VEYKA
Cyara had not managed to produce cosmetics from her secret stash. Not that it would have mattered. I doubted anything, human or fae, magical or otherwise, would have covered the dark circles under my eyes. I’d have looked better if someone had punched me. At least those bruises would heal.
“You should eat,” Cyara said as she knotted the tail of my narrow plait. She’d braided from my right temple, over the top of my head, and down the left side, leaving the back of my hair loose to skim my shoulder blades. A strand of garnets glittered in the braid. A far cry from the ornate plaits she’d fashioned in Baylaur, but effective. Elegant. Regal.
A reminder to every terrestrial I encountered of who I was.
Perhaps a reminder to my mate as well.
My stomach clenched painfully. No, I would not be eating.
Cyara stepped away, sipping her tea as she went. Maybe I would be spared—
“Why haven’t you gone to him?”
“He does not even remember my name,” I said through clenched teeth.
“Maybe something has changed.”
“Do you think if Arran remembered me, that he would be patiently waiting? That he would be anywhere but here?”
I watched Cyara’s jaw clench beneath her otherwise smooth cheek. She was the consummate elemental. But she was also my friend.
“I think his chances of remembering you are better if you are in his company,” Cyara said carefully. So careful, because she knew what she was proposing.
To spend time with Arran, to feel the pull of our bond, the growl of his wolf… but not to see the love in his eyes… it would be torture.
Cyara set down her tea, the rattle of the cup in its saucer unmistakable. Her hands were trembling. So were mine.
“This is not your fault, Veyka,” she said, her voice steady even if her hands were not.
Of course. Cyara, only my keen and observant Cyara, could have plucked the thought so deftly from my mind.
“I begged the Lady of the Lake for his life.”
“You did what you had to. I was there on that shore. I saw you, ready to take your own life rather than lose him,” Cyara countered.
“But I did lose him.”
I inhaled slowly—through the tender membranes of my nostrils, past my throat, sore from sobbing, into my lungs, somehow still functioning alongside my broken heart.
A hand curled around my shoulder. Strong. Steady. Constant.
I lifted my eyes to meet Cyara’s in the mirror’s reflection. Her chin may still have wobbled slightly, but the depths of her turquoise eyes were eternal. My friend, through all the battles to come.
“Then you should find your way back to him.” She squeezed my shoulder tighter. “And I shall be at your side, no matter how long the journey.”
“As will I.”
I hadn’t even heard Lyrena enter. It was a testament to just how lost I was.
My golden knight just grinned, resplendent as ever in her goldstone armor, and reached for my other shoulder.
My heart swelled in my chest. And it was still broken and I was broken and the world was royally fucked up. But at least in that moment, I was not alone.
But our peace was brief.
A knock sounded at the door. Not the one connecting my chamber to Lyrena, Cyara, Percival, and Diana. The one that led to the rest of Eilean Gayl. To reality.
