“What are you getting at, witchling?”
They deserved to know. To share in the thrill of success.
“I didn’t mention it last night, for obvious reasons. And it isn’t done, not fully, but…” She chewed the inside of her cheek, heart pounding. “I did it.”
Just a little. Just enough to see a pinprick of light in Fern’s mind. To feel the absoluteforceof her on the other side, chomping to be freed.
“I broke through.”
“I can’t.What if this is a mistake? What… what if…”
Lunara backed away from the gown being presented to her, wrapped in nothing but a blanket.
Nyri groaned to the rafters for the tenth time. “You can, and you will.” Her face twisted, a mix of boredom and annoyance. “You’re going. It’s what you really want. You love him. He loves you. Everything else is details. You’re not a monster. You’re not a chaotic evil. You wouldn’t even kill that weird bug in the window earlier!”
“It was amoth,and it was beautiful. Why would I kill it?”
“Do you even hear yourself? Burning Solyrian, when did you get so dense!” Nyri’s mouth turned down, voice going lower as she tried—and failed—to mimic Lunara’s lilting accent.“Meh, look at me, I’m Lunara the Terrible—the foulest beast who ever lived. No! Don’t touch me, I’ll probably murder you! Oh, look! An ugly butterfly! I think I’ll name it and feed it and keep it forever as my precious little pet. Is Twila not the most stunning thing you’ve ever seen?!”
“I thought Twila was a good name for a moth.” Lunara crossed her arms, glancing away. “And I opened the window to set her free.”
It wasn’t at all symbolic.
She could practically feel her inner self rolling her eyes.
Nyri gaped, a disbelieving smile quirking at her lips. “Are you serious? Sisters save me. You’ve completely missed the point.”
She really hadn’t.
“This is the most ridiculous day of my entire life!” Nyri threw one hand up, the gown drooping in her other. “I’m going to say this nice and slow. Creatures… who namemoths…andset them free…are not bloody dangerous! Put on the damned dress, Lunara! Put Brand out of his misery! Put your own ruddy self out of your misery!All of us.Put all of us out of this misery!”
Ironically, Nyri was missing the point. “Are you done?”
“Not by a mile!” She began pacing, gesticulating wildly, and Lunara had to stifle a wince as the gown dragged along the floor. “I’ve dreamt every day about my mate…”
Sisters help her, but Lunara wasn’t listening anymore. She’d spent the day before and most of the night rolling it over and over in her mind. And when Nyri had bounded out of the bed in the wee hours, excited as anything, Lunara had been confident in her decision.
Refuse Illamiata. Go back to limiting her blood gifts and not filling the well. Run as fast as she could—towardsher mate.
For some stars-damned reason, seeing the dress was making her panic over an entirely new set of fears.
What if Brand resents you? What if this is too little, too late? What if?—
A knock sounded, and Nyri huffed her way over to the door, throwing it open. Lunara loosed a squeak when Magnus strolled in like he owned the place, wearing the most ostentatious robe she’d seen on him to date.
“Weeping arseholes, witchling. You’re meant to be ready!”
She ducked behind the wall dividing her and Fern’s rooms, peeking her head around the jamb. “I still need to get dressed.”
And do her hair. And dig around her things to find a cream or a pot of something that might make her look less like she hadn’t slept in a week.
And maybe puke.
Magnus plucked the gown from Nyri’s hold. “I know you want to go because you told me when I brought your supper last night. So, when I say you have to the count of three before I come over there and wrestle you into this confounded thing, consider yourself warned. One…”
“This is completely unnecessary.”
“Two…”
