“A lot has changed since then.”
“Not to me.” He was still Aleks, regardless of what Lorien did to him.
Bastian let out a soft sigh. He said nothing else, however, seemingly content to drop the matter.
But I was tired of wasting time tiptoeing around difficult conversations, so I looked him directly in the eyes and said, “Lorien told me he tried to reach me before tonight. His messages were interrupted, apparently.”
Bastian didn’t deny it, which only made my temper flare hotter.
“So it’s true. You were keeping this from me.”
“I was dealing with it in a calm, rational manner,” he replied. “Looking into the origins of the notes, making sure they were legitimate, that sort of thing. I was going to tell you about them soon enough.”
“When?”
“When I thought it was safe to do so.”
“Will youpleaselet go of this foolish idea of keeping me safe?” I seethed.
He set his jaw.
I glared.
Thalia settled into the chair at my desk. Phantom followed her, placing his head in her lap and demanding pets, while his bright blue eyes remained sharply fixed on me.
Eamon—predictably—ignored our sibling spat and continued his speculating and examining, returning to the marks Lorien’s magic had left behind. Running his fingers over the shimmering indentations, he said, “This three-way connection is interesting, to say the least. What I still can’t figure out, though, is how Aleksander keeps managing to break through Lorien’s hold on him.”
“Is he breaking through, or is Lorienreleasinghim just long enough to further torment Nova?” Thalia muttered.
“Another fair question,” Eamon admitted. “Though he also did it as a child—ousting him more or less completely back then. And this was before Nova came along.”
I went back to cleaning up the painting, an abstract masterpiece that had been hanging in my bedroom originally. Aleks had always liked it; he said it reminded him of the courtyard where we’d first met as children, and I agreed—the swirls of yellow and white made me think of the flowers that had once grown in that yard.
I lifted it up, shaking away the bits of broken glass clinging to its face. The art itself was undamaged. Still bright, still beautiful, even as everything around it had shattered.
“There’s clearly more to Aleks that we don’t understand,” Eamon said.
My brother opened his mouth, as if to agree, but hesitated when I shot him a withering look.
Luckily—or unluckily, maybe—we were interrupted before our argument could go any further; a servant stumbled into the room, looking flustered.
“I’m sorry for intruding,” he said, breathlessly.
Bastian waved the apology off. “What is it?”
“The Elarithian lord is awake.” The servant darted a harried glance my way before lowering his eyes to the floor. “He asked to speak with Lady Nova, alone.”
My breath momentarily seized.
I could feel the immediate objections building among my companions. But I was tired of people making decisions on my behalf, trying to keep me safe in a world that was decidedlynot safefor anyone. So I quickly but carefully placed the painting on my desk and said, “If that was his request, then I will speak with him alone.”
Only one nursestood at Zayn’s bedside when I entered his room. There were two others skirting around the edges of the chamber, occasionally whispering to one another while casting wary looks in the direction of the bed. Afraid of whatever could happen next, I guessed—that there might be some lingering trick Lorien had left in his former host.
I was wary, too, but I didn’t let it show.
With my head held high, I crossed the room, fixing my gaze on Zayn. I had to fight the urge to recoil as I approached and fully took in the sight of him.
Or what was left of him, rather.
