This whole time I’ve been so busy picturing the Eye at the Lagoon, or nestled at the top of a cliff in Brava, that I never once stopped to consider that it wasn’t somewhere to be discovered, but revealed. That it wasn’t lost, butconcealed.
I think back to the night I was called to the Keep. The Eye hadn’t just been sitting at the bottom of the training pool for decades. I found it because Iknewit was there – the same way I pulled that silver teacup from the portal in Queen Hydra’s chambers.
At the Binding Ceremony I was trying to get the Eye away from King Balen. But what better way to ensure that it would be out of his reach than to hide it somewhere onlyIcould find it?
Queen Hydra’s words have a way of sticking in my head, influencing my subconscious.
So long as you follow the Creek, you will always find what you are looking for.
The Creek has kept us company this past while, guiding us from province to province. I have drunk from it,bathedin it. But I never, not for one moment, imagined that it was the key to everything – the destination, the hiding place, theportal.
‘No,’ I breathe.
‘What’re you doing?’ Flint asks as I roll up my sleeve and plunge my arm into the water.
I say nothing, not trusting myself to speak. The Creek is cool and clear, and I let it claim me, praying that I’m right.
Please.Please.
I squeeze my eyes tight shut, concentrating hard, heart hammering against my chest. A painful moment drags by, all hope hanging precariously in the balance.
Then I see it – a glint of gold beneath the surface. Seconds later my fingers close round something small and cold and unequivocally familiar.
Slowly, I retrieve my hand.
There, sitting on my palm, is the Eye of the Soul.
57
Elva
Ilean against Hal’s shoulder, gazing out at the swathes of black-silk night. The moon is just a crooked sliver, but the stars burn bright, speckling the sky like tiny white diamonds.
These past few days have been a period of adjustment – for everybody.
The liberation of the serfs marks an end to over fifty years of tyranny, but for many it marks the beginning of a new age, a new life. The hours following Hal’s decree passed in a dreamlike blur. Ingra was released and taken to the medical wing while the rest – some smiling, some weeping, some in a state of dazed disbelief – began streaming out of the palace gates, piling into carts and carriages headed for the fleet of Ostacrian ships waiting in the ports, each vessel crammed with chests of Castellion gold and bound for the Otherlands.
Pip hugged me tightly before joining Seth, Ty, Clover and the others. I watched them go, these people I grew up with – all of us casualties of a war we did not start, guilty of no crime beyond being descended from the vanquished.So much was stolen from us. Our stories will forever stain the pages of history books. We are human scars, and we may never truly heal. Yet while what Hal has done cannot erase the past, it does promise a future. One that is free from oppression and bloodshed. One that isfree.
I thought about Obsidia and felt a wistful pang of longing for the life I left behind. I know that one day I will return. But when I do, it’ll be with my sister.
Though it seems I was not the only one who chose to remain. For some, Ostacre is all they’ve ever known.Homeis not always a straightforward concept. But now they are free to choose. Several have even decided to stay on at the palace, where they’ll be paid fairly for their service as attendants.
As for Matron, she was discovered filthy and hysterical at the bottom of the Pit.
Mostly, opinions are divided. After the initial shock wore off, many courtiers felt that Hal’s display of mercy was a testament to his character. Others, including his advisers, were furious, saying it only served to demonstrate poor leadership and lack of judgement. Word continues to spread like wildfire. Soon the whole of Ostacre will have heard the news, and no doubt King Balen will use it to kindle yet more support. To my surprise, Caius Castellion has made no attempt at retaliation. The last I saw of him was in the library, sitting in his armchair, muttering feverishly to himself.
Hal believes it’s only a matter of time until King Merrick of Thaven withdraws his daughter’s hand, since freeing the serfs was certainly not what the king had in mind when he demanded Hal prove he was the more powerful ally. Itseems that liberating my homeland may just be the downfall of his own. Politically, Hal is balancing on a knife edge. HeneedsThaven’s support in order to defeat his uncle. That, or a miracle.
Hal slips his hand into mine – his skin is as cool as the night air caressing my face. Part of the observatory’s domed roof has been slid open to reveal the constellations.
I shouldn’t be glad that his betrothal may soon be brought to an end, not when it could destabilize his position even further. And yet, however selfish it might be, I cannot bear to think of him with another now that he has never felt more likemine.
I watch a wisp of shadow curl fluidly round one of the floating orbs of light in front of us, then dart away again before it can extinguish it. Hal smiles a little. He’s still coming to terms with my being a Mage, just as I’m slowly getting used to this strange new dynamic between us. Strange, but good. Because now I am free to love him without guilt or fear. Now, there are no more secrets between us.
Well – apart from one.
Slowly I reach out to trace the dark circles under Hal’s eyes, my fingers grazing the small criss-cross scar on his cheek. ‘Tell me what’s wrong with you.’
