Marries Esme.
Claims the crown.
Each passing day causing his heart to harden and shrink into a smal bitter stone.
Not daring to believe he’l ever see me again.
Not daring to believe in anything, ever again.
And it breaks my heart to watch it, to watch him eventual y brought down in a revolt secretly staged by a brother turned against him.
Rhys ultimately marrying Fiona, Esme’s sister, only to find he can’t seem to stop longing for Esme, the one woman who wil never be his.
The four of them trapped in their own private hel , unable to find a way out.
Having no way to know what I’ve learned: When we harm one another, we also harm ourselves.
“Alrik is Damen.” I switch my gaze from the water to Lotus, surprised to hear myself say it, but knowing it’s true. “And Rhys is Roman, Heath is Jude, the vil age woman is Ava, her apprentices are the twins Romy and Rayne, Fiona is Haven, Esme is Drina…” Of course. I frown and rol my eyes. “And the doctor? Do I know him?” But before I can finish the sentence, I know. “The doctor is Miles.” I shake my head, al ow a smal laugh, then I add, “The only reasonable one in the group. The only one who wanted nothing to do with mystical cures.”
Sighing when I realize we’ve already done this, centuries earlier—only to fal into a similar trap, repeat a modern-day version of a nearly identical existence.
Glancing at the river, watching it clear, the images quickly fading when I say, “How did we not know this? Why do we keep making the same stupid mistakes over and over again?”
Facing Lotus, her gaze narrowing in a way that sets off a riot of wrinkles that fan either side of her eyes. Her voice low and grave, she says, “It is the plight of man. And while the blame lies partly on the river,” she gestures toward the swiftly moving dark waters before us,
“most of the blame lies on man’s inclination to tune into the noise that blares al around him, instead of the beautiful silence that lies deep within.”
I gaze out at the river, turning her words around in my head, realizing how they mirror everything I just learned. We spend our lives getting caught up in al the wrong things—led astray by our minds, our egos, seeing ourselves as separate from each other, rather than listening to the truth that lies within our own hearts, the truth that we are al connected, we are al in it together.
“The universe is patient,” she says. “Providing multiple opportunities for us to learn, to get it right, which is why we reincarnate.”
“So, it’s true then. Damen and I lived before as Adelina and Alrik.” I glance at her, seeing her nod in confirmation. “And I’m assuming he died in that life—a mortal death?” My eyes graze over her silver hair, down to the long white tunic stitched with gold, al the way down to her surprisingly bare feet, though it’s a moment before I notice that the cane she used the last time I saw her is gone. She is able to stand on her own.
“Oh yes,” she says. “He is caught in it now. Reliving the moment. Though it should be over soon.”
I press my lips together and fiddle with the hem of my T-shirt, thinking it over. Having no reason not to believe her, but stil , there’s something that doesn’t make any sense, something she needs to explain.
“But if that’s al true, then why is it that neither of us saw that life when we died and went to the Shadowland? And why didn’t Jude see it on any of his trips to the Great Hal s of Learning? I’m sorry, Lotus, but despite how real it al seemed, it just doesn’t make any sense.”
But despite my voice rising at the end, despite my getting more than a little caught up in my own argument, Lotus remains calm, serene, completely unruffled when she says, “You are familiar with the saying, ‘When the student is ready the teacher appears’?”
I nod, remembering how Jude once said it to me.
“It is the same with knowledge. The truth is revealed when you are ready to receive it, when you need it in order to move forward, to take the next step in your journey, to move on toward your destiny. You were not in need of that knowledge before, nor were you ready for it. And thus you saw only that which you needed to know and not a single thing more. But now that you are ready the knowledge was revealed. Each step leads us to the next. It is as simple as that. And the same goes for Damen and Jude.”
“And what about Jude? Is he stil stuck in that lifetime too?”
Lotus nods. Her gaze faraway when she says, “Jude has his own journey. You may not see him for a while. Though you wil see him again. Not to worry.”
