My lips curved upward.
I remembered this journal with painful clarity. I wouldn’t be able to forget it if I wanted to.
He’d been chronicling his memories with Kelara’s help, acollection of the information he wanted to leave behind.
I was so grateful Mama had ignored my command, that she’d disregarded my desire to toss this piece of his heart away as if it were rubbish.
I flipped through the pages, watching as his handwriting grew sloppier. By two thirds of the way through, Kelara’s neat scribbles had fully replaced his own.
On the last page, Papa’s final words were sloppily scrawled in his own hand. By then, he’d been much too weak to move, but even still, he’d written five simple words:Make me proud, lily pad.
A tear I hadn’t noticed forming slipped down my cheek. I swiped it away. My eyes darted around to see if anyone had noticed.
I ran my hand across his last message, my index finger tracing the swirls he made on this very paper when his life was about to end. This was his final wish, and what had I done for him? Continued to endure. Pretended I was content.
I wasn’t content.
And I couldn’t endure—not anymore. Not when my own life was becoming emptier with each day I trudged through, each day I let time slip away from a life I already knew was too short.
Papa had taught me life was brief in the way he lived and breathed and taught and died.
I took in a shuddering breath, flipping through the earlier pages. Stories of our ancestors, of my family history, of our magic littered the pages. I stopped at one passage filled with instructions for a beginner’s water magic spell. At the top he’d written, “For Lyra to try.”
I scanned the instructions, my confidence rising. Papa knew I had no talent for fire magic, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t try other elements. Most mages had a basic understanding of them all. I readand reread the instructions, letting the words sink deeply into my mind, my heart, my confidence.
What harm would trying do?
CHAPTER TEN
“You look different,” David observed as we strolled hand in hand beneath the cherry trees lining the palace’s gardens. The blooms had long faded, trading their bright pink splendor for lush green canopies. Finches and sparrows chirped from their nests above our heads, their songs filling the air.
I eyed him carefully. “Do I?”
“In a good way,” he clarified. When the silence stretched between us, he cleared his throat. “Did you change your hair?”
I gave a close-lipped smile. “Yes.”
My hair was the same it was every day. So was the rest of my appearance, from my worn leather shoes to the linen kerchief that covered my dark hair.
But I knew immediately what he referred to, the dreams I’d begun to harbor. The fact that he noticed the energy humming beneath my skin unsettled me.
I hadn’t planned on telling David about my father’s journal. I wasn’t sure why: whether because his reaction might shatter my fragile resolve, or because it might confirm fears I already had about our relationship.
But I felt peace about the decision to keep him in the dark, especially considering there was so little I had solidified in my own mind. I hoped to try the spell this evening after my shift, but what then? Another? And another? What would happen when I reached the end of Papa’s book?
“Well it looks lovely,” David said, drawing me closer for a kiss.
His lips grazed my cheek before I pulled away. Taking his hand, I tugged him back toward the palace. He chuckled before letting his long stride push ahead of me once more.
Why did he always insist on leading?
“I wanted to tell you something.”
I smothered my annoyance. “Oh?”
We were rounding the pond, where dragonflies darted over the still water. I passed the rocks I’d knelt on when Prince Thomas saved Asha’s life.
We slowed as toads croaked. A lily pad floated close by, a dark pink water lily resting nearby. It was as if here, in this quiet hideaway, the world had fallen still, and the bustle of the palace’s servants’ hall was a thousand miles away.
