Tiernan’s brow crinkles in concern. “Uhh…okay?”
I touch the base of my neck where my tattoo begins, an idea unfurling in my mind like petals. “Fate. Possibility. Polarity. Energy. Rhythm. Cessation. Essence.” I clap my hands in excitement, whirling on Tiernan. “We need all of them!”
Tiernan stares at me. “I…never knew you were so into astrology.”
I smile broadly. “We have to get back to the Lunaedon. I have an idea.”
“Oh good. I don’t suppose you’re going to clue me in.”
I’m already running toward where the carriage waits. He starts after me, muttering, “Of course not! No one ever bothers to tell Tiernan what’s going on. Why would we start now?”
I’ve just leapt up the steps when the place behind my heart pulls taut. Violent and sudden, it rips a gasp from my throat.
Tiernan, who has just climbed in behind me, manages to catch me before I tumble back down the steps. “Willie?”
But I can’t speak. Everywhere I’m anchored to the island burns and sizzles,awake.
The wards are open. The Aeternalis has returned.
Chapter forty-seven
Iraise the hood of my cloak, burrowing into the thick fabric despite the heat of the day. Even the smallest slices of sunlight penetrating through the shade of the Grove canopy are unbearable against my still-healing wounds, though I’ve found most things to be unbearable now.
The sun. The silk of my shirts. The wide gazes of the children, and the whispers that follow me any time I’m brave enough to leave Adira’s treehouse. I’ve always thought whispers to be airy things, but they are not. They carry a distinct weight, one that settles over a person, heavy enough to change their shape.
I’ve spent more time than I care to admit wondering how Niko has been able to stand it all these years.
Pulling the hood further over my face, I begin down the Nyawa. A perilous journey on the best of days, made far worse by the way each step pulls my ruined skin. I’ve only made it three steps when Adira’s scolding voice sounds from the porch above.
“And just where do you think you’re going?”
For a moment, I consider diving off the side of the tree, certain it’d be less painful than enduring this conversation. When I turn to look up to the princess, I decide the fall would definitely be the safer choice. Addy’s eyes are narrowed in hard challenge, her inky black hair whipping around her though I feel no wind. And while she has left her spear inside the house, and is dressed casually in her usual draping silks, she somehow appears ready for battle.
I clear my throat. “The Lunaedon.”
“Sam—”
“My captain needs me,” I tell her simply.
There are few things in my life that have ever felt as solid as my loyalty to Niko. And it isn’t the misplaced sense of martyrdom Adira sees it is as. It is that Niko is as much a part of me as my own heart, and whenever I find myself floundering—whenever the world is too heavy to remember the shape of my own body—standing next to him always reminds me.
I need something concrete; something immovable to hold onto. And whatever it is that exists between Adira and I is forever moving, the unpredictable rush of a current. She has been more than gracious in allowing me to recover beneath the shade of the Grove, but it was only ever temporary.
Nothing has changed between us. It’s time for me to go.
Adira’s eyes flash with fury. “You’re still recovering. You’re in no shape to—”
I shake my head, breathing a sharp sigh out of my nostrils, and trying not to think about what her sudden anger would taste like if I still had my magic. “I’m well enough to wield a sword, and I can’t stand another day of lying around like an invalid. I won’t burden you with my presence any longer.”
Addy blanches. “Is that—is that what you think? That you’re burdening me?”
The air between us grows thick with scar tissue and regret, and I know instinctively one word will upset the precarious balance we’ve kept between us all these years. A balance I don’t know that I have the energy to keep any longer.
I yank my hood off with a labored sigh, and stomp back up the three steps I’d made it down.
“Yeah, Addy, that’s what I think. You’ve made it perfectly clear over the last two centuries, and I refused to believe it because I read things in your emotions that weren’t mine to read.”
It comes out more forceful than I intend it to, like the words have broken free of a cage. My emotions have far too much room without my magic, and I cannot predict when they will spark to life.
