“Calya.” Nocren’s voice cracked, his throat gone dry. He coughed, sucking in a lungful of air to shout, “Calya!”
The Eternal Wind was with him. She stopped. Looked down at him with haunted eyes.
“Calya, don’t. Whatever it is?—”
“I have to,” she mumbled. “I have to get them, Lowe. I have?—”
“Whatever it is, I’ll help you. We’ll get it.”
“The wind—your wind—it showed me…” Calya glanced back at the burning room. She didn’t flinch when several of the bricks comprising the wall cracked, then crumbled, veins in the rockwork blazing white before extinguishing, lost in the smoke.
“They’re just possibilities, Calya, not fate. You get to choose your own ending. Always have.”
She stared down at him, limned by fire.
“Calya. I’m not leaving without you. Not again.” Nocren held out his arms. “Jump.”
Calya hesitated, shrinking back from the broken railing. His heart sank, desperate pleas rising up and jamming in his throat as he floundered for the right words.
Then a small leather bag dangled over the edge. She pushed it with her foot, letting it fall to the side. She followed it. Flew through the air toward him, not with a careful drop but a leap.
She hadn’t been backing away with indecision but gathering herself. To go on faith. To jump… for him.
Nocren caught her, crushing her against his chest, his nose dropping to her hair. He ignored the ash and debris and smoke, squeezing her tight so he could feel her draw breath. To know she was alive and safe and with him.
Calya stirred, wriggling until he finally, reluctantly, let her down. He motioned that they should move toward the far wall, so they could be clear of the fire while still keeping an eye on Brint’s motionless form. Calya stooped to grab the leather bag, grunting as she lifted it. Nocren moved to help, but recoiled with a pained hiss when he reached for the glazed ice brick sticking out and received a burn for his troubles.
“What is that?”
Calya held up her hand. A jagged scar ran across her palm. “It’s kind of mine now.”
“Explain,” he said, carefully ushering her and her dangerous cargo to the wall. There, he sank down, and Calya tucked in beside him. Up above, what was left of Avenor’s office collapsed on itself, the burning rubble spitting a plume of smoke and embers.
They watched in silence.
Then Calya’s shoulders began to shake. Alarmed, Nocren slid his arm tighter around her, his head bending lower to hear?—
Hoarse laughter.
“Sorry, sorry. I’ll get over it,” she wheezed. “I’m not used to so much… excitement.”
With a wry chuckle, Nocren leaned back.
Calya lay her head on his shoulder. After a moment of quiet, she murmured, “You called your wind. For me.”
He nodded. “I asked it to help you. I’m sorry if it was… abrupt.”
“You said you wouldn’t do that anymore. Not for your family. Not for anyone.”
Nocren slid his hand gently over her hair. “I did say that. But you’re more than anyone.” He brushed the crown of her head with his lips. “You are to me.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
Time ceased to flow in a meaningful way after Calya decided to forsake her life’s goal and leap into Lowe’s arms.
Perhaps that way of putting it was a touch dramatic, but she figured she’d earned a bit of melodrama. It was a short-lived wallow, pleasantly interrupted by the arrival of reinforcements.
Not long after Calya dozed off on Lowe’s shoulder, she woke to find a dozen people in the pit, Orren, her sister, and her friends from the Valley amongst them. She was lying on the floor, Lowe’s cloak under her head like a pillow while he stood by the glass sphere, conferring with Ezzyn and Matthias.
