I had no intention of taking the crown. It was my father’s, earned by being the strongest land-wielder in Elydor. But the Stone… it belonged to Gyoria, even if Father was the only one who it responded to while he was king.
Stepping back and placing the crown on the floor, I placed both hands near it. When the floor hummed faintly, I pressed my palm over the Stone, feeling for the weave of my father’s warding spell. The metal of his crown warmed and then softened like clay.
I lifted the Stone free, but as expected, it didn’t respond to my power.
Standing and replacing the crown, I closed the lid and turned to Lyra.
“I’ve always known he closed the Gate, but for as many times as Kael and I asked Father to explain how he’d done it, precisely… I did not know he erased her memory. In her state, ’twas a cruelty.”
“Separating mothers from their children, stranding visitors in a realm they only even thought to visit, forcing them to make it their home… closing the Gate as he did? It was always a cruelty, Terran.”
They never belonged in Elydor.
It was a refrain Kael and I heard from him, one I repeated many times over the years. If not for the humans, my mother—the kindest, most gentle Gyorian who ever lived—would still be alive. Babes were a rarity in our immortal world. When she was blessed, a word our mother had used often, with twins, her “world had been complete.” Only to have been taken from her by a disease that didn’t belong in our realm.
“You pressed your palm to it,” Lyra said, ever-observant, nodding to the chest.
The fog of past thoughts lifted. We were not in the clear yet.
“Only those with royal blood running through their veins can open it.”
Her eyes widened. I was beginning to know her, understand Lyra’s way of thinking.
“You could never have retrieved it without me.”
“I’d not have tried.”
Like my father, Lyra blatantly lied.
“Aye,” I said, resigned. “You would have.”
The bigger question was, what would Lyra do now? I’d find out soon enough.
Slipping the Stone in the pouch I’d brought for this purpose, I took the torch from Lyra.
Noticing she did not refute my words, I led us back up the winding stone stairs. Up and up we climbed, silent. My own thoughts tumbled from the Stone in my pouch, to my father’s secrets to, most often, the woman following beyond me. As we approached the top, I also carefully considered, once again, what might happen if our guards were discovered. What I would do, and say, to my father.
I’d crossed a line, taking Lyra with me. Or maybe I’d crossed it when I allowed Kael to pass our men and I on the road as he and Princess Mevlida escaped to Aetheria. An action I’d not have taken had he not lied about so many details of the Gate’s closing. Or stealing the Wind Crystal and tossing it into the Depths. Or the current elemental unrest.
We reached the top. Taking a deep breath, I pushed open the door. Having prepared for the worst, I was pleasantly surprised to see the guard lying precisely as we’d left him.
“Dren was right,” she murmured.
I’d mentioned to Lyra that my right hand had verified the guard’s changing times.
“Dren is always right,” I said.
We made our way back to the first guard who was, somewhat surprisingly, also lying undisturbed on the floor, as if he’d simply fallen asleep.
As if Terranor himself wished for our successful mission, we encountered no others on the way back.
Lyra hadn’t argued when I told her to walk in front of me, though she had shot me a look that said,This isn’t necessary.
But it was.
I’d taken her, expecting an attack. Expecting her fingers to twitch. Expecting a battle. Anticipating that Lyra might attempt to use magic to take the Stone, and me being forced to stop her. The thought of how far I might have had to go to stop her was somehow worse than the one of us being discovered.
Instead, she simply sauntered back to my chambers as if she’d gone there many times before.
