Did you see the Etherlight, too?The question burns my tongue, but I can’t bring myself to ask. Drawing attention to it would expose that something about me is different, which could be explained away as me being Valor Reborn. But, in here, it could also be something that’s used against me as an indication of the curse.
It’s not a risk I can take, especially not with him. Lucan continues staring at me. I hold his gaze, breathless, determined not to be the first to speak. The gold flecks are still there in his eyes, and they’ve never looked more beautiful.
“You can let go of me now.” His voice is barely above a whisper, but it doesn’t lose its playful edge.
I hadn’t realized how tightly I was gripping his fingers. I quickly retract my hand, and all my thoughts slam back into my skull at the same time.
“You used a sigil,” I say as understanding dawns.
“I think the words you were looking for are, ‘Thank you.’” He smirks slightly.Smirks!Lucan, of all people, Mister Stoic-beyond-reason-and-impossible-to-read-or-scowling-at-best, issmirkingat me.
I ignore the remark. “You’re not gilded. People who have enough of a connection to Etherlight that they can use sigils without the gilding are…”
“Veryrare,” he finishes when awe silences me.
I’m not alone. It’s the first thought that crosses my mind. It’s not at the level of “Valor Reborn,” but he also has something that makes him very special. Something that the vicar no doubt has wanted to keep for himself ever since he found out Lucan has this skill. Maybe he knew when he declared Lucan his son. Like he’s some kind of disgusting collector of particularly gifted individuals.
Just like Saipha said, he’s useful. I force the thought to thefront of my brain, replacing the other. But all my heart wants is to pull him closer and talk about…everything. How does Etherlight feel for him? When did he find out and how? What other sigils does he know, if any?
“You were right. I did go back to the atrium two nights ago, but only to get this sigil.” He tugs at the lacings of his jerkin and then pulls it and the loose collar of his shirt aside, exposing the top of his chest. I fight a flush that instantly rises to my cheeks at the sight of his collarbone and instead focus on the thick, black line that’s been stained onto his skin like a tea ring from a mug—it’s the start of an artificer frame. “I thought it’d be helpful for us.”
“Us?”
“Consider this my application.” He releases his shirt, and I hate how much I resent the fabric falling back into place.
“For what?”
“To be your ally in the Tribunal.” Perhaps it’s the lingering Etherlight, but his eyes still shine with flecks of gold, like an unintentional gilding.
“You want to be my ally when you’re keeping secrets from me left and right?” I narrow my eyes, and he has the audacity to seem amused by my annoyance.
“We all have things to hide, don’t we?” He gives me a pointed look, expectant. There’s no way he could be referencing my fears about being cursed, yet it feels like he is. I look away.
“And, to think, four days ago I thought you hated me.” I tease a hand through my curls, not sure if I’m more annoyedathim or at my reactiontohim.
“Never hate, Isola.” His gaze softens, though I can’t say why. Something stirs in his expression, like admiration.
I place both hands on the bench, lean forward, and look him dead in the eyes. Trying to see through to all the things he’s not saying. “You’ve never made an effort to endear yourself to me.”
“Are youstillon about your mum’s birthday?” He sighs.
“More than that.”
“It’s not like the vicar would just let me casually spend time with his Valor Reborn when you were in the chapel.”
“You could’ve found me outside the chapel.”
“Would you have let me?” he asks as if he’s thought it through countless times. “Be honest. Could I have walked up to you and asked you to spend an evening with me and you’d say yes?”
I fold my arms as I think about just how intently I’d been avoiding him specifically when I ditched my training. “Well, you weren’t exactlyniceto me that first night here.”
“We were literally being attacked, and you were doing your best statue impression.” Lucan shakes his head and returns his attention to me. “If I didn’t like you, why would I go out of my way to patch you up then or help you now?”
“You did it to get something out of it,” I point out.
He laughs, and the sound nearly makes me jump as it echoes off the floor and ceiling. “You are an astoundingly stubborn person.” It reminds me of what he said the first night, and I realize what almost stuck out to me then—he says it as if it’s a compliment.
“Teach me the rest of the sigils that were in the dragons, and I’ll consider this whole ‘allies’ thing.”
