For years, the elves tolled on the tallest peak in the Kingdom of Gwalia, pouring coin, blood, sweat, and tears into the soil. And in time, the grandest Observatory the world has ever known rose from the stone. From there, they studied the stars through intricate mechanical devices. They charted the constellations and searched for distant worlds beyond our own.
Now it lies in ruins. Only a blackened crater remains.
Rhian rubs a hand down her face. “The journey to the Observatory takes four or five days at best. With the harp, even longer.”
“I’m afraid it’s that or stay here and try again,” I say. “And I could still be wrong.”
She lets out a short laugh. “We all know you’re not wrong.” Rising from the table, she snatches up the scroll. “I’ll break the news to the others. We’ll need a least twenty people if we’re going to do this properly. I assume you’ll join us. We may need that mind of yours again.”
“Consider me there,” I say, then clear my throat. “There’s just one favor I’d like to ask of you.”
She cocks her head. “Anything you need, it’s yours.”
“I’d like some blank parchment and a silverpoint stylus.”
I shift uneasily, catching Taliesin’s attention in the corner of my eye.
Without hesitation, she pulls three sheets of parchment from the table, uncovers a silver stylus from beneath a stack of others, and pushes it all toward me.
“All yours. Anything else?” she asks.
My heart pounds as I pull the precious materials closer. “That’s it. Thank you, Rhian.”
With a nod, she strides away before vanishing through the great double doors. Taliesin and I are all that’s left inside. For a long moment, the only sound is his breath and my own pounding heartbeat. Then he stands and holds out a hand.
“We should get some rest,” he says. “By the sounds of it, we have a long road ahead of us.”
At the thought, an endless weariness presses into my bones, heavy as a stone. In the past week, it feels like I’ve barely had a chance to breathe, let alone think about anything beyondsurvival—and my increasingly complicated feelings for the man beside me.
We leave the great hall behind, my dress fluttering around my legs and the parchment clutched to my chest. After climbing the long flight of stairs, Taliesin walks me to my door. He stops there, gazing down at me, thoughtful.
It would be so easy to close the distance between us. All I’d have to do is grip the front of his tunic, yank him down to me, and crash my lips against his.
Instead, I clear my throat. “Tonight was nice, even if it ended in disappointment.”
His lips twitch. “Which part was nice? The bit where you sneaked into my room to kill me or—”
“Stop it.” I reach up as if I mean to shove him again, then lose the nerve halfway and let my hand fall back to my side. “You’re never going to let me live that down, are you?”
“Probably not,” he says in a low, rough voice that sends a shiver of delight down my spine.
I let out a light laugh. “Well…all right then…”
He doesn’t move closer, even when another few heartbeats pass between us. Only then do I notice his gaze has shifted to my hands. To the parchment I’m still holding too tightly against my chest.
“You’re going to draw,” he says, not a question.
I hesitate, caught off guard that he knows this about me, but I shouldn’t be surprised by his understanding of me anymore. He’s ‘known me’ for a decade. Of course I would have told him I yearn to draw.
“Yes,” I say.
His brow furrows slightly, like he’s piecing something together. “Why tonight?”
“Because…” I look down at the parchment, then back to him. “I think it will help me remember.”
Something flickers across his face—understanding, or something close to it. He studies me for a long moment, then nods once, like that makes all the sense in the world.
“Good night, Taliesin,” I say.
