The burning and glowing only seemed to happen the first time a Guardian came in contact with her, that had been Mercurial’s explanation. But I still didn’t fully trust him, didn’t trust that he’d told us everything we needed to know. Because it didn’t just glow the first time she came in contact with me. The light shone from her heart again the first time we’d had sex. I thought it was because of how close we were, how intimate. That had been well over a week ago. The two other times we’d been together in that way, again that same night in the spring, and then here in this cave a few nights ago, it hadn’t happened.
Pulling her tunic down, I drew my cloak and blankets back to her shoulders, anxiously pushing her hair off her forehead. She looked … Fuck. She looked like she’d had a vision. But Lyr wasn’t—couldn’tbe vorakh.
Gods. Please, no. Not her.
Meera returned, a small damp towel in her hands, her face contorted with worry. She sat on the other side of the bed and gently dabbed at her sister’s face, wiping away the blood. Studying her closer, I realized Meera also had a bloodied nose.
“What the hell happened?” I asked, opening my belt for sunleaves.
“I don’t know,” Meera said. “I was having a … a vision. And then suddenly, I wasn’t. It was like—” She made a sharp noise. “Like Lyr took it from me.”
I blinked. “Lyr took it from you? It looks like she just had one, too.”
Meera turned over the towel, and continued to wash the blood from Lyr with the clean side.
“Not exactly. She did have a vision,” Meera said, and seeing the look on my face, added, “But …” She took a deep breath, her eyes moving anxiously back and forth. “This is going to sound farther than Lethea, so you have to hear me out. It was my first thought, too. But I don’t believe she has a vorakh.”
But all of her sisters had one, even Jules. It made sense that Lyr would too.
Fuck. Gods, I didn’t want this for her. She had enough to deal with. She didn’t need this. Everyone I knew, everyone I’d cared about who had a vorakh, had suffered so much because of it. I couldn’t bear it for Lyr to suffer, too.
But then Meera’s words sank in. “What do you mean? What makes you think she doesn’t?”
“Because it was mine.Iwas having a vision. At least, I’d started to. This was unlike any of the others I’ve experienced.” Meera swallowed roughly, putting the towel aside, her eyes anxiously running over Lyr. “Whenever it happens to me, whenever I’m having one—” She bit her lip, shifting her body uncomfortably.
“What? What happens?” I prodded.
Meera took a deep breath. “When I’m having a vision, I lose track of my surroundings, and all sense of time. I can’t tell how long a vision lasts. Ever. To me they always feel like hours. But most of them are barely a few minutes long.”
I nodded, somewhat aware of this. Lyr had spent the last few years dutifully recording every vision Meera had.
“Okay,” I said slowly, absorbing her words. “So this one didn’t feel like hours?”
“No,” Meera said, her voice hard. “This one felt like actual seconds. I felt the cold wash over me like always. I stopped being able to see the cave, or hear Lyr’s voice, all the usual symptoms. And then I was in it,” she shrugged, “in an arena. The Emperor’s sigil was everywhere. And then it was over. I woke up to Lyr on top of me. And then she wasn’t. Some force pushed her back. I went to her, and her body was cold, her eyes,” she shook her head, “she couldn’t see me.Shewas havinga vision. There’s no doubt about it.”
“So she has vorakh,” I said defeated.
“No. I don’t think she does. Because, I felt warm the second my vision stopped.”
I frowned. “Because it ended?”
“No,” Meera said. “Gods. I’m not explaining this well. See, I’m never warm after a vision ends. The way Lyr feels now? That’s how I feel for hours every time it happens. It’s only been minutes. My body temperature is already back to normal.”
I sighed. “Maybe because your vision was so short this time?”
“No.” Meera gently touched Lyr’s arm, the place beneath her sleeve where she currently wore the arm cuff hiding the time logs. “It doesn’t matter how brief they are. The cold remains the same. Every single time.” Her eyes met mine, imploring. “Except this time.”
I frowned. Her logic made sense, at least, I wanted it to, but yet, I’d never seen anything like this before. It didn’t feel like we had enough information to dismiss the idea that Lyr was vorakh. “You revealed your vorakh at the Revelation Ceremony?” I asked.
“Yes. And so did Jules,” she said uneasily. “And Morgs. Didn’t you?”
My jaw clenched. My father had secretly removed my Birth Bind months before the official Revelation Ceremony. But the vorakh was there, ready and bursting to be expressed the moment I was free. I absolutely did not want to get into the story with Meera, but I nodded. “I was there when Lyr claimed her magic. There was no vorakh then, but—I don’t know. It wasn’t a regular revelation. She had some memories of being …” I pressed my lips together, unable to finish.
My chest ached. Ever since I remembered that I was Auriel, I couldn’t say “Asherah” the same way that I had for my entire life. Because it wasn’t just a name anymore to me. Her name felt likemore. Underneath all the love I had for Lyr was all the love I’d had for Asherah, the love I had for her before she was Lyriana. I could feel it now, pulsing in my heart. Layers of love, and longing, and heartbreak. Lifetimes of falling in love with her soul again and again, meeting her for the first time, and recognizing her.Knowingher. I didn’t remember the other lives yet, but I could feel them, feel their pulse running like an undercurrent through my veins, connecting us.
My heart was nearly bursting with it all.
I cleared my throat. “The night she claimed her power, she remembered being Asherah,” I said. “But it wasn’t a vision. It was a memory. Still, that doesn’t mean she doesn’t have a vorakh.”
