Chapter 29 #2
For several seconds, rain tapping against the window was the only sound in the room.
I thought of Kieran in the southern ring.
Black leathers. Green-gray eyes. Everyone has consequences, Lyra.
The ease with which he spoke about Shadow history and Umbraeli records.
Old versions of the prophecy. Councils. Political families.
The way other Shadow wielders deferred to him without appearing to.
Neseryn. All the pieces I had noticed without ever bothering to assemble them. “He never told me.”
Vareena hesitated. “I assumed you knew.”
“Why would I know?”
“Because everybody knows who the Nyxaras are.”
“Everybody here also knows what Starborn means. That argument is becoming less convincing every time someone uses it.”
“Fair.”
I stood too quickly. My stitches pulled. I ignored them. “So when he said his secrets had consequences…”
“When did he say that?”
“Last night.”
“In here?”
“Yes.”
“While—”
“Finish that sentence and I’m putting the Codex back downstairs without telling you anything else.”
Her mouth closed. Barely.
I took over her pacing. “He is the son of the Shadow King.”
“Yes.”
“And he never thought that was worth mentioning.”
“I don’t know what Kieran thinks is worth mentioning.”
“Apparently very little.”
Vareena leaned against the bedpost. “Did you ever ask who his father was?”
“That is not the point.”
“It is a little bit the point.”
I stared at her. “You are supposed to be on my side.”
“I am on your side. That doesn’t require me to pretend you asked questions you didn’t.”
“I asked him about himself.”
“And?”
“He avoids answering. Usually he turns it back on me.”
“That I believe.”
“He’s supposed to be helping me tomorrow.”
“With what?”
“Finding answers about my mother. About where I came from. And why everyone seems to think Starborn belongs to me.”
Vareena straightened. “You’re investigating with him?”
“Yes.”
“I don’t know if that’s such a good idea.”
“You weren’t concerned five minutes ago.”
“I didn’t know five minutes ago. You failed to mention that the heir to Umbrael knows you found the actual Lumina Codex.”
I stopped. “Heir?”
She closed her eyes. “Oh, come on.”
“Vareena.”
“Yes. Heir. Prince. Whatever title Umbrael is using for him. Their succession isn’t as straightforward as Elyndor’s was, but Kieran is the king’s son.”
I sank onto the edge of my bed. “Prince.”
“Please don’t get stuck on that.”
“I’m not stuck on it.”
“You look stuck.”
“I’m revisiting several conversations.”
“That seems healthy.”
I gave her a look. She raised both hands.
“I’m done.”
I rubbed my palms over my face. Yesterday I’d been worried about surviving the Crucible. Tonight an ancient artifact was sitting on my blankets while I tried to process the fact that the man who had nearly kissed me was heir to Umbrael. “I hate this place.”
Vareena’s mouth twitched. “You say that a lot.”
“It keeps earning it.”
The Codex opened. Both of us stopped. The cover lifted without my hand anywhere near it, and several pages turned. Vareena slowly looked at me.
“Did you do that?”
“No.”
The pages settled on blank parchment. I moved closer. “What now?”
“I don’t know. I thought you said you don’t control it.”
“I don’t.” I put my palm against the page. Silver spread beneath my fingers, tracing patterns around the parchment’s edge. Then words appeared. Vareena leaned closer.
You have brought a witness.
She read it aloud. “You have brought a witness.”
I stared at her. “Usually it only does this for me.”
Vareena looked over. “Does what?”
“Talks to me.”
“You said that already.”
“No. I mean it talks to me.” I tapped my temple.
Vareena’s attention snapped fully to me. “In your head?”
“Yes.”
“And you waited until now to mention that?”
“There were a lot of things to mention.”
“That should have been near the top.”
The letters disappeared. Another sentence replaced them:
She would not have believed you.
Vareena leaned toward the page. “Can you hear me?”
Nothing.
