“Because my people need to see that you aren’t a threat. They need to look at you with their own eyes in an environment not controlled by the king. My word, as much as they all trust it, will only get them so far. But beyond that, you need to be there when we finalize our plans.”
“Plans? Plans for what?”
“Your escape.”
I fight back a chagrinned look as I lean back in Alexi’s chair. “How, Xander? With the ring on my finger, I don’t think Icanescape.”
“Let’s leave the details for when you meet the people who will be helping.”
I laugh around a frustrated breath. “I’m not sure I hold the same conviction you do.”
He shrugs before standing, taking a step towards me as he once again extends his hand out for mine. “I don’t blame you for having a healthy dose of skepticism, but I trust you enough to expose everything I’ve spent my life working towards.” He swallows roughly. “Can you trust me to help you?”
I look out to the balcony, noticing the way the clouds from the previous storm have parted and now reveal a night sparkling with stars. And though the weight of everything I have done and seen and learned feels impossible to bear, when Xander softly says my name again, wiggling his fingers to get my attention, I decide that in this moment, I can make another choice. That perhaps his timing had been more than luck. He and I have the kind of history that isn’t so easily forgotten, but I have seen him try his best to help me. I do trusthim, even if I doubt that he can actually help me escape.
I stand and slip my hands into his, our handshake tentative when something he said earlier snags my attention. “What did you mean when you said you explained to Siyala who the king is to you?”
He sighs again, dropping my hand to rub at the back of his neck. “In the spirit of honesty, there’s probablyonemore thing you should know about me.”
My eyes narrow, arms crossing over my chest. “And what is that?”
“King Dolian is my father.”
Chapter Ninety-Six: Aria
Lore’sattackhadlefta fairly deep gash on my arm, one that required Lyre’s assistance to wrap as the injury worked to heal itself. Visiting her early this morning before I depart for my meeting with Myla, she keeps her lips pinched in a tight line as she tends to me. She had already asked me several times who was responsible for the attack, and I had managed to dodge the question, much to her frustration. Worry shines bright in her lavender eyes as she ties off the gauze and then draws me in for a hug.
“Be careful,” she whispers.
“I will.”
Her words haunt me the entire swim out of Lumen. As does the memory of the fight with Lore.
My fingers trail along the faint bruise that remains on my jaw as I exit the water beneath the cover of the cavern. I had relished in the idea that I actually overpowered her, but with every day that has passed, I can’t help but wonder if all I’d done was prolong the inevitable instead. If my victory was less about me fighting back and more about Lore choosing not to continue pursuing me. A shiver works over me as I walk through the soft sand, water dripping from my curls and down my hips making goosebumps lift on my skin.
I search the sky above through the holes in the rock, listening for the sound of leathery wings. It’s a habit now to check after our run-in with the dragon and its rider. Climbing the large rocks that lead to the platform, my stomach dips when I find Myla already waiting. She leans against one of the side walls, one foot crossed over the other as she twirls a small dagger in her hand.
“Hello.” I turn so that my injured arm is hidden from her view by my hair, carefully taking my bag off and setting it on the ground.
“Your tunic is over there.” She points to the opposite corner, where a cream top is laying over a large rock.
She remains silent as I slip the tunic over me, her gaze appearing lost in thought when I turn back to face her. The rhythmic flipping of her dagger is smooth and practiced, and as she stares at an indistinct point to my left, I let myself study her. Just like every time I lay eyes on her, I can’t help but marvel at the long elegant lines of her face. From her slightly pointed chin to the gentle arch of her ears, everything about her is perfectly placed. As if carved from the smoothest marble by the mosttalented hand. Those long lines continue down her body, the tight fit of her clothing betraying her strength.
“It’s rude to stare,” she says, her voice flat as she slides the blade back into its sheath at her ribs.
Heat creeps up my neck to my cheeks, but I clear my throat and ask, “What are we working on today?”
Myla tilts her head, still avoiding looking at me. “We’ll continue practicing different methods of attack, both with and without the dagger you call yours.”
“Because it is mine,” I counter, taking a step towards her. A stream of sunlight from one of the cracks above cascades over Myla, highlighting her high cheekbones and slender nose. It makes the shadows beneath her eyes stand out in contrast. Had I ever seen Myla anything other than angry? Frustrated? Exhaustion never crossed my mind as something shecouldfeel, yet the more I look at her, the more she seems as if she could plop down at any moment and fall asleep.
Her eyes flick to me then, and I mentally double check that I didn’t sayanyof those thoughts out loud.
“It belongs to my father.”
“So you say.” In truth, I don’t believe Myla to be lying about that. Her reaction to the dagger had been swift, hard to fake if she didn’t actually care. But if Myla has taught me anything in our lessons, it’s that pitying her would be a mistake and showing weakness would be even worse. She may want that dagger, but she will honor the fact that I took it from her fairly because anything else will make her lookweak.
“Start warming up.” The command is given in her usual curtness, but I don’t find it as cold as I once did. There is a strange sort of comfort in these meetings between us. I am holding on to so many secrets below the surface of the water, it is…niceto know that where Myla is concerned, ire will always be close at hand.
