Chapter 10
TEN
Nova
“Your brother will not be pleased,” Eamon said, frowning as he lifted my wrist again, turning it over and inspecting the mark Lorien had left behind.
“The understatement of a lifetime.” I fixed my gaze, not on the mark, but on my bed, where Aleks was resting peacefully.
I still couldn’t believe I’d managed to bring him back.
It had been a minor ordeal, slipping him quietly into the palace in the dead of night—one that had involved a grumpy Phantom and an incredulous Thalia.
They’d helped me carry him and distract the servants and guards we encountered, but we’d still attracted too much attention.
Whispers about what I’d done were already flying, most likely; I was surprised Bastian wasn’t already knocking on my door, demanding answers.
Eamon, meanwhile, had been minding his own business, still awake and busy translating Midnasian texts—as he so often was here lately—when I’d stumbled past his room supporting a half-conscious Aleks on my shoulder.
He’d followed us like a curious puppy who’d caught an interesting scent, and now he wouldn’t leave my side.
Not that I was complaining. Because if anybody could help me puzzle through the strange things Lorien had said and done, it would be Eamon.
He followed my gaze, frowning in Aleksander’s direction. “And I have to say, this seems a bit reckless, even for you.”
“Did you really have to say that?”
His frown deepened as he returned his attention to the mark on my wrist. He spent a long moment tracing it, during which I grew more and more tense.
I was desperate for him to give me more details, more lectures—anything.
His silence was disconcerting; he always had something to say when it came to magic.
“Well?” I pressed, nervously. “What do you make of it?”
“I…don’t know.” The words sounded strange, coming from him.
“This is beyond my knowledge, Nova. Likely beyond anyone’s knowledge.
This isn’t typical Vaeloran magic; we’re way past that.
And if the curse Lorien spoke of is real, if Calista laid her own corrupted magic over him, then the powers we’re dealing with are… ” He trailed off, shaking his head.
He wasn’t even attempting optimism, for once.
Another knot joined the impressive collection I already had in my stomach.
“…He didn’t just speak of it, Eamon,” I said, fighting to keep my voice steady. “I saw the very moment Calista struck him with it. And my visions have usually been trustworthy in the past.”
His attention shifted from my wrist to my sword, which I’d propped next to the window.
He moved toward it. Meanwhile, I could barely stand to look in its direction; it had felt unbalanced ever since Lorien had seemingly bound his life force to it.
I was just waiting for him to shatter it—like he’d done to its counterpart, Luminor—or to do something even worse.
Picking it up, Eamon carefully unsheathed and studied the blade. Normally, its dark steel only pulsed with twists of smoky-white energy. But now there were jagged lines of light blue occasionally disrupting it. It was like watching two storms battling for dominance over the midnight sky.
Quietly, I asked, “Do you think it’s ruined?”
“…Both sides of Vaeloran magic are rooted in the same power, so it’s certainly not a given that they’ll destroy one another. In fact, given enough time to properly combine, it could potentially make Grimnor stronger.”
My chest tightened at the thought of gaining strength from the likes of Lorien.
“There are even some legends that say Grimnor and Luminor were once a singular blade,” Eamon added. “Verinor, the True Blade, which was broken. None of the stories can agree on how, but they all say that pieces of it were used to forge the two separate weapons.”
“I can’t imagine he intended to help forge Grimnor into something stronger. There’s a catch, I’m sure.”
“Well, the catch is that he needs you to go on this little restoration quest for him, right?”
I think I was still in denial about that part, so I said nothing.
“It seems like a desperate move, binding himself to Grimnor. To you. And to even reveal this curse, this weakness…” Eamon paused, considering. “I can’t think of a reason he would do that, unless he truly did believe you were his only hope.”
I walked over and took the sword from him, sliding it back into its casing. Gripping the red gemstones on its hilt caused a crooked bolt of cobalt to crackle around the blade. I did my best to ignore the ensuing tingle of warm energy that trailed up my arm.
It felt…wrong.
Looking out the window, I quickly found a distraction: The sky was lightening in the distance, and not merely because of the approaching dawn.
It was because of magic.
Magic that was coming from the Above.
From Midna.
Standing in the palace, I couldn’t see the distant land beneath the lighter sky, but I suspected—hoped—that the increased magic was having a positive, rejuvenating effect on Noctaris.
