The woman spoke without looking up from her book.“You’re not from Thornfell.”
There was something oddly familiar about the voice.
“No, I’m traveling from Analon—”
I hadn’t even finished my sentence before she resumed reading.
“I’m in need of—”
“You should try Grey Spit,” the woman interrupted, closing her book and getting up.She headed for a door.
“Are you Elandra?”I asked.
The woman froze, her shoulders tensing.
“There’s no one here by that name,” she said gruffly, then continued toward the door.
“Do you know a Syra?”I asked.
The woman froze again, clenching her fists, still not turning around.“Get out of my shop or I’ll call the Royal Guard.”
It was clear she knew more than she was telling me.This was my only lead, all I had left.If I couldn’t get information here, Elena and Darion would likely be lost.
So I took a deep breath and said Syra’s dying words: “The moon dances with the stars.”
The woman’s shoulders drooped.She spun around, her lips quivering.“Where d-did you hear that?”she stuttered.
The sudden recognition was like a slap to the face.I could scarcely believe it.
“Mrs.Crowe?”
Chapter forty-five
Thornfell Keep
“CassianNightbrook,”shesaid.“I thought I told you never to seek me out again.”Then she drew in a long breath.“The moon dances with the stars.Where—where did you hear that?”Her voice was shaky.
“Those were Syra’s dying words.”
“That’s not possible,” she said, her face full of anguish.“My Syra died long ago.There was nothing left of her.”
“Just before she died, she was freed,” I said.“I saw it myself.Her eyes cleared.She knew who she was.She knewyou.”
“It can’t be,” she said, looking near a breakdown.
I kept my voice as gentle as I could.“She sent me to you.She said she was sorry.”
Mrs.Crowe collapsed on the ground, weeping.“My daughter was in there all along.I could have saved her.”
Herdaughter?I ran to her side and placed a gentle hand on her back as she heaved with sobs.I sat with her for a long while until she had cried herself out.
I felt the weight of her loss.It was something I was all too familiar with.I only hoped that in the end, she’d be able to turn the grief she felt into something other than despair.
I whispered, “You weren’t able to save Syra, but she died free and at peace.And you might be able to save others.”
She lifted her head, her face still streaked with tears.“What others?”
“PeopleIcare for.People who might end up like Syra did if I can’t help them.”
