Silent, I settle onto the top of my bed, my back resting against the carved headboard as I hold her against me as she asked. “Like this?”
“Yes.” Her eyes open. She doesn’t look up, her eyes staring straight ahead. “Just for a minute. If you don’t mind.”
“For as long as you need me to.” I’m acutely aware of how carefully I’m touching her, like any wrong pressure might break her entirely. But she’s far, far stronger than she looks.
The knowledge hits me like a physical blow. Whatever it cost her, whatever she burned out of herself to make it happen, shehealed Sera completely. My lips find her hair. It’s finer than mine. Infinitely softer.
She’s asking me for comfort. I’m not the best to give it. Eres would be better, but he’s not here. “You shouldn’t have pushed yourself that far,” I say quietly.
It’s not a reprimand. I don’t think I’m capable of sounding angry at her right now. All I feel is a tight, aching fear coiled in my chest.
“She needed it,” Lyra whispers. Her voice is barely there.
“I know.” I adjust my grip without thinking, pulling her a fraction closer, my chin resting lightly against the crown of her head. “But not at the cost of your own life."
She goes very still. Several minutes pass before she speaks again, and I wait to see what’s causing the tension in her body. “Kaelen?”
I brace myself. “I’m here.”
“There’s… more.” The words settle between us, heavy and inevitable. I hold her and wait, listening to her breathing. A faint tremor runs through her body. She looks up as I reach for a crumpled woven blanket, pulling it over her. “What are you doing?”
“You looked cold. More than what?” The words are gentle. Gentler than I thought I had in me, truth be told.
A Lightbringer. Vaelion’s daughter. The possibilities are endless.
“More than what I’ve told you.” She looks at me without fear. “I thought I could keep it to myself. That it didn’t even matter, but I don’t want to lie anymore.”
My grip tightens before I can stop it. “And now?”
“Things are different now,” she whispers.
“Because of what happened with Sera?”
She shakes her head. And then nods. “Maybe. When I came here…I thought it would be like Solvandyr.”
Every part of me revolts at that thought. “I’m glad that we’re not.”
“I am, too.” She sighs. “I like it here.”
Frowning, I rest my head back. “We haven’t been particularly kind to you.”
There’s almost a smile. But it’s fleeting. “I wouldn’t be too harsh on yourself. You could multiply what has happened to me here by thousands, Duskbane. It still wouldn’t come close to what I experienced before.”
I despise knowing that. “That doesn’t make it right.”
“No.” Her silence extends as seconds pass. “I think I know that now.”
When she shifts, I keep my hands on her, steadying her. Lyra curls herself into me, putting her back to the room so she can see my face. “I need to share something with you. There are things that you don’t know.”
Something in my chest twists painfully. I tilt my head, lowering my voice further. “Witch. You don’t owe me anything. If it doesn’t affect Solvandyr, I don’t want you to tell me things you’re not ready to share.”
“I know.” She lifts her head, and I meet her gaze. Her eyes are glassy with exhaustion, luminous even in their dimness. “But I think it does.”
I nod slowly. Unease stirs in my gut at what she might be about to share. “Then talk to me.”
Perhaps I’m finally ready to listen, in a way I wouldn’t have before.
“I was born for a prophecy.” She clears her throat. “Twenty-six years ago, the High Solar of Solvandyr predicted that my birth would eventually end the war. My father… he arranged for it. I was born nine months after you, and my mother gave me over to him.”