My gaze lands on the river, noticing it’s grown darker, murkier, and glad to be standing safely on its banks rather than closer to its shore. “So is this it then?” I turn to face her. “Is this the journey? Is it over—have I completed what you’ve asked me to do?”
Lotus shakes her head, those rheumy old eyes meeting mine. “That was merely the beginning, the first test of many. Much lies ahead.
You have more to discover.”
And before I can ask what that means, before I can ask her to clarify for me, the ground begins to shake, the river begins to slosh and bulge, as the earth beneath my feet begins to shift and separate in a way that reminds me of my first California earthquake.
I fight to locate my voice, fight to free the scream that sticks at the back of my throat, when Lotus disappears—just simply evaporates
—as a swel of red tulips sprout up al around me, taking her place.
A sign that can only mean one thing—Damen has joined me.
Hundreds of tulips sent fluttering, their soft petals whispering against him, as he rushes over them, rushes toward me—grasping me into his arms, he picks me up off my feet, twirls me al around, and presses his lips to my face, my hair, my lips, my cheeks, then starts the
procession
al
over
again.
Desperately
reassuring
himself
that
I’m
here,
that
it
real y
is
me—
Adelina/Evaline/Abigail/Chloe/Fleur/Emala/Ever—his love of so many lifetimes, bearing so many names, but being of only one soul al the same. Final y made aware of the truth, that I never real y left him despite what he may have convinced himself of.
“Adelina!” He pauses, smoothing my hair from my face, his eyes hungrily roaming over me, drinking me in, as he laughs, shakes his head, realizes he’s stil caught up in the past, and says, “Ever!” He kisses me again, holds me tightly to him. “You were right. You were right al along. There was a life before—an entire lifetime I never could’ve imagined.” His eyes pore over me, stil a bit overcome by what just transpired. “But now that we know, what do you suppose it al means?” he asks, almost as though musing to himself.
I thread my fingers through his hair, aware that his question was meant to be serious, but eager to erase any trace of his lingering grief in favor of a much sweeter memory.
“Wel , for one thing, it means I wasn’t always a virgin.” I smile, remembering the beautiful night we spent together as Alrik and Adelina, and the wonderful part of the morning that fol owed.
Watching as he throws his head back and laughs, his hands clasping tighter around my waist as he says, “Now that’s a moment I wouldn’t mind reliving in the pavilion.”
He finds my lips again, warm, deep, then he pul s away and says, “And Jude?”
“Jude or Heath?” I lift a brow. “You do know they are one and the same?”
He nods, having figured that out.
And not sure exactly which part he wants me to explain, I say, “He insisted on joining me, and for some reason, Lotus al owed it. Said the answers he sought would be found there.”
“He loved you then too, didn’t he?” Damen’s mouth pul s down into a frown as his eyes stare into mine.
I nod.
“And the rest—did you see it? Al of
it?”
I take a deep breath and nod again.
Damen sighs, tries to turn, to pul away, but I won’t let him. I keep him clutched tightly to me.
His eyes pul ing down at the sides when he says, “No wonder Jude keeps reappearing in my life. He’s trying to keep us apart, but not for the reason I thought. He must recognize me, sense who I am, knows innately what I am. That I later succeeded where I first failed, ensuring my own immortality before going after yours.” He shakes his head. “Al of this time, for al of those lifetimes, without even realizing it, he was trying to stop me, trying to save you from me. ” He rubs his chin, looks at me wearily. “I thought I would die from the pain of losing you. I wanted to die. And trust me when I say my death did not come soon enough. I was left hol ow, a shel of a man without you.” He swal ows hard, swipes a hand across his eyes. “Heath begged me not to prosecute against Ava and the twins, or rather the people they were then. And when he couldn’t change my mind, he begged me to take him instead. He never forgave himself for bringing them to me. Never got over the guilt. Having summoned them as much for himself as he did for me. He couldn’t bear to lose you. Would do anything to keep you around even if it meant having to watch you marry me. But, when you died in spite of our attempts, he was quick to accept what I stubbornly resisted. What we did was wrong, unnatural, something best not attempted. He understood that; I did not. Neither in that life, nor the one that fol owed, where I eventual y found a way to finish what I’d started.” He shutters his eyes, musing at the fol y of the last several hundred years. “Did you see the rest of his life? Did you see what became of him?”
