Wild ​Reverence

by Rebecca Ross

For anyone who has ever had to let go of someone they love

“A name shapes a divine as much as the stars do,”

“Matilda?” my mother repeated, surprised. “Why?” “It means mighty in battle.”

War only makes love flame brighter, defiant. It seems to bloom from the bloodshed you leave behind, unfurling from the most unlikely places. From the broken seams of the world. From the graves and the anguish and the fear you inspire.”

But the truth is … there has been no divine born to the Underlings or the Skywards since.

the truth is that we measure life by the end of it, or the lack thereof for immortals.

“Your daughter will be a messenger, carrying words and tidings and proclamations from one realm to the next.”

Movement was destined to be my armor. I was not fully an Underling, and nor was I a full-blooded Skyward. I was both, and this had never happened before. I was Matilda alone. Matilda of nowhere and no kin. I would become the herald of the gods, much to my mother’s chagrin. And the goddess of death had certainly seen something out of place within my stars.

Because of this constant threat, my mother’s closest allies became my own. Bade, god of war. Phelyra, goddess of revelry and coin. And Alva, goddess of dreams and nightmares.

Death changes mortal hearts in ways that are difficult for us to fathom.

I would like to think my story began long ago when I came into the world as a pale, silent boy, destined to one day die. But it truly begins here, in this moment when my dreams grew bones and teeth and skin in the waking realm. The moment I met Red.

What could I have done to keep a goddess safe? I realized it could not be achieved by embracing her. Only by letting her go. This thought left me bruised, aching.

“If you see her again, keep her at your side by whatever means possible.”

You hold on to her. But who could hold on to the wind? And—better yet—who would be so foolish as to trust—to love—such a wild being?

This is the beginning of the end, I thought. If heartless gods can be made soft by such love, we are all doomed.

I could hear joy in his voice; I could see delight limn his face as he looked at me. The air between us became golden, sweet. It felt like reuniting with someone after missing them for a long time.

“In battle,” he finally said, “there comes a moment when you must decide if you want to stand your ground and fight, even if it brings death, or if it is time to retreat and run.”

“You are strong,” she said. “You are brave. And you will return to us.”

My throat closed as I continued to stare at her; she had only become more beautiful, more powerful with time. A rose that had grown thorns.

“I am an Underling, but I am also a Skyward. I cannot claim one over the other. And I am the worst thing that has ever happened to the gods.”

“Then let me accompany you,” I said. “Let me be at your side. Not only as a goddess, but as your wife.”

When he exhaled, I drew air in, like we were counterparts, dependent on the other.

Lady, not Goddess, and at first I was taken aback until I realized this should be my title as Vincent’s wife, and I accepted it with a tilt of my head.

“Don’t take another arrow for me,” he said,

“Sometimes,” I said, stepping closer to him, “it is good to laugh, even on terrible days.”

“This is Matilda of Underling and Skyward,” he continued, “the herald of the gods. She and I … we have stirred up affection from the past and exchanged a vow in my chambers, becoming man and wife. Already, she has saved my life tonight, as her bloodstained dress reveals. She took an arrow that was supposed to be mine, and I only breathe and stand before you tonight because of her. She is your Lady of Wyndrift, and I would ask you to welcome her, to honor and love her as you do me.”

“Forgive me, but I must kiss you now. They are waiting to witness it.”

His mouth met mine, chaste and gentle. It was a polite meeting of our lips, but his hands continued to frame my face. His thumbs caressed my cheekbones, as if he was learning the way I felt beneath his touch.

His appearance fascinated me; the closer I looked, the more stories I found within the details.

We only touched in fleeting moments. And we might meet in startled brevity, like the moon eclipsing the sun every thirteen winters. A meeting that felt so fierce the whole land took note of its shadow. But we were never meant to be bound together. Not even in pretense.

“I will see you soon. Wife.”

I liked how we were both dreaming side by side, this time with our eyes open. She made the impossible seem like it was within reach.

My arm reached out, sliding beneath her ribs. I drew her closer to me until my warmth could seep into her, our bodies aligned, our legs tangled together. It reminded me of a day long ago, when I had held her fiercely to me, afraid to let her go beneath the churning of wings. I felt that heady tug between us, that cord I could not see but feel.

I stared up at the sky, naming the constellations, until I found hers—a bright six points. Herald of the gods. A kestrel in flight. I willed those stars to burn always, because I could not bear to imagine them ever going dark.

“I did not need to capture her,” I said. “Unless you deem love a fetter.”

“You do not strike me as one who scares easily, lord.” “Oh, there are many things that I fear.” I let myself trace the edge of her jaw. Her eyes closed, briefly, as if she liked it.

“He chose me first,” I replied. “He dreamt of me before I knew of him. His soul found mine before I even knew how to look for his.”

I pressed my lips to Matilda’s neck; I breathed against her chilled skin. She tasted like rain. I whispered into her hair, words only she could hear. “Return to me, Red.”

If this is my fate, then let it be.

When I met his stare, I felt my heart lurch as if it had grown its own fragile wings.

His voice had pulled me back through howling gusts and constellations of unnamed stars. Through a distance that had felt as endless and deep as the sea.

“Although now I understand why you would be here, waging war. I understand why you would bring down a tower. If it was for love.”

“If you are going to risk yourself for him, for love,” Bade began, “then you need to prepare yourself to pay the cost for it. You may believe that you will be different, that you will slip through such a noose unscathed, but it is inescapable. There will be a price for it. When one of our kind loves something that is mortal … there is always a sacrifice that must be made. Although perhaps you just began to pay it.”

I did not want someone helping me out of duty. I was weary of such things, of a world of debts and vows. I would prefer to face the terror alone than to have someone in my shadow who was only there out of obligation.

I loved the feel of his hand on mine. The calluses of his skin, the strength of his grip. The way he smelled like wild herbs and wind. He held me to his realm like an anchor, and I savored the pull of his breath in my hair. The promising warmth of his presence at my back.

“Stay,” Vincent whispered. “Stay with me a little while longer.”

Her presence had weight; the very air seemed to gather around her. I would know she was near, even in the darkness.

I would have made an interlude for us, a space when the hour lost its bite and the sun stood still. We could simply breathe and let ourselves unravel this knot between us, slowly.

Matilda smiled at me. That is when I knew I was doomed, knee-deep in this quandary. I loved her. I had loved her for a long time and I did not know what to do about it.

“He may be irreverent toward all of us, save for you. I think he desires to worship you.”