It wasn’t meant as a compliment.
“Nay,” I said, carefully considering my words. Self-deprecation was just as uncomfortable, but necessary. It would leave me open, and raw. But I could not lose sight of the mission. Nothing mattered more now than Terran trusting me.
“I have but few of them. For instance… why did I—a Shadow Diplomat supposedly more highly trained in diplomacy and strategy than any Elydorian—allow my ‘enemy’ to tie my hands behind my back so easily?”
Terran’s expression changed.
The heaviness of our conversation lifted, his entire body relaxing. He was back in familiar territory. Standing, he took one, and then a second and third, step toward me. Leaning down, until his face was so close to my ear that I could feel its breath, he whispered, “You allowed it because you secretly—so secret, you haven’t admitted it to yourself—wish, just once, you could loosen the reins on your tightly held control. And you know I would love nothing more than to see that happen.Makeit happen. With me.”
My breath caught. If I turned toward him, our lips would touch. He continued to lean down to me, clearly letting me decide.
Every nerve ending in my body fired at the thought of letting him take control again.
How could I want something so badly I’d never considered, even once? How had Terran known before I did?
Before I could decide, he stood straight, looking down at me.
“Just once,” he said, “let it go.”
15
TERRAN
Before she could respond, I headed into the solar to prepare for our mission. If Lyra gave any hint that she would do as I asked, the Stone would remain precisely where it was this night.
I slipped on my leather boots, still seeing her face clearly in my mind. Hearing her intake of breath in my ears. Until now, I couldn’t be certain if her “interest” in me was part of her ploy.
She is a Shadow Diplomat.
Until I could talk to one of the Gyorian elders, or find a text that spoke of the supposed legends, I had to rely on my memory of how extensive Lyra’s training might have been. But what I was fairly certain of. She desired me as much as I did her.
And I desired Lyra very, very much.
Finished lacing, I sat. Attempted to clear my mind, as if such a thing were possible after this eve’s revelations. A memory that resurfaced about my father replayed itself.
“I heard him,” my brother had said, years ago. “Speaking to Valdric. Why would Father be using Drelshade?”
“He wouldn’t.”
Drelshade was outlawed in Gyoria. Its king would never access it, unless he wished to lose the faith of his people. A night-blooming vine native to the caverns beneath the palace, when distilled, its sap induced a dreamlike state. Given too much, it slowed time and perception, clouded memory, and left its recipient susceptible to suggestion. Like many of the skirmishes and battles throughout the years, Drelshade was the root of a war that led to its use being strictly forbidden, relegated to a category of similarly potent dark magic.
I might have dismissed my brother, not wanting to believe our father would use outlawed magic, but I’d done some digging, nonetheless. The moment Lyra told me Father had “somehow erased” the queen’s memory, Kael’s words from many years ago had slammed into my skull.
“We should hope he, of all people, does not,” Kael had said. “’Tis said when combined with the power of the Stone, the effects deepen into a less temporary suppression of memory.”
I had no doubt he’d used both to ensure the Queen of Aetheria never sought to return to Elydor. Which meant he realized returning, even after he closed the Gate, would be possible. Unless he did it to ensure she’d never return, even if his attempt to close it failed.
Either way, he had lied.
To me. To Kael. To his people.
“Are you ready?”
She stood at the entrance, all Aetherian warrior. Head high, wearing an expression of calm and determination, Lyra waited for my response.
Tell me. That you don’t just want to ensure Elydor’s balance returns. Tell me you want the Stone of Mor’Vallis for your king. For your friend, Mev. For the humans.
Say it.