I shake my head.
Damen sighs, his hands warming my arms, gaze distant when he says, “He retreated somewhere far away, died alone, stil a fairly young man. I’m afraid my karma is more of a mess than I ever could’ve guessed.”
Not knowing what to say, I don’t say anything, but that’s okay, since Damen speaks in my place.
“So what now? Do we wait here—see if Jude or Lotus reappear? Make our way back and try to make amends for the deeds of prior lives we can’t real y change? It’s your cal , Ever. Your destiny. Your journey. I won’t doubt you again.”
I look at him, more than a little shocked by his words, knowing how much he likes being right, being in charge; most people do.
But he just lifts his shoulders and says, “Isn’t that the whole point? Isn’t that why you keep showing up in my lives? To teach me about grief, to teach me to feel it, to accept it, but to not try to outwit it. To lead me out of the dark and into the light—to show me the real truth of our existence—that I’ve had it wrong al along—that the soul is the only immortal part of us. Isn’t that why al this has happened, why you and I can’t find true happiness, why we keep facing obstacles that are impossible to surmount? Isn’t this why we find ourselves here now, because I got it al wrong and managed to mess up on such a colossal scale?”
The silence gathers around us. Damen absorbed by his past, while I’m left speechless by his words. Eager to move past it, not wanting to dwel here for long, I’m just about to tel him that I have no idea what could be next, that his guess is as good as mine, when I see a smal boat anchored by the shore, anchored right alongside us. A boat that appeared out of nowhere, wasn’t there less than a second ago.
And knowing there are no accidents here, no coincidences of any kind, I grasp his hand in mine, and start leading him toward it, saying, “I think we’re meant to go for a sail.”
twenty-two
I settle onto the seat, busying myself with rearranging the velvet pil ows at our backs as Damen slides in beside me. The boat is long, painted a dark glossy red with gold ornate swirls marking its sides, narrowing into a curving crest at both the front and the back in a way that reminds me of the gondola Jude and I once manifested in the Summerland version of Venice. But with no oar, no motor, no way to steer or guide ourselves, we’re at the mercy of the river. Left with no choice but to sit back and hope for the best.
The boat pul s away from the shore, drifting deeper into the water just seconds after we board, fol owing the current, giving no hint as to what might be in store. Damen slides a protective arm around me as we peer at the passing scenery, the way the river widens so swiftly it’s not long before we’re surrounded by nothing but deep dark water, the banks we once stood upon reduced to a slim speck of gold on a distant horizon.
I lean into Damen, wishing I could do something, say something to erase the hint of worry that plays at his brow, to ease the regret that burdens his heart. Seeing the way his eyes widen, the way he sits up higher, on ful -scale alert, as he looks al around and says, “It’s the River of Forgetfulness.”
I squint, vaguely remembering him mentioning such a place once before. Saying something about the soul taking a trip down the River of Forgetfulness before it’s reborn into the next life. That the purpose of that particular journey is so we don’t remember what came before—that we’re not meant to remember the lives we’ve just lived—that each incarnation offers a new journey of self-discovery, a chance to right our previous wrongs, to balance our accumulated karma, to find new solutions to old problems.
That life is not meant to be an open-book test.
Remembering how Lotus recently said something similar—that man’s fol y, his penchant for making the same mistakes over and over again, can be blamed partly on the river—and taking that as proof that Damen is right. It’s exactly what he thinks. Though it’s anyone’s guess where it wil end.
