Chapter 5
Lunara’s hands moved of their own accord, the motion mindless.
The moonlight she’d grabbed glittered in the air before her as the beams concentrated into threads, which then spun themselves into yarn.
She tugged more of the glowing length towards herself, the opposite end floating up and waiting to be made into more when she was ready.
Not that she was really paying much attention to that.
No, her head was elsewhere as her hook bobbed.
She narrowed her eyes at the opposite wall of her cottage. At the countless books piled haphazardly on dusty shelves. At the trinkets shoved between them, bits and bobs from places she’d never been.
She looked lower, at the blankets and pillows and doilies strewn about the furniture—some her own creations, but most of them not—no rhyme or reason to their colorful mayhem.
At the mismatched tables with stacks of pictures drawn by tiny hands.
At the vase of eternal flowers that had been sitting there so long they would’ve died thousands of times in any other realm by now.
Payment for her services, every last thing, though she could hardly remember the faces of those who’d given them. Only fair, since none of them remembered her.
Even so, the people she’d healed seemed to know exactly what she liked, even if they didn’t really know her at all.
It’s better that way, and you know it.
Yes, she did. And she had no need for money anyway, which was why she didn’t accept it.
It didn’t change the dismal fact that she only had herself to talk to most days—or that she actually answered. That maybe said more about her than anything.
Again, good. Just as you wanted.
Lunara sighed and slumped back in her chair, sinking further into the cushions. The new position had the added benefit of changing her view from room to ceiling.
Huzzah.
Unfortunately, it meant that she was forced to acknowledge the cobwebs that had gathered since the last time she’d made herself clean. Didn’t matter that it would take a mere few minutes and a wave of her hand. It was convincing herself to do it in the first place that was the problem.
That, and the pain that would follow.
Well, more pain, and of a different sort. The kind that didn’t have anything to do with the twinges sparking in her joints after her healing the day before. Of course, the physical ailments could be easily remedied with a gift of blood.
No. Too dangerous.
But, if she only had a little, it would be okay. Just a sip to keep the aches at bay. No more than that.
No. It’s fine. You’re fine. Use a broom.
Lunara cranked her head around this way and that, the never-ending dimness of Nachthelliae doing absolutely nothing to help her locate said broom. She could get up and look, but that would require moving and what was the point?
It had been more than a year since anyone other than Cordelia had actually been inside her cottage. There was no one to impress. No one that would see or care.
Besides, she was busy. Her blankets wouldn’t weave themselves, after all.
Actually, they might be able to if she was willing to try.
Which she wasn’t. It was already a gamble to make them in the first place.
Don’t think about it, Lunara. Ignore, ignore, ignore.
Right.
She tossed her project aside with a huff, the moonlight detaching as soon as her hands left it. The pile of pale yarn looked so innocent there on the chair arm. Just another part of the mess.
It was mocking her, though, she was sure of it.
Her stomach conveniently rumbled, reminding her that it had been hours since she’d eaten. Or… had she eaten today? It was impossible to remember.
Probably not, then.
Either way, Lunara was grateful for the distraction. Pushing from her seat, she made for the tiny kitchen off the main room. She would just get a snack and then find that broom—
The hair on her arms stood on end as a ripple passed through her home.
No, no, no.
Someone was on her land. Someone powerful.
Alarm bells pealed through Lunara’s mind as her heart kicked up. Cordelia didn’t set off the warning when she came, and very few people knew exactly where she lived. Few meaning exactly what it meant. As in three. Total.
Unless it was them.
Shitting stars. Think. Think!
She reached out and grabbed an iron pan. The sheer weight of it was ridiculous, but she tried a practice swing anyway, nearly tossing the thing across the room when the handle slipped in her grasp.
What are you doing, you bumbling ninny? Use your magic!
Blessed moons, it was a wonder she was even still alive.
Lunara tossed the pan back onto the counter and rushed across the cottage, muttering under her breath. Light gathered on her fingertips as she reached the front door and pressed herself against it. Closing her eyes, she searched for her courage, chest heaving and body buzzing.
She would’ve sworn she’d been so careful, had hidden herself and her abilities well, but she must have slipped. Must have—
“Lunara! Are you here, lass?”
Her eyes snapped open at the rolling richness of that voice shouting from a distance. Dizzying relief suffused her veins in an instant and she nearly crumpled to the floor before whirling around to grab the knob.
