Deidre felt the heaviness in the air again, only she felt no confusion.

"Hello, darling," Wynn said as he entered the kitchen.

Deidre felt herself relaxing around him. She kissed him on both cheeks then waited as he poured himself wine. He'd lied to her to get her to take him to the Immortals, but she still felt safer with him than anyone else. He'd had a million chances to harm her while she lay unconscious and vulnerable on the operating table and never did.

Whatever it was they wanted him to tell her, it couldn't be that bad.

"I figured they'd killed you," she said.

"Not yet. It's likely not too far down the road." He swirled his wine as he leaned against the counter opposite her. "You look well. Very cute clothing."

"Thanks. Today was a good day," she said firmly. "Until about an hour ago. Every time Immortals show up, things go right down the shitter."

He smiled. "Yes, well, I won't be breaking that mold."

"It can't be that bad," she replied. "We've been friends for years, and you've been enamored by me for what? Two lifetimes at least?"

"I think you know by now that even those who loved past-Deidre also hated her," he said. "Her affect on those around her was the opposite of yours. She brought nothing but terror. You bring a smile to people's faces."

"That's sweet of you, Wynn."

"Yes and no. I didn't know that when I met you this time around. I thought you were the same person as past-Deidre," he started.

She listened, dread fluttering through her, and sipped her wine.

"It influenced how I handled your illness."

"So, what? You didn't try as hard to cure me?" she asked, perplexed.

"I went several steps farther. The experimental surgeries I performed the first six months were not geared towards curing you at all."

Her heart felt like it was slowing. Rationalizing that he was upset at past-Deidre like everyone else was, she wanted to stop Wynn before he said something worse. Something she wasn't able to live with.

"I am the brilliant surgeon you believe me to be," he said. "Partially due to my magic. The power of an Ancient is beyond anything humans can understand. With a penchant for medicine and science and my magic, I can cure what others could not."

"Except for me," she said.

"Including you," he said slowly. His gaze was steady as he spoke. "On my first surgery, I discovered what exactly was in your head. There's a soul encased in a tumor."

"My soul?" she gasped.

"No. I don't know whose it is. I didn't need to know," he said too casually. "I was trying to figure out what was there, not to remove it, but to ensure no one else could either. Deidre," he paused. "Your tumor was operable when I met you and for the entirety of first year. I told you the opposite from the onset and convinced you to let me conduct experimental surgeries."




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