“Are we going to relive them all?” Damen asks, voice betraying a deep-seated reluctance, bearing no desire to ever revisit those painful early days he lived back in Florence, Italy.
But before he can get too bogged down in the thought, I look at him and say, “No. It’s a test. We have to do whatever we can to not let ourselves forget al that we’ve learned. Lotus came to me just before you arrived, she said knowledge is revealed when we need it, which means we need to hang on to al we just saw. We can’t forget a single moment. I’m pretty sure we’re gonna need it for later.”
“It’s a lot to hang on to.” He frowns. “The river is tricky. And other than the fact that I’ve made a mess of the last several hundred years
—that I owe Ava and the twins big time for taking their lives—what would you suggest I choose to concentrate on? There’s a good chance that when we get off this ship and go back to our normal lives we won’t remember any of the things we’ve just experienced.”
I steal a moment to gather my reply, partly because he may not like what I say, and partly because I’m stil amazed that he’s looking to me for the answers. Taking a deep breath, venturing a quick look around, before I return to him and say, “You need to remember that the soul is eternal. That love never dies. And that your failure to realize that, your attachment to the physical world is what brought us both here—brought us both to this point.”
There, I said it. It’s his fault. Stil , my voice bears no blame. He’s not the first to make that mistake. As Lotus said, it’s the fol y of man.
Damen’s just one of the few to actual y succeed at his attempt to thwart physical death—or at least for a while anyway.
“Then later, when we get through this, and wind up … wel , wherever we’l wind up, we’l need to use that knowledge to find a way to reverse what we’ve done—the mistakes that we’ve made,” I add, the words coming so quickly and easily it’s as though they emanate from some other place, but I know deep down inside, know in my gut, that they’re true. “That’s my journey.” I nod, suddenly knowing it for sure. “That’s the truth I’m supposed to reveal. How?” I peer at him, attempting to answer the question that marks his brow. “I’m not sure, but there’s no doubt in my mind that it’s what I’m destined to do.”
Damen looks at me, features hardened, conflicted, though sticking to his vow to fol ow my lead.
And though I search for a better argument, a better way to persuade him that’l erase any
lingering doubts, there’s no time to dwel . No time to assure him of what I know deep down inside to be true.
Not with the current growing swifter.
Not with the sky darkening in a way that instantly erases the horizon.
The line between heaven and earth, water and air, up and down, suddenly blurred. Catching us in a swirling, whirling surge of rogue waves, each one bigger than the one that came before, causing the river to expand and surge, to ripple and roar, until al we can do is hang on to each other, to keep from going overboard, capsizing into the water.
The sky cracking open with a rumble of thunder so loud, we seek shelter in the only place left to us—each other. The two of us trembling under a cloudburst of rain—an unrelenting monsoon—as great bolts of lightning strike down al around.
“Concentrate!” I cry, eyes squeezed shut against the downpour, my lips at his ear. “This is part of the test, hang on to the past, refuse to forget, no matter how scary it gets!”
Not quite sure where that came from, but again, sensing it to be true. Knowing firsthand the mighty power of fear, having been ruled by it before.
It’s the opposite of faith.
The opposite of trusting in the universe.
The opposite of believing in one’s higher self.
Fear leaves you sweaty and shaky and insecure enough to question everything you know to be true.
Fear makes you turn your back on what matters most.
Resulting in rash decisions, false moves, and later, the unrelenting burden of regret. And if Damen and I are to get through this, move forward on our path, we’l have to beat this river and overcome this storm by doing whatever it takes to block it al out.
The waters continue to churn and dip as the boat creaks and tilts in a terrifying way. Damen and I huddle together, clinging to our memories, clinging to each other, as a bolt of lightning burns up the bow, cracks it in half, and al ows a torrent of water to gush in.
Causing the bottom to fal out from the weight of it, as the river rises to swal ow us whole.