Chapter 56
Stepping into the night-shrouded Evesong—directly into its capital—was one of the hardest things Lunara had ever done. Like she was leaving Brand behind with every added inch between her and the portal, though the entire purpose of coming here was to do whatever it took to find him again.
A practice in torture.
A tug at her sleeve, and Lunara looked over to see Fern gaping, mesmerized as her steps slowed. She wished she could see Nachthelliae that way again, through fresh eyes. Could behold Starkeep with none of her history and feel the same awe.
It was a truly stunning place.
Galaxies flowed like a river above them, cutting through the black of night and casting their light down over the cityscape. In answer, the buildings and streets hummed with a vibrant glow, everything crafted of glimmering moonstone that sparkled in rainbow prisms like the skin of her people.
Sharp, needle-like spires shot out from the rooftops and reached for the cosmos, stacked in endless, crowded layers. They stretched higher and tighter with each level of the city streets, thinning out to a single peak at the very center.
The Elder Halls. Illamiata’s resting place.
From the top of that tower, one could look out and behold the Evesong, dark and vast, every acre twinkling with luminescent flora and fauna.
It was a dizzying view, even for experienced Sorcerit.
Up was down, down was up, the sky and the ground mirroring each other so closely that it distorted perception and twisted the mind.
Others, creatures who’d never been and didn’t know, might climb up to look out for the first time and be utterly petrified when they realized the truth—that Starkeep hovered in thin air, jutting up like a mountaintop missing its base, the entire city suspended miles and miles above the shadowy forests below.
All to be closer to the celestial light the Evesong and its people fed from.
Lunara fucking hated it here.
“This is your home?”
Lunara threw a glance over her shoulder to check the progress of their companions. Brand’s brothers had insisted on coming. On being here for her when he couldn’t. It was enough to bring her to her knees, going from no one to the entire Imperial Family calling her their own.
Are you sure you should trust it? Are you sure that it’s true?
She wasn’t. Not yet. Not… quite.
Magnus and Thaddeus were a few yards back, dodging the crowd that was ever near the Upper Portal, Araxis just behind. Vann came through next, followed by Amal. The ajma darted her keen eyes over everything, spear at the ready as Amunkar entered behind her.
All far enough away that they shouldn’t be able to witness her seemingly speaking to no one.
“You don’t have to whisper, Fern,” she said out of the corner of her mouth. “I’m the only one who can see and hear you. Just stay close and try not to run into anyone. And no, this is not my home. Not anymore.”
Home was smiling hazel eyes and fiery hair. Home was the way he said her name and stole her breath. Home was missing.
Gone. Gone. Gone.
As far as anyone knew, Lunara had put Fern back into a deep sleep to help her mind heal, and had been left behind on her stone pallet.
With any luck, the spell she’d set on the Fae’s room might help them identify the one who’d harmed her.
Who’d massacred an entire village and lured them to the aftermath. Who’d probably helped to steal Brand.
She wanted to see their likeness so she could ruin them.
Magnus reached her side, eyes dancing over the space around her. “All is well, witchling?”
He was the only one who knew what she’d done with Fern. He’d howled with laughter when she’d told him about her antics at that first dinner, and later with Brand at the Occurrence. A relief, to see him mischievous again, if only briefly.
One of them needed to smile, and she didn’t have it in her.
He’d supported her plan wholeheartedly, but they’d both been worried the spell might break through the portal crossing. Hence the anxious look in his eyes.
“Perfect.” She nodded her head towards Fern to show him where she was.
His shoulders slumped. “Thank the Sisters.”
“I really wish he’d tell me who the fuck he’s always talking to,” Fern muttered, her brown eyes focused intently on Magnus. “It’s irritating to hear only one side of a conversation, especially when it’s about me half the pissing time.”
Lunara had no idea what she was talking about. “What do you mean?”
Fern blinked at her for a second before sighing. “Please tell me I’m not the only one hearing a disembodied voice whenever his arse is around.”
No way.
Before she could respond and find out whether that voice was the same as her own, a crotchety grumble reached her ears.
“I was sure you’d be halfway up the spire by now, Moonweaver.”
Lunara’s heart stopped and thudded over, galloping when it resumed its beating. Seeing her would make it real. Would make it so there was no going back.
She turned and found Cordelia, of all people, holding fast to Araxis as they approached, her arm looped through his.