Though my body desperately needed sleep, I was already planning to go inspect it for myself as soon as possible.
Maybe there would be enough new life to silence my doubters for a while.
Plus, my brother couldn’t be furious with my risky decisions if they’d led to more rebirth, right?
Never mind how they’d led to it.
Eamon was staring at the distant, potential sign of hope, too. “Whatever comes next,” he said after a minute, “it seems the flow of energy is reacting to the closer alignment of you two. So that’s a gift, at least.”
A gift.
I wanted to believe that.
But it felt more like Lorien was taunting me, dangling a sign of what could be, if only I managed to hold up my end of our bargain.
Aleks stirred, suddenly. He rolled over with a cough, his hand feeling for the glass of water beside the bed. He managed to take a sip and to clear his throat. My name tumbled from his lips a moment later.
My heart leapt at the sound.
Eamon glanced back and forth between us. “I’ll leave you two alone, shall I?”
“…Yes. Thank you.”
He gave a small bow before slipping out of the room. As soon as he was gone, the space seemed to shrink, some unseen force pinching in and pushing me toward the bed.
I was afraid, bracing myself for whatever lingering effects Lorien had left, but I made myself keep moving.
As I settled onto the edge of the mattress, Aleks slowly blinked his eyes open. Then tightly closed them. Again and again, he did this, until he finally seemed to accept that he was truly seeing me.
“I’m in your room,” he mumbled. “In the Rivenholt Palace.”
“Yes.”
“How long have I been…”
“Not long. A couple of hours.”
“No. I mean…how long…how long did he…”
“Oh.” My mouth felt incredibly dry, all of a sudden. “Four weeks, give or take.”
His brow creased as he shut his eyes tighter, as though trying to squeeze the memory of those weeks from his mind.
I was tempted to do the same.
Words slurring a bit, he asked, “How did you drive him out?”
I couldn’t bring myself to answer.
“Nova.” He clenched a fistful of the bedding, as though bracing himself. “What did you do?”
I gave him a tired smile. “Something chaotic, of course.”
It took a long moment, but he finally returned my smile with a weak, crooked little one of his own.
Gods, I’d missed that smile.
It was gone quickly, replaced by a serious expression that made my heart sink in my chest. His eyes fluttered open only to fix on the ceiling, cold and calculating.
That look reminded me of the Aleks I’d first met in this realm.
Back when we were both desperate, angry, and confused, with far more questions than answers about our future.
It was hard not to feel like we were back there, standing at the beginning with nothing except darkness ahead and curses looming above.
“How do you feel?” I asked.
He didn’t reply.
Maybe it was a stupid question. The answer was obvious enough to guess: Like shit. But I struggled to think of anything else to ask, anything comforting to say.
I slipped a hand under the covers, finding his and weaving our fingers together.
“I feel…hollow,” he finally replied, his gaze flicking briefly toward me. “Like he’s gone, but he took pieces of me with him. Pieces I should have been able to hold on to.”
I inwardly recoiled at the thought. Outwardly, I remained calm, intertwining my fingers more completely with his. That didn’t feel like enough, though, so I crawled into the bed beside him and pressed my body into his, as though I could anchor us both, somehow.
Not long after, he fell back into a fitful sleep.
I lay awake, knowing it was only a matter of time before I had to leave the relative safety of this space. Before everyone in this palace would be waking up with all of their questions and expectations for me.
My fingers absently brushed through the messy, pale waves of Aleksander’s hair. I would have sworn I could hear his thoughts when I touched him like this, as if the Vaeloran bond that had heightened when Lorien took over still remained.
Like my own, his head seemed to be filled with a tumbling mass of questions with no clear beginning or ending.
He never managed to fall into a true, deep slumber.
Eventually, he gave up, dragging himself upright and leaning against the headboard instead. He pulled me to his chest. It was bare, and slightly damp with sweat—he’d been feverish ever since we returned to Noctaris—but I didn’t care that his skin was almost unbearably hot to the touch.
I would have stayed against him even if it burned me alive.
Still, I couldn’t make myself relax as I so often had in his embrace. In hot, uncertain silence, we watched the sunrise painting the walls in deep shades of crimson and gold, until I finally gained the courage to ask, “Do you remember anything that happened in Midna?”
He shifted, bracing himself more completely against the headboard. His arms tightened around me, his heat searing into my back.