Lunara fucking hated it here.
“This is your home?”
Lunara threw a glance over her shoulder to check the progress of their companions. Brand’s brothers had insisted on coming. On being here for her when he couldn’t. It was enough to bring her to her knees, going from no one to the entire Imperial Family calling her their own.
Are you sure you should trust it? Are you sure that it’s true?
She wasn’t. Not yet. Not… quite.
Magnus and Thaddeus were a few yards back, dodging the crowd that was ever near the Upper Portal, Araxis just behind. Vann came through next, followed by Amal. Theajmadarted her keen eyes over everything, spear at the ready as Amunkar entered behind her.
All far enough away that they shouldn’t be able to witness her seemingly speaking to no one.
“You don’t have to whisper, Fern,” she said out of the corner of her mouth. “I’m the only one who can see and hear you. Just stay close and try not to run into anyone. And no, this is not my home. Not anymore.”
Home was smiling hazel eyes and fiery hair. Home was the way he said her name and stole her breath. Home was missing.
Gone. Gone. Gone.
As far as anyone knew, Lunara had put Fern back into a deep sleep to help her mind heal, and had been left behind on her stone pallet. With any luck, the spell she’d set on the Fae’s room might help them identify the one who’d harmed her. Who’d massacred an entire village and lured them to the aftermath. Who’d probably helped to steal Brand.
She wanted to see their likeness so she could ruin them.
Magnus reached her side, eyes dancing over the space around her. “All is well, witchling?”
He was the only one who knew what she’d done with Fern. He’d howled with laughter when she’d told him about her antics at that first dinner, and later with Brand at the Occurrence. A relief, to see him mischievous again, if only briefly.
One of them needed to smile, and she didn’t have it in her.
He’d supported her plan wholeheartedly, but they’d both been worried the spell might break through the portal crossing. Hence the anxious look in his eyes.
“Perfect.” She nodded her head towards Fern to show him where she was.
His shoulders slumped. “Thank the Sisters.”
“I really wish he’d tell me who the fuck he’s always talking to,” Fern muttered, her brown eyes focused intently on Magnus. “It’s irritating to hear only one side of a conversation, especially when it’s about me half the pissing time.”
Lunara had no idea what she was talking about. “What do you mean?”
Fern blinked at her for a second before sighing. “Please tell me I’m not the only one hearing a disembodied voice whenever his arse is around.”
No way.
Before she could respond and find out whether that voice was the same as her own, a crotchety grumble reached her ears.
“I was sure you’d be halfway up the spire by now, Moonweaver.”
Lunara’s heart stopped and thudded over, galloping when it resumed its beating. Seeing her would make it real. Would make it so there was no going back.
She turned and found Cordelia, of all people, holding fast to Araxis as they approached, her arm looped through his. Her hair, pure and white as starlight, was braided into a thick rope over her shoulder. She was mindlessly running her fingers down the plait as if it were some kind of pet, and Lunara had the sudden, disjointed thought that perhaps Cordelia was where she’d picked up the habit of twisting her own curls.
“I’m told you’ve come to claim your rightful place.” She stopped in front of Lunara, a head shorter, and peered up. “Good. About time.”
So few words, and yet there was so fucking much to unpack from them.
“About time?”
Oh, sure. You’ve not seen her in years, and that’s what you lead with?
