Ayear. And yes. Fewer words were better where Cordelia was concerned. It hurt less.
Stormy eyes perused her. That they looked glassy and hopeful must’ve been a trick of the light. “Don’t you remember this wasn’t here before?” She grabbed Lunara’s hand in hers,twisting her palm up and running a finger along that one strange freckle on the inside of her wrist.
The one Brand had been so drawn to the day they’d formally met, his thumb passing back and forth over the spot and making her shiver. The one he’d kissed so many times since then.
She had to fight not to snatch away from Cordelia’s touch. “That’s always been there,” she argued, hardly able to understand how she’d gotten here. How she was even having this conversation.
“No.” Cordelia dropped her hand, her eyes closing. “I remember the shock of seeing it there like it was yesterday, your arm raised to hold the door open when you finally let me in the first time—years afterhewas already dead—glaring like a beacon. The mark of a Keeper.”
Her voice was hardly audible, but Lunara still jolted and looked around to see if anyone had heard. She was here to claim the stone and its power, not announce herself.
The second the terror wore off, Cordelia’s words sank in. “You knew?”
Lunara examined the oblong spot, mind racing, only just realizing the fleck looked alarmingly similar to a large teardrop.
“I did, and I’ve never breathed a word. I had my reasons. And before that, I knew you were special. Different, in all the ways that mattered.” Cordelia stepped closer and reached up to cup Lunara’s cheek. “Araxis has told me everything. I’m here to help.”
They shouldn’t be having this conversation, not where anyone might hear, but she couldn’t bring herself to break away. To detach herself from a moment that felt a whole lot like she was healing from something.
String music started up and floated on the air from somewhere nearby as Vann, Amal, and Amunkar finally joined them. The crowd swelled as more and more people poured infrom the portal, making their way to dinner or the theater. Some headed towards it, jumping right through or stopping at one of the many stalls selling tolls.
No matter which direction they were going, nearly all of them took a stumbling moment to gape at her companions.
“We have to move,” she said, nodding at Cordelia. “If you’re here to help, then you know I can’t be found out. Not yet. I have to take it and go.”
Cordelia gave her a pat, tucking her hair away. “We’ll figure out the rest later, as we always have.”
Swallowing, Lunara picked her way through the surging mass, leading the others past countless Nachthellians in their finest robes or glittering dresses. When she reached the central fountain—a grotesque thing depicting the Star Goddesses on their weeping deathbed as it rose up—she climbed the steps to its rounded oasis. There were far less people milling around the marble monstrosity, and it would be easier for them to talk.
Conversations over wine and under the stars filtered up to her from the outdoor restaurants, rife with tittered laughter and vapid murmurings. The sound of it made her skin crawl.
Lunara could probably throw a stone and hit her childhood home from here. Or, the rebuilt tower that’d replaced it.
Thad plopped down onto the fountain’s edge with a contented sigh. Unbeknownst to anyone but Lunara, Fern hopped up too and crouched beside him, a thoughtful look on her face as she beheld the young wolflord.
“I fucking love Starkeep,” Thad said, splashing the water and wholly unaware that a Fae was only inches away from his own face.
“Makes one of us,” Lunara mumbled, crossing her arms.
Thad gasped dramatically. “How could you not?” he demanded, incredulous. “No matter what time it is, there’s thatevening promise in the air. A dark frivolity, waiting at the edges to snatch you up and carry you away. It’s perfect.”
“It’s wretched,” she countered. “And weren’t you forbidden from being here?”
He waved her jab away. “I left a note. Besides, Da’s so overwhelmed with everything, he’ll never even notice I’m gone.”
Thad held Fern’s attention for about ten seconds before she stood and began pacing, dipping her booted toe into the fountain and glancing up at Magnus every so often.
“We need a plan.”
“No need. No one of note is in there tonight.”
“What?” Lunara narrowed her eyes on Cordelia. “Why?”
Her look was impish. “Someone may have told the Council that the Keeper has been found. They’re all at a party celebrating the young male before he receives the Tear Stone tomorrow morning. And because they’re desperate, no one has thought to check that the mark on his arm is real.” Her wink was wicked, and Lunara had the insane urge to laugh.
It can’t possibly be that easy. Why is she suddenly helping? How do you know it isn’t a trick to capture you?
She didn’t, but there was something in Cordelia’s face that drew her in. A mix of sorrow and love and regret that—paired with the twinge in Lunara’s gut—said she could be trusted.
