[This post is from Hecate’s point of view.]
Matt was silent for a few seconds before he sighed again. “How can you be so sure?”
“I’m old,” she said, her tone teasing and light in ways that she never could have managed before she’d found him again. “You learn things when you get this old.”
He looked back over his shoulder toward her, smiling faintly. “Is that so?”
“It is.” She leaned in to kiss him gently, arm tightening around him. “You need to have more faith, Matt. I know today’s been rougher than most.”
His gaze drifted away, back to the burial grounds. “And I’ve just telegraphed that to everyone by coming out here, haven’t I?”
“Maybe a little,” Hecate admitted. “But the people who know more understand.”
His head dipped. “Why did they put me in charge?”
“We’ve been over this.”
“I know. I know.” He straightened, bracing his hands against the top rail of the fence. “Doesn’t mean that I like it any more or any less. I just—why didn’t they at least give me a choice?”
“Because there wasn’t a choice, Matt. It was always going to be you. No matter what, it was going to be you.”
