She closed her eyes and saw the inhumanly blank expressions on those strangers’ faces as they’d acted on her orders. Her initial pride at mastering Gael’s magic felt sickening now. She was meant to use these powers against dragons, to save her sister, to save Gael. Instead, she had wielded them against her own people.
It had been in self-defense. They’d been about to kill Reeve. She’d saved his life. Those words felt like excuses, likelies. She’d loved the power. She’d reveled in it. And she had no idea what that said about her.
“Is he going to be okay?” Elara had asked during their astral call last night. Even through her own exhaustion and fear, Faron could tell that her sister was tired. The kind of tired that weighed on the mind rather than the body. But both times Faron had asked if she was all right, Elara had insisted she was just busy. She hadn’t specified with what. “Maybe if you use his dragon relic—”
“Maybe if Iwhat?” Faron had responded, baffled. “Why would I touch that disgusting thing when the medical summoner is already hard at work?”
Elara had been quiet for a moment before clearing her throat. “You’re right. Sorry. I just… It kills me that there’s nothing we can do.”
“You can stay safe. When he wakes up—and hewill—he’ll want to know that you’re okay.”
There had been another pause, interrupted only by the crackle of burning wood. Then Elara had sighed. “I miss you.”
“I miss you more.” Faron’s loneliness had felt like a snake, coiling around her heart and squeezing. “I’m sorry it’s taking so long. I’m sorry I can’t get more out of Gael or the gods. I’m sorry I can’t—”
“You don’t need to apologize for anything,” Elara had said firmly. “You’re doing your best, and so am I. That’s all we can do: stay safe, do our best, and hope that we see each other again.”
With Reeve injured, her magic tainted, and Elara an ocean away, Faron had felt short on hope then. But, as always, talking to her sister made her feel at least a little better.
Now she made sure to pay the medical summoner handsomely with the rayes that the queen had given her. Because Reeve wasn’t just awake. He was, in fact, standing in front of his wardrobe and trading his bloody shirt for a new one when Faron slipped into his room. She watched him in silence, appreciating the way it was impossible to tell that he’d ever been hurt, from the color back in his cheeks to the toned line of his stomach to the rippling muscles in his back to the soft curve of his jaw and the swell of his arms.…
“Say something. This is starting to get creepy,” Reeve said, tugging on a light blue cotton shirt. All those muscles disappeared, forcing Faron to realize that she’d been intently focused on his biceps.
Her face burned. “I just—came to make sure you were alive.”
“I’m alive.” Reeve’s smile had a shy edge as he rubbed the back of his neck, where his chestnut hair had grown long enough to curl over his fingers. “What happened?”
“You, um. You don’t remember?”
Reeve crossed the room to pull the sweaty sheets he’d been wrapped in off the bed. He paused with his fingers curled into thefabric. “It’s funny. I used to spend so much time in bed when I was a kid. I had no resistance to anything. If the wind blew, I got sick. My parents sent me to every medic, but everyone was convinced I’d die before I turned twenty.” She saw him attempt another smile, but there was no joy in this smile. It was as empty as his eyes as he tumbled into his memories, memories he was finally sharing with her. “Because I was always so sick, they sheltered me. You know I had no idea there was even a war going on when we moved here? That’s how ignorant I was.”
“You were just a kid. We were all just kids back then,” Faron said, taking two uncertain steps forward. She was unsure of her welcome, so she didn’t get too close, but she wanted him to know that she was here. “Reeve, you can’t blame yourself for—”
“I’ve done everything I can to make up for that ignorance,” he continued as if she hadn’t spoken. “I read everything I can get my hands on—newspapers, books, journals. I try to stay informed and mind the harm I’m causing, intentionally or otherwise. But since we’ve been in Seaview, it feels as if I’ve been losing myself a little. And I have no idea what happened last night. I’ve never seenanythinglike that before.” Reeve dragged the sheets off the bed at last, rolling them up in his hands without looking at her. “Faron, what did youdo?”
Her hands twisted together as she tried to figure out what to say. How to explain. “They were going to kill you. I just—I wanted to help.”
Reeve tossed the sheets into the basket by his wardrobe. “That wasn’t Empyrean magic.”
“No.…”
“Is that what the Gray Saint has been teaching you?”
“You know his name is Gael. I—I haven’t just been using him for information. He’s been teaching me a different kind of magic, the kind of magic that will help me save Elara. And I didn’t know that I could use it on humans until I did it, and I’m not sorry, because they could havekilledyou. I couldn’t let that happen! What wouldyouhave done?”
In the silence that followed, Faron realized she was breathing hard. She couldn’t read the expression on Reeve’s face. It was that stupid, assessing look she had always hated, as if he were studying her soul, but his conclusions were for him alone. Faron had always assumed that he was finding her lacking, but now… Now she had no idea.
“What would you have done?” she repeated weakly.
Reeve glanced off to the side, a thoughtful furrow appearing between his eyebrows. “I’ve always believed that what we know isn’t as important as how we choose to act on it. You’ve done so much good for the world, Faron.So much.You’ve also made a lot of mistakes. If you’re asking me which one last night was…”
Faron leaned forward slightly, hanging on his words, hungry for his opinion. With her crimes laid bare next to her virtues, Reeve was the only one who could cast judgment right now, and she was surprised to find that she actually cared what he thought.
But all he did was shrug. “I can’t answer that for you. I’m sorry, but I can’t. And I’m hungry. Do you know what time it is?”
Faron was rooted to the spot as he moved past her to the door, still waiting for something that would clearly never come. By the time she got her heavy tongue to move, he was gone, and she was left alone in a room that smelled of blood and sea salt.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