From the porch, she scanned the luminescent landscape. Birds called and insects buzzed, the twin moons hanging heavy in their river of stars overhead. No one was there, and the path to the portal that disappeared around the side of the cottage was undisturbed.
“Thaddeus?” she called, suddenly unsure she’d heard him.
He tore around the bend in a dead sprint a second later, kicking up sparkling turquoise dust, not stopping until he practically slammed into the column holding the roof above her. “Aye. It’s me,” he said, hands on his knees.
Lunara hadn’t thought to ever lay eyes on the young Wolflord again. It had been a dreadful day the last time she’d seen him—one she’d rather forget.
As would he, she’d imagine.
“I’m sorry to come barging in like this, but you’re needed. Right away.”
She blinked at his words. “Needed?”
“Aye. Urgently.”
Her first thought was for his father, and worry seized her. “Is it Caius? Did something happen?”
Thaddeus waved that away. “Ach, no. He’s well. I’m to bring you back with me to Straelon, sent by the Demon King himself.”
“The Demon King?” she shrieked, voice too loud as a hysterical laugh escaped her.
It had to be some kind of prank.
The Thaddeus that had shown up on her doorstep last year, demanding admittance to see his ailing mother, had turned out to be a wonderful nuisance. He’d gotten up to all sorts of tricks to make everyone smile.
Lunara crossed her arms and raised a brow, sure she’d caught him. “You want me to drop everything and go to the Montrealm with you right now?”
Thad straightened, throwing his shoulders back. “That is where Lyriat resides,” he answered, voice rumbling low.
There was no quirk of the lip, no dancing amusement in his eyes. He just stood there, still as stone and staring.
Stars above, he was dead serious.
A cloud of terror descended over her as she retreated a step. “Oh. No,” she rasped. “You don’t understand. I’ve never… I can’t…”
There was a reason she’d stayed holed up in her cottage, lost in the midnight wilds. Why she did everything she could to avoid rumors and prying eyes, and had never set a foot outside of Nachthelliae.
“A person’s been tortured, Lunara. Torn to pieces. He’ll not last the day without you.”
She snapped her gaze up, unable to deny the spark of purpose that flared within her.
“What happened?”
Stars and arses. You’ve lost your bleeding mind.
Thaddeus exhaled, gripping his nape. “A Demon returned this morning missing half of his flesh. Horns gone, no tongue. I’m honestly not sure how he managed to get himself through the portal. He was still alive when I left, but unconscious and fading fast.”
Duty called out to her but—
No. Someone will see. Someone will tell them.
Her mind and heart clashed, waging war in the deepest parts of her.
Fool, you shouldn’t have asked. Now you feel obligated, and for what? You’ll be risking everything!
And yet, she couldn’t fathom hearing of another’s suffering, being asked so pointedly for help, and choosing to do nothing. It would make her like the very monsters she wished to avoid, if she did.
Thaddeus must have seen the wavering on her face. He drew closer and held her hand in his own. “Please, lass. We need answers we can’t get if he’s dead. It has to be you.”
Sometimes, Lunara would swear she could feel the universe holding its breath, waiting to shift one way or another, its fate in her hands—which she knew was completely absurd. She didn’t matter nearly that much.
But this was such a time, when that stillness settled into her. A quiet certainty not even her worst fears could counter.
“Alright. I’ll do it.”
Before she could talk herself out of it, Lunara left Thad on the porch and rushed into the dark interior of her cottage, grabbing various things as she moved.
She probably could have reached for them through the ether later, but there was no telling how much power it would take to heal the Demon. She needed to reserve every drop.
Agreeing to her first foray out of the Evesong was enough drama for Lunara. She wouldn’t risk feeding in a strange place with people she didn’t know on top of it.
She jerked to a stop mid-step just inside her bedroom door, arms full and chest constricting as she took it in.
More books lay about, open to the pages she’d left off.
Half-done projects cluttered here and there.
The bed that hugged her like a lover and never failed to keep her warm.
A round window with its velvet seat, overlooking the blooming garden she couldn’t tame.
It was a mess, but it was her mess and she was leaving it. Just like that.
It’s only for a day or two. You’ll be back before the dust settles.
“I wouldn’t be so sure,” another voice—one that assuredly wasn’t her own—whispered in the recesses of her mind.