Lyra
Ican’t hear the screaming from up here.
But the telltale glinting in the distance tells me enough as I peer between the wooden slats. The morning sun threatens to burn my skin even through the small gap before I draw mycalantica forward, shading my face from the uncomfortable heat.
For whoever is out there, it will be a hundred, if not a thousand times worse, helped along by the razor-sharp glass shards dotting the peaks that focus the rays of the four Solvandyr suns into lethal points.
There’s no shade to be found from the sun on the Glass Dunes.
I remember.
The shimmering flashes in the distance are beautiful. Or they would be if each one didn’t represent a traitor, screaming and burning beneath the sun’s punishment.
My lips press together as the flashes dim, muted by the gossamer white fabric that now covers my face.
They deserved it.
Whoever they are, they must have deserved it. But I look out toward the Dunes once more anyway, offering a moment of silence for the damned souls now strapped to its mounds.
And perhaps a moment for myself.
“Lyra.”
My back stiffens, but I’ve already been caught. Pulling back, I close the shutters that shade the small room and twist, my body fluid as it settles into an inspection stance.
Feet shoulder-width apart. Shoulders back. Torso straight. Chin and gaze lowered.
Deference, not defiance.
It’s a pose as familiar as it is formal. “I apologize, Lieutenant.”
My commanding officer, or as close to it to make it count, sighs. “There’s no need to be so formal. I’m alone.”
Beneath my calantica, my eyes flicker to the door. “With respect, there’s every need.”
Reena steps forward and tugs off my veil, leaving it loose around my neck. “Let’s not go through this again. Not with me. And not today. Will you at least look at me?”
I keep my position but let my eyes lift. Reena presses her lips together as she scans me. “He told me you’re leaving tomorrow.”
Tomorrow?
My silence stretches out, and Reena’s lips thin even further. Her face is expressionless, but her mouth never lies. “He didn’t tell you.”
Not a question. My eyes shift to the door once more. “A soldier doesn’t need to explain to his sword.”
Reena inhales. “You’re starting to sound just like him. You’re more than just his sword, Ly.”
No, I am not.
Not to anybody. Except, perhaps, to her.
That’s a nice thought. That when I’m gone, somebody will remember me. That she might offer up her own moment of silence one day, just as I did for the Solvandyr traitors. That I might continue to occasionally exist in the corners of her mind as she goes about her life.
“Lyra,” my sister whispers. “I don’t want you to go.”
I shake my head, force out words against the tightness constricting my throat. “Don’t. This was always the plan.”
“I could speak to him again—”
