“Ah, well, I figured—”
“You’ll stay?”
“I would,” he began slowly. “Only if you allow it.”
Lux lost her breath.
For once, in a way that did not terrify her.
She hadn’t known. She’d been too scared to ask. Same as she’d been too scared to ask he come along with her the day she’d left Ghadra. Rejection had become commonplace during her years alone. She’d thought she could stomach it from anyone.
She’d realized, some time into knowing Shaw, she would have struggled immensely stomaching it from him.
“Are you sure? You might grow bored only painting the sea. Then there’s the matter of your mother. And you hate heights. What will—”
His lips met hers, effectively cutting her thoughts. He pulled back enough to say, “There’s more to paint than the sea, and my mother would love Verity. I don’t like heights, but I can manage them. What I can’t manage is being apart from you. I’mirreversibly in love with you, Lux. I want to stay. If you think the proximity is too much, though, I could move into Mothlock and—”
Lux silenced him in turn. Her lips brushed against his still when she said, “Stay at Grimrook House, Shaw. Stay with me.”
She felt his smile—
And heard Alix clear his throat.
Her cheeks burned hot as coals when she whirled toward the newly appointed Minder of Mothlock with a scowl. “It isn’t coming up on twelve hours, is it? We’ve got plenty of time.”
“I only had some salt in my lungs,” replied Alix, a half-smile pulling at his lips.
The expression was such a replica of his twin’s, Lux immediately scowled deeper. It would take time, learning to trust others to do the right thing. To help her.
She turned away, placing her ancestor’s journal upon the counter. She could get on with it, perform this revival and deal with the consequences, or…
Her fingers drifted across the cover until she lifted it without fully realizing. She thumbed beyond that first signature page. The handwriting was cramped but sweeping, the flourishes rather lavish for plain journal entries. She read,
To those who come after me:
We have been called by Death to connect with Life. To walk a path of darkness to bring back the light. Keep only your own, and give away what is not. Thrilling accomplishments are ahead.
Your journey has only just begun.
Lux chewed at her cheek. “Give away what is not,” she muttered.
She thought the author meant the soul at first, but of course she couldn’t keep that. She was merely a host for a moment, and it would burn her up. What else could he refer to?
Lux had decided a while ago she’d unbalanced something within herself. Had noticed how Edgar had used the word too. The botanist had described life in that way—all of it, a balance—and she’d seen firsthand what righting it looked like. From a simple pruning to the end of a siphoning monster.
“Devil take me,” she whispered. “I’ve been doing it all wrong.”
“What was that?” asked Shaw.
Lux flipped to the next page, skimming over the entry. “I was so lost before, that guiding someone’s soul to feel light for a while was like a reprieve from an abyss. Even if it drained me afterward. But now, I’m not lost—and I think the energy of a revival is too much alongside my own. I’ve been trying to contain it like I always have, to keep it for myself, but I’m not meant to. I’m meant to give it away.”
Her eyes lifted to Shaw, where he watched her carefully. She turned back to the journal, closed it, and then closedThe Risen, too. She stacked the thinner book in front of the larger one and huffed an incredulous laugh.
A perfect match.
A set.
“The Grimrooks were not all terrible,” she said.
