strange stillness settled over the car for the rest of the trip. Zarita occasionally asked questions about my experiences since the sunbird had woken. She was fascinated by the way the sunbird took over control in life-threatening situations. Explaining the way I lost control was awkward and more than a little uncomfortable. If it had been anyone else, I probably would have refused to answer the question, but it was clear Clay trusted Zarita. Maybe I didn’t know exactly what they’d shared, but I knew him enough to know she hadn’t earned that degree of trust lightly. Even if without Clay’s trust, hearing what she’d done for the two of us by interpreting the artifacts made me willing to share a little of myself too.

Hours later, in the dark of night, we drove through the narrow streets of Marseille. The gray buildings loomed over the road, as if hushed secrets of long ago filled the streets if you only knew where to look. We finally arrived at Zarita’s apartment a little after midnight.

Once we’d taken our backpacks up to the apartment, Zarita turned to Clay and me.

“You must be hungry,” she said. “It’s a good thing I stocked up on food yesterday when I arrived.”

I glanced around the clearly well-loved space. The walls were a soft eggshell color and the roof was a pristine white with ornate crown moldings. Most of the furniture was wooden, some stained in a dark mahogany and others painted with an off-white finish.

The dark wooden legs of the dining table bowed out halfway to the ground, giving the piece an elegant shape. On the far side of the room was a sofa that looked like it belonged in a museum—or a castle. Edged with dark wood, the cream seatback lifted high against the wall like an oversized throne. The material on the arms curved outward in a fashion reminiscent of waves tumbling over the wood, and its legs bowed outward the same way the table’s did. The only splash of color throughout the room was the turquoise throw cushions on the sofa.

When I had spun slowly to take in all the details, I had to snap my jaw shut to be able to talk.

“You don’t live here all the time?” I couldn’t comprehend having a place so nice and not living in it.

She chuckled. “I take it you like it?”

I nodded. “It’s beautiful. You have great taste.”

“Thank you,” she said. “But I purchased it fully furnished, and it’s my maid who keeps it clean. Sometimes it’s more of a hassle than a benefit, except on the few occasions when I need to be near the museum.” She led me to the window and pointed to what appeared to be a gap between the surrounding buildings. “It’s right there. I’ll take you down for a look tomorrow if you like.”

“Thanks for the offer, but I think we’ll be moving on tomorrow,” Clay said. “Thank you for the ride as well. You really didn’t have to do that.”

She scoffed at him. “I wouldn’t have missed the chance to meet this one.” She patted my cheek in an affectionate way. “But are you sure you won’t stay?”

“We couldn’t impose on you that way,” I said.

“It’s not an imposition, really. I barely use the apartment. At least spend a few days here until you get your grounding? I insist.”

“Where do you live then if not here?” I asked.

“Cyprus,” she said. “That was where young Clay found me originally.” There was more to the story than she was saying that much was clear. I glanced between them suspiciously as I wondered whether they might ever tell me it all but didn’t feel it was my place to insist, at least not aloud.

Clay chuckled and scrubbed his neck. “She directed me toward some pieces I needed to procure.”

“And he almost got us both arrested in the process.” She laughed.

Maybe I didn’t need to hear the stories of their adventures.

“Please, stay?” she asked again. “I’m flying home tomorrow, and you can have the apartment for as long as you need.”

“Uh . . .” Clay started to argue, but Zarita steamrolled on.

“I’ll give you a pass to La Vieille Charité, and then you can show Evie some of her history.”

Clay glanced at me, and the desire I had to see firsthand some of the items that he’d found must have been printed on my face because he reluctantly agreed.

“We only need it for a week at the absolute outside though. We can’t be here any longer than that, or it will be too dangerous for you.”

“Don’t worry about me,” she said. “I’ve been around this stuff for long enough now. I know how to take care of myself.”

I expected Clay to argue, but instead he nodded. “Okay. Now, I’m starving. Do you two want to organize a bedtime snack? I’ve got to call Eth and let him know we’ve arrived in France. So I’m going to find a payphone.”

“You’re going to tell him where we are?” Heat flowed through my veins at the thought. I might have found an uneasy truce with Ethan before we left the States, but I wasn’t ready for him to have the full details of our European adventure just in case he changed his mind.

“No, although he’ll be able to track us to within a few blocks of the payphone. Which is all the more reason that we’ll have to leave soon. But I have to call him to let him know we got out okay. It’s the least I can do after what he did for us.”

I nodded as Zarita gave him directions to the nearest payphone.

“Clay,” I said when he reached the door.

He looked back at me and waited for me to continue.

“Be careful.”

He smiled coyly at me. “Always.”