Fallen in Love (9 page)

R
oland came awake feeling queasy and lost.

The sweet memory of loving Rosaline was slipping away. He touched his throbbing head and realized that he was lying on the ground.

Slowly, he rolled to his feet. He ached something ugly, but nothing that wouldn’t repair itself given time.

He glanced back up at the balcony. He’d never have fallen from it in the old days. Probably shouldn’t have worn full armor. He was getting rusty. How many times had he climbed this very wall in anticipation of meeting
her? How many times had Rosaline’s long blond hair beckoned him like Rapunzel’s locks?

Usually, when Roland reached the balcony, she would be waiting, purely elated to see him. She would cry out his name in a hushed whisper, then bound into his arms. She would feel so light, so delicate against him, her skin scented with rose water from her bath, her body almost humming with the power of their secret love—

Roland shook his head. No, their courtship had not been all joy pure and bright. One dark memory tainted the rest.

It was the last memory he had of her.

It came in the third season of their secret courtship, as the world around them turned toward fall and the greens of summer burned away in a riot of flaming oranges and reds.

Together they planned to run away, to escape her father’s rule, as well as the prejudices of a society that wouldn’t allow a nobleman’s daughter to be married to a Moor. Roland had gone away from his love for one week, under the guise of making plans for their new life.

But it had been a lie. He’d gone to seek counsel on the real problems that lay before them:

Would she still love him if she knew?

And:

Could he keep his nature secret from her and still give her a happy life?

Really, there had only been one person to turn to.

He found Cam at the southern tip of the islands that would one day be called New Zealand. Back then, both islands were completely untouched by man. The Maori wouldn’t reach the land for another half a century, so Cam had the whole place to himself.

As Roland flew, the cliffs threatened, as sharp as daggers, unlike any he had seen before. The winds bore treacherously down on his wings, tossing him among the clouds. He was shivering and soaked by the time he reached the vast, pristine sound where Cam was hiding from the universe.

The water was a mirror for the mountains, which were green with beech woods. Dipping a wing tip in the water as he passed over its surface, Roland found it icy cold. He shivered and kept on.

At the far end of the sound, he landed on a slate-gray boulder that faced an unfathomably tall waterfall, whose heights were hidden in mists. At its base lay Roland’s fallen angel brother, letting his wings be pummeled by the falling water.

What was Cam doing? And how long had he been lying there, in this water-torture chamber of his own making?

“Cam!”

Roland shouted his name three times before he gave up and waded in to pull his brother out. Feeling someone
else’s touch, Cam flailed and clung to the rocks where he’d lain. But then he recognized Roland and let himself be dragged out, suspicion sharp on his face.

Roland hauled them both onto a rocky ledge behind the falls. It was hard work, and it left him panting, soaking wet, and frozen to his core. The ledge was shallow, but there was enough room for both of them to stand on the damp stone. It was eerily quiet there just behind the roar of the water.

Exhausted, Roland staggered backward until his wings met rock, then slid down and sat.

“Go home, Roland.”

Cam’s green eyes looked dazed and disoriented as he propped himself up on one elbow. His naked body was one sickly purple bruise from the waterfall’s ceaseless beating. But worst of all, his wings—

They were shot through with new gold fibers. Roland couldn’t help admiring how brilliantly they shimmered under the moonlight.

“So it’s true.” Roland had heard the rumors that Cam had crossed over to Lucifer’s side.

Neither demon seemed capable of mustering the ritual reserved for greeting new members of the fold. They were meant to embrace, thread their wing tips together as an expression of each one’s acceptance of the other, the acknowledgment that they were safe and among friends.

Cam stood, walked over, and spat in Roland’s face. “You lack the strength to haul me back into service. Have Lucifer come here himself if he feels I’ve been neglectful.”

Roland wiped his face and pulled himself to his feet. He reached for Cam, but the demon flinched away.

“Cam, I didn’t come here to—”

“
I
came here to be alone.” Cam moved to a dim corner of the ledge, where Roland could now see a small pile of garments and bags—Cam’s few possessions. Roland thought he recognized the parchment scroll that could have been his marriage agreement, but Cam quickly flung a shaggy sheepskin cloak around his body and tucked the parchment into a deep pocket inside. “Oh, you’re still here?”

“I need advice, Cam.”

“On what? Living the good life?” Cam’s spark had come back, but it seemed garish in this pale, shadowy specter standing before Roland. “Start by finding yourself a deserted island. This one’s taken, but there must be more out there somewhere.” He flung his hand out at the world, at Roland.

“I love a mortal woman,” Roland said very slowly. “I want to shape my life around her.”

“You don’t
have
a life. You’re a fallen angel on the other side. You’re a
demon
.”

“You know what I mean.”

“Take it from me. Love is impossible. Get out and save yourself the heartache.”