Her hair, pure and white as starlight, was braided into a thick rope over her shoulder.
She was mindlessly running her fingers down the plait as if it were some kind of pet, and Lunara had the sudden, disjointed thought that perhaps Cordelia was where she’d picked up the habit of twisting her own curls.
“I’m told you’ve come to claim your rightful place.” She stopped in front of Lunara, a head shorter, and peered up. “Good. About time.”
So few words, and yet there was so fucking much to unpack from them.
“About time?”
Oh, sure. You’ve not seen her in years, and that’s what you lead with?
A year. And yes. Fewer words were better where Cordelia was concerned. It hurt less.
Stormy eyes perused her. That they looked glassy and hopeful must’ve been a trick of the light. “Don’t you remember this wasn’t here before?” She grabbed Lunara’s hand in hers, twisting her palm up and running a finger along that one strange freckle on the inside of her wrist.
The one Brand had been so drawn to the day they’d formally met, his thumb passing back and forth over the spot and making her shiver. The one he’d kissed so many times since then.
She had to fight not to snatch away from Cordelia’s touch. “That’s always been there,” she argued, hardly able to understand how she’d gotten here. How she was even having this conversation.
“No.” Cordelia dropped her hand, her eyes closing. “I remember the shock of seeing it there like it was yesterday, your arm raised to hold the door open when you finally let me in the first time—years after he was already dead—glaring like a beacon. The mark of a Keeper.”
Her voice was hardly audible, but Lunara still jolted and looked around to see if anyone had heard. She was here to claim the stone and its power, not announce herself.
The second the terror wore off, Cordelia’s words sank in. “You knew?”
Lunara examined the oblong spot, mind racing, only just realizing the fleck looked alarmingly similar to a large teardrop.
“I did, and I’ve never breathed a word. I had my reasons. And before that, I knew you were special. Different, in all the ways that mattered.” Cordelia stepped closer and reached up to cup Lunara’s cheek. “Araxis has told me everything. I’m here to help.”
They shouldn’t be having this conversation, not where anyone might hear, but she couldn’t bring herself to break away. To detach herself from a moment that felt a whole lot like she was healing from something.
String music started up and floated on the air from somewhere nearby as Vann, Amal, and Amunkar finally joined them.
The crowd swelled as more and more people poured in from the portal, making their way to dinner or the theater.
Some headed towards it, jumping right through or stopping at one of the many stalls selling tolls.
No matter which direction they were going, nearly all of them took a stumbling moment to gape at her companions.
“We have to move,” she said, nodding at Cordelia. “If you’re here to help, then you know I can’t be found out. Not yet. I have to take it and go.”
Cordelia gave her a pat, tucking her hair away. “We’ll figure out the rest later, as we always have.”
Swallowing, Lunara picked her way through the surging mass, leading the others past countless Nachthellians in their finest robes or glittering dresses.
When she reached the central fountain—a grotesque thing depicting the Star Goddesses on their weeping deathbed as it rose up—she climbed the steps to its rounded oasis.
There were far less people milling around the marble monstrosity, and it would be easier for them to talk.
Conversations over wine and under the stars filtered up to her from the outdoor restaurants, rife with tittered laughter and vapid murmurings. The sound of it made her skin crawl.
Lunara could probably throw a stone and hit her childhood home from here. Or, the rebuilt tower that’d replaced it.
Thad plopped down onto the fountain’s edge with a contented sigh. Unbeknownst to anyone but Lunara, Fern hopped up too and crouched beside him, a thoughtful look on her face as she beheld the young wolflord.
“I fucking love Starkeep,” Thad said, splashing the water and wholly unaware that a Fae was only inches away from his own face.
“Makes one of us,” Lunara mumbled, crossing her arms.
Thad gasped dramatically. “How could you not?” he demanded, incredulous. “No matter what time it is, there’s that evening promise in the air. A dark frivolity, waiting at the edges to snatch you up and carry you away. It’s perfect.”
“It’s wretched,” she countered. “And weren’t you forbidden from being here?”
He waved her jab away. “I left a note. Besides, Da’s so overwhelmed with everything, he’ll never even notice I’m gone.”
Thad held Fern’s attention for about ten seconds before she stood and began pacing, dipping her booted toe into the fountain and glancing up at Magnus every so often.
“We need a plan.”