Dekker, Ted - Book of Mortals 02 - Forbidden by Dekker Ted

Author:Dekker, Ted [Dekker, Ted]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Mystery, Thriller, Suspense, Fantasy, Science Fiction, Adult
ISBN: 9781599953540
Amazon: 1599953552
Goodreads: 10791807
Publisher: Center Street
Published: 2011-09-13T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-two

Come here, Rom, son of Elias.” Feyn’s hands reached toward his face. “I want to look into your eyes.”

In the space of a single hour her reality had been redefined in a way that still made Rom’s head spin.

He leaned toward her on the grassy knoll as she laid one hand against his jaw, the other on his cheek.

“What are you looking for?” he said, beneath her gaze.

“I can almost see what you’re thinking. I hear my own thoughts as I never have before. There’s something in your eyes I’ve never seen in the eyes of anyone else. Last night I thought it was madness. But it’s far too beautiful.” She bit her lower lip. A moment later a tear spilled down her cheek.

He didn’t dare interrupt her metamorphosis—there was far too much at stake. He certainly wouldn’t tell her not to cry. To say it was to tell her not to feel. Impossible.

He had marveled at this transformation in her, relived moments of his own conversion in the basilica two nights ago. It had been fascinating and humbling. Amazing and horrifying. Horrifying, because he had watched the great abyss from which she had come in so short a time—a far greater distance than any of the others.

Her stoic world of Order had been shattered.

No wonder her heart had nearly burst upon breaking the surface. No wonder she had reeled beneath the sky, laughed at the sun, wept at birdsong on the knoll.

She had long ago thrown off her cloak without care for the dirtied dress she wore beneath, kicking away her leather shoes to feel the caress of the emerald grass on her toes.

He was entranced by it. By her.

“What is it, my lady?”

“Feyn,” she said.

He arched an eyebrow.

“Never call me lady again. I forbid it.” She broke into a heartrending smile. “My name is Feyn.”

“I know.” He couldn’t help a smile of his own. The whole world knew her name. But they did not know her and would never have recognized the woman before him. She had been beautiful before. She was vibrant now.

“I want to hear you say it.”

“Feyn,” he said. He had been less insistent with her since giving her the last of the vial, his need for answers replaced for the moment by his fascination with her desire to consume everything around her. The red flowers. The marvelous warmth of her stallion, whom she wept over, laying her cheek against his head.

And Rom himself.

“Feyn,” he said again. So close to her, he could see the separation of her irises, the ring of white that encased that uncanny glacial blue-gray.

Her lower lip, appearing so chiseled in every street banner and inaugural sign, was so plush that he hardly recognized the mouth of the Sovereign on the woman before him. He hardly recognized her at all, except for her eyes.

“What are you looking for in my eyes?” she said softly. “Tell me, do you see me, really? Do you see behind these eyes?”

He gazed into them, saw the riot of clarity and confusion at once.

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