Chapter 39 Lyra
Lyra
There’s a small, almost unbearable warmth in my chest as I watch Kaelen dip his head. He listens to something the soldier says, hands flying, and laughs.
It changes his whole face.
His eyes crease at the corners in a different way to his anger, an indent appearing where the edge of his smile meets his cheeks. I feel myself flush, even as a lump fills my throat. He continues moving through the crowd, and I find myself unable to take my eyes away.
He stops for everyone. Every single person, he pauses for and speaks to with no hint of impatience on his face as he listens to what they have to say before he moves on. At first, I wonder what he says to them, to leave them smiling when the air is filled with such grief.
And then I understand, with a single, painful stab directly into my heart.
He’s saying goodbye.
And as I look around, I see it everywhere.
On every face around me. An understanding of what is to come, an acceptance of the inevitability of the battle ahead, and a fierce, proud joy as the darkwielders push the knowledge away for a single, last night and say their goodbyes to each other.
People embrace, laugh, hold each other as they move in quiet harmony to the sound of the music that still plays.
Others are slipping away, hands held tightly as they find a more private place.
Sera catches my eye, laughter filling her eyes as Elspeth tugs her through the crowd. When she smiles, I return it.
Unable to help myself, I move through the slowly thinning crowd, nudging my way through.
There is no anger left in the faces that turn my way.
Some uncertainty, a faint wariness, a widening of eyes as they turn with a smile for whoever they’re looking for and find me there instead.
But there are smiles for me too, small but there.
I find myself collecting every one of them, storing them up in my memories.
Some murmur thanks, their eyes drifting to Sera, and I shake them off as best I can.
I don’t want their thanks, not when my father is the reason they face their end.
I see Eldritch dancing with a short, ruddy-faced soldier. When their lips meet, I glance away, only to find eyes of granite and darkness instead. “Dance with me.”
I look at Kaelen’s outstretched hand, and my stomach flips over. “You must have others to speak to.”
“You’ve been watching me, then?” I feel his gaze on my face, feel my color deepening. “They wanted to speak to me, and I them, but now they want to spend their remaining time with those who mean something more. I won’t take that time from them.”
I glance up, then. His hand is still outstretched. “And you? What do you want?”
“The same,” Kaelen says quietly. “Dance with me, Lyra Vaelion.”
And for once, there’s no anger in the way he says my name. My eyes burn more. But I reach out, slipping my hand into his. “I should warn you that I am an excellent dancer. You may find yourself outmatched, Duskbane.”
I feel his smile against my hair. “It’s not the first time.”
But it might be the last. His hand wraps around my waist. There’s no particular elegance to our movements despite my jibe. No fluid dance around the floor. All of the complicated training I received to improve my technical ability dissolves into nothing.
Kaelen holds me against him, and we simply move. His heartbeat is strong, and steady against my ear, and I decide that I vastly prefer this to a perfectly choreographed, stilted dance. “It was a beautiful ceremony, at the Gloam. We don’t have anything like that.”
How much they have missed out on, in Solvandyr. How much joy and light they could have experienced, if we weren’t so focused on war, and ceremony. Pomp and circumstance above heart and family.
My life could have been so different. But then, I might not have met them.
“I have no regrets,” I breathe. Kaelen pauses, his feet halting for a moment before he resumes moving. “I am glad I came here, Kaelen.”
We slow again. His hand brushes beneath my chin. Nudges it up. Dark eyes search mine, his thumb brushing my cheek. “No tears tonight, witch.”
“I’m still a witch, then?” I blink, and more trickle down my cheeks. Sniffing, I shake my head as if that will rid me of them. “Ignore me. I don’t know why I’m crying.”
I do, and so does he. But Kaelen wipes them away, so gently that he only pulls more of them from my eyes. “When I was a child, I was told that witches could curse you. That they could command you to do things or feel things.”
We’ve stopped moving. Kaelen is looking down at me, and I’m looking up at him, and our lips are almost touching. “I’m starting to wonder if the stories were partly true. Because I feel things for you that are… unexplainable, Lyra.”
My stomach twists, somersaults, my breathing deepening. His thumb brushes my mouth. “If you have cursed me, I’ll accept the consequences with a smile.”
My mouth has turned to little more than dust. “But what about Eres? And Darian?”
His smile is pained. “I’m tired of pretending that my feelings don’t exist in an attempt to make the inevitable hurt less. It will hurt anyway. We have little time left, Lyra, and I would spend it with all of you.” He swallows. “If Darian will have me. I haven’t been a good friend to him.”
“Perhaps you should ask him, then.” My pulse flutters wildly. “When you see him.”
“I will.” Kaelen searches my face. “But right now, I’m most interested in your thoughts.”
“I…,” When I hesitate, his hands loosen.
“I understand.” He smiles once more, though those lines are gone from his eyes now. As if it doesn’t reach them. “Eres… he cares for you. And Darian too. I won’t stand in your way.”
No—
“People are leaving,” I blurt. “They're… finding partners.”
His eyes flicker. And his cheeks darken, pinking over as I stare at him. “To be expected. There’s much comfort to be found in a warm body.”
I’ve never found such, although I can only compare it to my experience with Cindral. “I don’t know what comfort there is to be found in it, but I’m glad that it works for them.”
Even if I find myself… curious. Almost longing for more touch. From Kaelen. From Eres, and Darian, who are somewhere in this room. I glance over my shoulder, searching for any sight of them in the crowd.
I wouldn’t mind being touched by them. Even for those parts, I would bear it. If it brought them pleasure. Kaelen isn’t moving. He studies me, a faint line appearing on his brow. “Why do you say that?”
“Because it hurts.” I blink at the expression that spreads over his face. The flush darkens further, his mouth pressing into a thin line.
“It does not hurt.” His hands tighten on me. “It should never hurt, Lyra.”
It should never hurt.
Just another lie. Something else they used to beat me with. Humiliation crawls over me, heating my body, and I attempt to pull away from Kaelen’s arms. Suddenly I don’t know what to do with my hands, or where to place my eyes. “Oh.”
He captures me again easily. Kaelen doesn’t say a single word. But his arms wrap around me once more, his hand cupping the back of my head as he pulls me into him.
And I hide myself in him. Press my face into his chest—that broad, thick chest that holds so many worries yet still makes space for this—and let my tears loose.
“I’m sorry.” The rough whisper reaches me as he strokes over my head again. “I would kill him again, if I could.”
“Lyra?” Eres’s voice pulls me from the void. “What’s wrong?”
I wipe at my eyes hastily. I don’t want to ruin this evening, not when it’s for them. “Nothing. You should both go back to… to what you were doing.”
“There is nothing more important than this,” Kaelen murmurs. He shifts, blocking both Eres and I from the wider room. Eres turns to me with concern, running his eyes over me in careful assessment. “Are you unwell?”
I shake my head. “Have you seen Darian?”
“He was behind me.” Eres looks over Kaelen’s shoulder. “Here he is now.”
Kaelen turns slowly, his eyes lingering on me.
Darian looks stiff, his eyes still shadowed. I suck in a breath, looking between them, and shift back toward Eres. His eyes narrow on me, and he keeps his voice low as he cups my cheek. “You’re alright?”
I nod. His arm slips around my waist, thumb running over my stomach as we both watch. It feels as if Eres is holding his breath.
Perhaps I am too.