I nodded.
“It’s okay,” she said.
“Why are you being so nice to me?” I asked.
“I’m not being nice.” I met her eyes.
She shrugged. “You told me once that you cared about me.”
Sniffling, I stood up. “I did.” My heart pounded. “And I do.”
“Well, same. Now come here. I’ll look after you tonight.”
Chapter
Twelve
LYRIANA
I sat beneath the full moon in an open clearing of the woods. The branches of silver moontrees reached for each other, as if they were holding hands. The full effect was a shimmering canopy above an empty stage.
I leaned back on my couch, getting comfortable, feeling the grass tickle my feet. Meera sat beside me, staring ahead.
“The show’s about to begin,” she said quietly. “Pay attention.”
“Oh.” I glanced around the forest. There were no other seats. No other indications that we were here for a performance. I shook my head, confused. “What are we watching?”
Meera rolled her eyes. “Come on, Lyr. It was your idea.”
“It was?” I asked. “I don’t remember.” Small lights twinkled within the leaves and branches. The kind we used for decoration at solstice. The kind that had sparkled the night Rhyan first kissed me.
Suddenly, gleaming blue lights flitted across the sky as ashvan ran on their hourly patrol.
I watched their progress, following them as they circled above. The clock tower hadn’t rung yet. “It’s too early to call the hour,” I said.
Meera shrugged. “It’s closer to the end than you think.”
“What?”
A beautiful mage wearing red robes stepped onto the stage, her long hair falling in thick waves down her back, the color a bright, fiery red. She smiled at the audience, then held her hands above her head in a grand gesture to signal the start of the show.
Meera clapped, then stilled, watching in silence.
A drum began to beat in the distance, and I wondered if the mage might dance. It had been so long since I’d seen a dance performance. Since I’d been in one. But the mage fell to her knees. For a moment she looked up at us, as if startled to see us there, then she threw her face into her hands, and began to sob.
“Lyr,” Morgana snapped. She took a seat at the edge of the couch beside Meera. “Gods. Move over.”
“Morgs?” I frowned, looking at the armrest my hand was already leaning on. I was pressed against the edge. Taking up as little space as I could. There was nowhere else for me to go.
“You need to make more room,” Morgana said, scooching back onto the couch. She fluffed out the skirts of her orange gown, then sat up straight, her body regal.
The mage performing continued to cry, her sobs wracking through her body. The sound began to echo through the forest, until it seemed as if her cries were coming from every direction.
“It’s still not enough room,” Morgana said. “Move! ”
“Morgs,” Meera chided, “she’s trying.”
“Myself to Moriel. Move faster. Father’s here.”
