My stomach flips over. His gift, inherited from the Maker himself. Light. Pure and golden and full of hope. A reminder that darkness is temporary, and the dawn will always arrive to chase away the shadows.
‘Thank you,’ I say, slightly breathlessly. ‘It’s beautiful.’
‘It’s nothing.’
‘No, it’s not nothing. I love it, really.’
He’s still holding my hand, raven eyes boring into mine, questioning, conflicted. My heart beats loud in my ears. I don’t move. I hardly dare breathe.
Then, just when I think he’s about to bridge the small gap between us, he breaks it.
Later, as I drift into sleep, I leave the nightlight glowing gently on my nightstand, guarding me from dreams.
22
My week-long reprieve from stares and whispers soon comes to an end.
Elva helps me into a light, sleeveless blue dress while my brother lies on my bed, eating a plum and complaining about Sheen, his sullen chaperone.
‘He’s just so …’ Flint gestures with his hands as though looking to snatch the right word straight out of the air. ‘So …sour.’
‘Maybe you’re too sweet?’ I suggest.
‘True enough,’ he says. ‘But I’ve just never met anyone who doesn’t –’
‘Like you?’
‘I was going to sayadoreme, but I suppose like will do.’
I roll my eyes.
Spinner appears just as Elva finishes braiding my hair. ‘Here,’ she says, holding out my crutch.
I shake my head. ‘No way. I’m not using that. Not in front of everyone.’
‘Ah, see, I thought you might say that.’ Flint gets to his feet and extends his arm towards me. ‘Worry not, sister mine. I’ll be your crutch. Lean on me.’
I smile gratefully, and with that, the three of us slowly make our way towards the banquet hall. Spinner winks at Flint before she skips away towards the Eyes’ table.
‘What are we talking about?’ Flint asks, ruffling Elaith’s hair out of place as he sits down next to her.
‘What d’you think?’ says Zeph, handing him a glass of purple wine. ‘What’s all anyone’s been talking about? Or rather,who.’
‘I see. So, what do you make of the Imperial Bastard, then? I notice he’s not graced us with his presence tonight.’
‘Well, it’s not hard to see why he’s caused such a stir. The Earth Cleaver, Heir to the Terrathian throne? It’s unprecedented. I mean, after everything he’s done …’ Zephyr trails off, shooting an uneasy glance in my direction before quickly looking away.
I know what he’s thinking, and I don’t blame him. The Earth Cleaver, Heir to the Terrathian throne, the Storm Weaver, Heir to the Aquatori. He’s right. It is unprecedented. Inconceivable, even. It’s little wonder the eclipse caught me completely off guard, why any rumours concerning the missing Green were dismissed as ludicrous. Heirs are selected for their power, yes, but that power is supposed to symbolize rejuvenation, not destruction.
‘Fox is mythic,’ says Elaith dreamily, swirling her wine inside her goblet. ‘Not to mentiongorgeous.’
Kai raises an eyebrow.
‘What? He is. Objectively, I mean. You have to admit it.’
Flint nods wisely. ‘She’s got a point.’
‘He’s the perfect conundrum,’ continues Elaith. ‘I find him fascinating.’