In that moment, Roland realized he’d been foolish to go to Cam for advice. And yet he’d
had
to come. Cam’s love story hadn’t worked out—but he still understood what Roland was going through.

“Perhaps you could tell me what … 
not
to do?”

“All right,” Cam said, taking a deep, shuddering breath. “Fine. Do
not
demean yourself by living a lie. Do
not
ask me if she will love you if she finds out what you are—even the most lovesick fool knows the answer to that. She will not. She cannot. Do
not
dream that you can keep such a secret from her, either. And above all, for Lucifer’s sake, do
not
forget that no temple on earth will have you should you choose to wed this poor creature.”

“I believe I can make this work, Cam.”

“You believe you and your love see eye to eye, then?”

“Yes. We are devoted to one another.”

“And what is her view on eternity?”

Roland paused.

“Don’t tell me you don’t know? Fine then, I’ll tell you. Here, Roland, is the unquestionable truth about our immortality: Mortals cannot fathom it. It frightens them. The knowledge will devour her—that she will grow old and die and you will remain the young and strapping devil that you are.”

“I could change for her—I could make myself grow old, appear to wrinkle and wither and—”

“Roland.” Cam’s face soured. “That isn’t your style. Whoever she is, it will be easier on her now, when she is no doubt young and shapely and can find another mate. Don’t waste her best years.”

“But somehow, love must be possible. Just because you and Lilith couldn’t—”

“We’re not talking about me.”

They stood silently and listened to the echoing of the falling water around them.

“Fine,” Roland said at last, “then what about Daniel and Lu—”

“What about them?” Cam roared into the waterfall. His face turned red with sudden fury. “If they’re your models, go ask them for advice.” He shook his head, disgusted. “We all know what will become of them anyway.”

“What do you mean?”

Now Cam turned clear green eyes on Roland. And Roland flushed to find himself being pitied.

“In the end,” Cam said, “he will abandon her. He has no choice. He is no match for this curse. It will outlast him and undo him.”

Roland’s wings bristled. “You’re wrong. You have grown too close to Lucifer—”

“That couldn’t be further from the truth,” Cam
hooted, but when he spun around, Roland noticed the branding on the back of his neck. The tattoo reached just beyond the high collar of his cloak. Unmistakable.

“You wear his mark now?” Roland’s voice trembled. He didn’t have one. Would never hope to be offered one. Lucifer only branded certain demons, demons with whom he wanted a special relationship.

“Cam, you can’t—”

Cam caught Roland’s face in his hand and held tight. They stood close, locked in an intimate grip. Roland didn’t know if they were enemies or friends.

“Who came to whom to ask for advice, Roland? We are not talking about me and the way I conduct myself. We are talking about you and the pitiful love story that you are going to have to end.”

“There must be a way to—”

“Face it: You wouldn’t have come to me if you didn’t already know the answer.”

Of all the things that Cam had told him that day at the waterfall, his parting words were the hardest ones: Yes, Roland had already known the answer he sought. He’d just hoped that someone would tell him otherwise and save him from having to do what had to be done.

When he came back to tell her, Rosaline seemed already to know. He climbed to her balcony, but she did
not rush to kiss him. Her face stiffened in suspicion as soon as he came into her chambers.

“I sense a change in you.” Her voice was cold with fear. “What is it?”

Roland’s body ached when he saw her look so sad. He did not want to lie to her, but he could not find the words.

“Oh, Rosaline, there is so much I could tell you—”

Then, as if Rosaline remembered his loquacious poems, she demanded: “Answer me in one word. What does our future hold?”

That had been more than a thousand years ago. And still, Roland cringed now, thinking back on what he’d told her. He wished he could smash this memory and the moment with it. But it had happened. And you couldn’t change the past.

He had given Rosaline her one word:

“Farewell.”

He’d wanted to say, “Forever.”

But Cam had spoken truly: Forever wasn’t possible between a woman and a fallen angel.

He’d fled before she could beg him not to go. He thought he was being valiant. But life had taught him that he wasn’t. He was devastated and scared.

After that, Roland had only seen her once more: two weeks later, when he’d hovered out of sight of her castle window and watched his love weep for one full hour.

After that, he vowed never to cause anyone pain in love. He disappeared.

It became his way.

Roland brushed something from his cheek and was stunned to find it was a tear. Though he’d wiped a million briny drops from other cheeks, he could not recall a time when he himself had cried.

He thought of Lucinda and Daniel, of their eternal devotion to each other. They did not walk away from their mistakes—and over the centuries, they had made many of them. They returned to those mistakes, revisited them, worked through them, until something had at last clicked in this final life, when she was reincarnated as Lucinda Price. It was what had driven her to flee into her past—to find the solution to the curse. So that she and Daniel could be together.

They would always be together. Always have each other, no matter what.

Roland had no one.

Silently, he rose to his feet and made his own Valentine’s pledge. He would scale the wall to Rosaline again—and redeem himself the only way he knew how.