His words leave me speechless.
“You are a good person, Lyria,” Cygnus says again finally, seeming uncomfortable with my silence. “Whether because of your Talent or in spite of it, I don’t know. But you’re no monster, all right?”
I look away, heat pooling in my cheeks and stomach and swelling through my chest.
“Thank you,” I whisper.
“No need to thank me for facts,” Cygnus grumbles. He throws me my pack. “Now, let’s get on with it, shall we? I don’t want to keep waiting around for something else that wants to kill us.”
And just like that, the moment is gone.
Cygnus and I reexamine our inventory of supplies and pack up. After lighting a fresh pair of torches, we withdraw another spool of thread and set out again.
Slowly, methodically, we push through another section of the tunnels. We shuffle along in silence, following turns and retreating at dead ends. Gradually, the air turns colder, and eventually the tunnel opens up again. We step into another massive cavern, almost identical to the one where the blood chalice was waiting. There’s another pedestal, with another set of runes inscribed on its cylindrical base. However, there’s no chalice this time—just a small, circular groove in the stone.
I hold out my torch and sit cross-legged while I translate. Cygnus looks on, characteristically pensive.
“Here. I’ve got it,” I say when I finish. Cygnus moves close to me to peek over my shoulder as I read aloud.
“‘One of three, and one of one, I glitter as the stars. Let all the pain be overcome by my eternal march. I am the seed of Rashielle, unyielding as the clock. I carry life within my sight, on this unshifting dock.’”
Cygnus slumps when I finish. “Great. Another riddle.”
I stand up, dusting dirt off my skirts.
“What are you doing?” Cygnus asks.
“We’re not solving this here,” I say. “Not tonight.”
“Why?”
I raise a brow at him. “Doyouhave any bright ideas?”
“Not necessarily.”
“Right,” I say. “We go back, and we mull it over like we did the other time.”
The last thing I feel like doing is the painful journey out of the caverns and back to the palace, but I don’t see any other options.
“No,” Cygnus argues. “We’ve got a supply of food and water. We should stay longer and try to work it out here.”
“The last riddle took us weeks!” I protest. “For all we know, more monsters are going to drop out of the ceiling at any moment. We’re not going to solve this here! We should get out while we still can, and regroup, like before.”
“But we’ll lose all our progress,” Cygnus insists.
I roll my eyes. “So we’ll come back! But we can’t just stay down here indefinitely. People will notice that we’re missing.”
“Solving the riddle is the most important thing we could be doing.” Cygnus’s eyes flash, growing accusatory. “This is about Finn, isn’t it?”
My face flames, and I snap, “No, it’s not!”
Is this really another dig at my competence? Another shaming accusation?
“Sure.”
I narrow my eyes. “If you’ve got a problem with me, spit it out.”
“I just thought you’d feel a little more urgency given that it is your people in danger!” he snaps. “But no, you’ve got to get back to your boyfriend.”
