He smiled. “I’m sure it is. I’ll try to find you later, but if I can’t get away, I’ll make sure someone else helps you dispel your powers today.”
My shoulders dipped a little in disappointment.
“Chin up,” he said, noting the slight shift, “there will be plenty of time to work together on this.”
And then, he vanished.
Chapter 19
Hunting Clarity
Luckily, I hadn’t noted any signs that my powers needed release, although the same couldn’t be said for the pang I’d felt seeing Endymion’s archway as I turned down my own. Blatantly ignoring it, I continued to my residence, wanting to change into something more suitable in case Caius—or whomever he sent—was able to train with me sooner than later.
Stepping into my bedchamber, I paused, noting two neat stacks of books on my bed. I looked over my shoulder, seeing the bookshelves from the far room peek out through the open door, and wondered why Fenyte hadn’t shelved them like the rest.
Curious as to what could be so important that he placed them on my bed, I moved toward them. A piece of neatly folded parchment lay on the stack to the right, my name written in tidy, uniform block letters. Unfolding it, I began reading.
Little Star.
I jolted, and my heart skipped a beat as my eyes instantly jumped past the short note to the bottom landingon Endymion’s signature. My chest fluttered, and I forced myself to shake off the feeling. Mindlessly, I half sat on the plush bed, bowed my head, and took in a deep breath.
Little Star,
I’m sorry I wasn’t the one to tell you about your connection to the Celestial Court and Lumnara, but it was Caius’ story to tell, and he’d asked me to be the one to share it with you. I know that ever-churning, brilliant mind of yours has more questions than answers right now, so I’ve selected these books from my personal collection in the hopes that you find the answers you’re owed and the ones you seek.
Endymion
I sat there stunned, looking between the dozen or so texts of varying sizes and the parchment. Putting the note to the side with care, I let my shoes fall to the ground, slid back farther onto the bed, crossed my legs, and reached for the book that he’d placed the note on.
Flipping it over from spine to fore edge, I noticed there were tiny, sporadically placed indents at the top and bottom corners. Catching my nail in one of them, I guided the tome open to the page, brows knitting as I realized the corner had been folded in. Pretty sure Fenyte would ban me from the library if I’d ever defaced a book in that manner; I was suddenly grateful these were Endymion’s. Realizing the tab faced the other way, I flipped the page over to find an underlined passage with a note crammed into the small margin next to it in Endymion’s now-familiar block script.
Nyla, see pg. 287.
The corners of my mouth tugged up at the abbreviation of my name as I read the short paragraph on the Autumn Court, then kicked over to page 287 as directed. His notes had me bouncing between bookslike a scavenger hunt.
Hours passed as I slowly put together court histories and, more importantly, their ramifications. Turned out that the Summer and Winter Courts were more powerful than their equinox counterparts. Which made sense, although it wouldn’t have been something I’d ever thought of if he hadn’t pointed it out to me. But solstices celebrate extremes, while—as its name dictates—an equinox is derived from balance, which doesn’t equate strength. At least not the kind the fae seem to revere.
As for the Autumn Court itself, most of the information Endymion had tagged and highlighted was found in one of two extremely dense tomes on military history, and while the text was dry, the story it painted was anything but.
Fighting, honor, and death were in autumn’s blood by nature, meaning it was only natural for them to militarize over time. But it wasn’t until Tackejta, Wymond’s great-grandfather, that their skirmishing clans of hot-headed brutes banded together with a unified purpose—equality. And I couldn’t stop the shiver that ran down my spine from Endymion’s note drawing a parallel to what the Celestial Court had faced.
Tackejta had made a tactical error that cost him everything—he decided to broker an alliance with the most peaceful court in existence, the Spring Court, which promptly warned the Solstice Courts. The war was staunched before it began. Heavy sanctions—oppressively so—were placed on the Autumn Court, although they were allowed to continue as a militarized court to serve at the behest of the realm as needed. Tackejta was executed and replaced by Wymond’s father, Lagos, who reigned for over a millennium without incident—until the Great Curse.
The Autumn Court was ordered to march on the human realm, only once they got there, a ten-year-old boy cast a spell that stripped their army of all magic. With weapons banned as part of the sanctions, they’d come to rely on their powers too much. Vastly outnumbered, the humans slaughtered them by the thousands. The losses were catastrophic.
Mind reeling, I lay on my stomach, knees bent with feet suspended in the air, chin resting on my crossed forearms that rested atop the thickest tome of the bunch. I understood now when Caius had told Wymond to stop interrogating me during the solstice dinner why it had felt like an order. And although I was loath to admit it, Wymond and Thaddeus had a lot in common when it came to losing family and wanting the spark’s power to prevent repeated histories. But I had a nagging feeling that there was something more, like there was a reason Wymond wanted to act now that had nothing to do with me. Or maybe I was completely off-base, and the fact that he knew about the spark was the only catalyst.
A knock sounded at the door.
“It’s open,” I called, still tangled in my thoughts.
Booted footsteps echoed through the main room as they closed in. Raising my eyes, Artton came into view as he walked toward me then stopped, holding at the invisible line to my bedchamber.
“I’ve been looking everywhere for you,” he said, clearly agitated.
Just like that, the invisible halo of Endymion’s kindness faded, like someone stealing the warm blanket it’d been wrapped in. Annoyed, I raised a brow. “Normally, one starts with the most obvious place,” I deadpanned.
“Cute,” he drawled, thoroughly unimpressed. “Get dressed, I don’t have all evening.”