She waited. The pages suddenly turned hard enough to stir the loose strands of hair around our faces. Vareena jerked backward. One page. Another. Then the Codex settled near its middle. A constellation spread across the parchment in fine silver strokes.
“I’ve seen that.”
I looked at her. “Where?”
“Old Elyndorian texts. Not exactly like this, but close.” She traced the air above the largest star without touching it. “My father had a version in one of his books.”
“The Starborn?”
“Yes.”
Wonderful. Apparently even the illustrations had been common knowledge. “What did his mean?”
“He disagreed with the notes beside it. The book claimed the central star represented Elyndor.”
“And your father?”
“Called the author a sanctimonious idiot.”
“I think I like your father.”
“You’d last ten minutes together.”
“That long?”
“On a good day.”
The constellation changed. A dark line emerged from the central star and threaded among the silver ones without erasing them, until both colors occupied the same design. My Shadow rune warmed beneath my clothes. Vareena glanced toward my hip.
“You felt that.”
“Mhm.”
She sat beside me. I rested my fingertips against the lower corner of the page. “Is this what you were trying to show me?” The parchment warmed. Then the voice came. Not inside my head. Into the room. Low enough that I felt it through the mattress before I understood the words.
Witness what has been forgotten.
Vareena grabbed my arm. I nearly knocked the Codex off the bed. We stared at one another.
“What the fuck was that?” she whispered.
“You heard it.”
“Yes, Lyra. I heard the ancient book speak from approximately six inches away from me.”
“I’ve never heard it do that.”
“That makes me feel so much better.”
The Codex remained open between us. Its silver markings brightened. Vareena regarded it more cautiously now.
“Does it usually sound like that?”
“No.”
“What does it usually sound like?”
Usually the voice was simply there, already inside my head. This one had come from the room. “I don’t know how to explain it. Usually it’s just… there.”
“That is a terrible explanation.”
“I warned you.”
Another page turned. Vareena flinched. Black ink began forming across the parchment. The first lines I knew. I had read them alone beneath the archives weeks ago.
Whispers speak of a child born beneath the shadows of starlight, a girl with the stars in her blood and the souls of worlds in her bones.
The next line followed.
Wrought from dusk and dawn, she was neither light nor dark—but both, and something more.
Vareena went still. “You’ve seen this before?”
“Yes.”
“How much?”
“That much.”
“And you didn’t know it was the Starborn prophecy.”
“I didn’t even know there was a Starborn prophecy.”
“This opening is old.”
“You know it?”
“Not really. I remember seeing it among my father’s books, but the wording was different.”
“Different how?”
“I was a child, Lyra.”
“Try.”
She gave me a look. “I was more interested in stealing honey cakes from the kitchens than memorizing pre-Sundering verse.”
The black writing blurred. The familiar lines disappeared as new words slowly replaced them.
She will rise when the realms tremble,
The ink paused. Vareena’s hand closed around mine. Another line formed:
and fall when the skies turn black.
I read it twice. Vareena didn’t move as the next line began:
She will love, and burn, and—
And stopped. I waited. Nothing. “Oh, you have got to be fucking kidding me.”
“Lyra.”
“No. It does this constantly.” I put my palm against the parchment.
“What comes next?” Nothing. “What does fall mean?” The unfinished line remained.
“Why do the skies turn black?” Still nothing.
“Is this about me?” The ink vanished. Bare parchment remained beneath my hand.
I gave a dry laugh. Vareena frowned at the page.
“Ask again.”
“I’ve learned that only encourages it.”
“Ask more clearly.”
“The Lumina Codex does not give a shit about clarity.”
“Try anyway.”
I looked down. “Am I the Starborn?” For several seconds, nothing happened. Then the silver markings along the page brightened. The voice filled the room again.
You ask for a name already written upon you.
Vareena’s fingers tightened around mine. I stared at the Codex. “For once, can you give me a damn answer without turning it into a riddle?” The pages slammed shut. Vareena jumped with me.
“That was absolutely an answer.”
“No. That was irritating ancient-book nonsense designed to sound like an answer.”