Fluorite
The next weekwas a blur of camping beneath the stars and staying in small inns as we left Lyland and passed through Kilspire. Now, we’re so close to the castle I can catch glimpses of it along the tree line.
Graylen has stayed quiet since Lyland, but he looks…lighter. Less empty.
Every day, he’s walked with a stronger step, his chin held higher and eyes clearer. I kept him close to me, finding ways to touch him when he got that distant, glazed-over look.
Our goal may be to find Nightfall—to reunite the missing piece with the dagger and use it to take down Moros—but that doesn’t minimize what Graylen went through. Ever since our night in Lyland, he stopped shutting me out—stopped hiding his emotions.
Every soft smile he gives me is like the sun deciding to peek through the clouds after a month of storms. He may still behealing, but he’shere. He’s holding himself together and pushing through his pain, proving how strong he truly is.
“You’re awfully quiet today,” Graylen rumbles into my ear, his chest pressed against me as our horse trots toward Wisebech.
I glance over at him and say, “Just enjoying the view.”
He grunts and squeezes my right thigh, his hand resting lightly on top of it.
“Really?” Adrian questions, his voice lifting an octave as he glances around, trying to see what I’m seeing. “Doesn’t look very enjoyable to me.”
Graylen huffs a quiet laugh, and I roll my eyes.
I’m seeing the same thing Adrian is. Itisn’tenjoyable; clearly he hasn’t learned whatsarcasmis yet.
The view is muddy soil, too damp for grass to grow, and scattered trees that have seen better days. It’s a trodden sludge instead of a clearly marked path, the wet ground trampled by travelers and unable to hold any real shape besides shoe and hoof prints. There’s a faint, wet, musty scent that clings to the air—not quite unpleasant but certainly not a fresh stalk of rosemary, either.
This terrain…it’s familiar. It’s all I’ve known, and that brings a flood of old memories rushing in—reminding me of where I am.
There’s a twinge in my chest.
We’re getting close to the royal training camp.
It doesn’t feel warm, like coming home. Doesn’t give me a sense of peace or excitement as we near the town just outside of the castle. If we stop in Wisebech to rest tonight, then it’ll only take us a short ride to get to the castle tomorrow.
We’re so close I can taste it, can feel the weight of dread mixing with the burning heat of anger.
But the dread isn’t from seeing Moros or finally being near Nightfall. It’s that with every step our horse takes, we’re brought closer to the camp I grew up in. The place my “father”raised me—fed me poison to suppress my magic and lied to me about who I was.
Even if we aren’t passing through the camp, just knowing it’s nearby sends a shiver down my spine.
No, warmth isnotwhat I feel as the sounds of the small town of Wisebech begin to trickle into the air. What swirls in the pit of my stomach is heavy. Nauseating.
My fingers tighten around the reins, and Graylen shifts behind me a few seconds later.
“Breathe, Lunaria,” he murmurs softly, too low for Adrian to hear. “Tell me what’s going on.”
I clench my jaw, not trusting my voice.“There was a brief time when I thought I would never have to come back here,”I admit into his mind.“Everything has been happening so fast that I haven’t had time to think about what it would be like to really be back.”
His hands circle around my waist, and he sets his chin down on my shoulder. I relax into him, not realizing how stiffly I had been sitting.
“Reichardt can’t hurt you anymore.”The words float gently into my thoughts.“And you’re not alone this time. I’m not going anywhere, okay?”
I nod my head, my throat closing at the reminder.
We pass several run-down cottages on the outskirts of Wisebech, dodder vines snaking through half-dead crops and crawling onto roofs.
A heaviness falls between the three of us with each passing home, the dodder infestation somehow doubled since I was last here. It’s unlike anything I’ve ever seen, a plague that has swept through Crea like a wave.
“Their farms…” Adrian’s voice dies off, and he pulls his horse to a stop. “I didn’t realize it was this bad.”
