But I knew the answer already, of course.
Kael waited for me to confirm it.
Turning back to the Gate, I considered, as I had every moment since realizing Lyra’s true purpose in Gyoria, the implications of reopening the Gate.
Of my father’s response.
Or more importantly, of my mother’s.
Squeezing my eyes shut, I envisioned her standing here with us. Of the last moments we spent with her before she left us, forever.
Opening them, I wiped away the single tear that had formed, proving they were still possible. Kael, thankfully, said nothing. He waited. Watched.
I could feel him next to me.
“It is good to have you back,” I said.
“I never left. You just stopped seeing me.”
Trust Kael to turn comfort into rebuke. Still, the words lodged somewhere deeper than I wanted to admit.
“Then maybe I see you now,” I said, though the admission tasted like surrender.
Kael’s mouth curved, not in triumph but in something quieter. Something I didn’t have the strength to name.
I would stand beside her at the Gate. I would help them try to open it.
But not for her. Or for Kael. Or even Mother.
For a kingdom that deserved better than Father’s hate.
29
LYRA
“You’ve been avoiding me.”
It had been two days since he’d touched me. Kissed me. Sought me out.
I thought to go to him last eve, but Terran knew where I was located since I’d shown him. And my pride kept me in my own bedchamber.
After the second restless night following the big revelation— Terran would allow us to use the Stone of Mor’Vallis to open the Gate—I should be celebrating with the others. Instead, I broke my fast in my own chamber and headed toward Galindre’s instead. King Galfrid’s high steward, also a healer, would know as well as anyone how to calm my restless mind.
As always, his door was wide open.
Galindre’s long silver hair was tied at the back of his head. Though his back was to me, he would know I’d entered. Somehow, Galindre knew… everything.
“Good morn, Lady Lyra.”
I headed to his long table of herbs and potions. Most air-wielders left such things to their Gyorian counterparts, masters of all things grown from the land, but since relations had soured with Balthor, he had become quite skilled.
“Good morn.” I watched as his slender fingers moved quickly, reaching into glass vials as he measured precise amounts of each.
When he finished, Galindre looked knowingly at me.
“What troubles you?”
A laugh escaped me. Where to begin?
