Chapter 29 #3
“Lyra.”
“I asked yes or no.”
“I don’t think prophecy books are known for their commitment to clarity.”
“You’re telling me.” I tried the cover. It refused to move. “Open.”
Vareena caught my wrist. “Leave it.”
I sat back. The new lines remained lodged in my head. She will rise when the realms tremble, and fall when the skies turn black. Fall could mean half a dozen things. I refused to settle on the one Vareena was clearly thinking too.
“We are not deciding what that means tonight,” she said.
“I wasn’t.”
“You were.”
I looked at her.
“It gave you a few lines from a prophecy with dozens of known versions, half of which contradict one another. Tomorrow you’re going through the archives. Start there before you decide the sky turning black means your funeral.”
“I never said funeral.”
“You didn’t have to.”
I looked at the closed Codex.
“You’re still going with him tomorrow?”
Kieran’s surname landed differently now. Nyxara. Son of the Shadow King. Heir to Umbrael. The man who had spent last night between my knees and this afternoon refusing to kiss me. Gods. “Yes.”
Vareena studied me. “I’m not telling you not to trust him.”
“That sounded very much like the beginning of you telling me not to trust him.”
“I’m telling you that you should have known who he was before deciding whether to.”
That was considerably harder to argue with. “He could have exposed my Shadow weeks ago.”
“I know.”
“He didn’t. He’s helped me.”
“I know that too.”
“You’re being irritatingly reasonable.”
She ignored that. “Kieran may care what happens to you. I think he does.”
I looked at her. She lifted one shoulder.
“But he is still a Nyxara,” she continued. “Whatever his relationship with his father looks like, he’s spent his entire life inside Umbrael’s politics. That matters.”
I thought of every time Kieran had gone quiet when I pushed too far. Every careful answer that stopped just before whatever he didn’t want me to know. “You think he wants the Codex.”
“I don’t know what he wants.”
Neither did he, according to last night. That memory was decidedly unhelpful. Vareena looked toward the book.
“If every Council and kingdom in Alareth has searched for this thing, be careful about who learns you can walk into the archives and speak to it.”
“He already knows.”
“Then he already knows.”
No accusation. Only fact. I rubbed my thumb along the seam of my trousers. “I asked him to help me find my mother.”
“You asked?”
“Kind of. Part of it was asking. The other part was threatening to do it myself until he agreed.”
“That is more concerning.”
“Why?”
“Because Kieran Nyxara volunteers for nothing.”
“You barely know him.”
“I know enough.”
“So do I.”
The answer came too quickly. Vareena noticed. I pretended she hadn’t. After a moment, she spoke again.
“Then I’m coming.”
I blinked. “Tomorrow?”
“Yes.”
“With Kieran and me.”
“That is generally what coming means.”
“Why?”
Vareena looked at the closed Codex between us.
“Because you found that thing during your first week here. It knew enough to call you Starborn before you even knew what the word meant, and now it has shown both of us a prophecy that appears to be talking about you. You’re searching for answers about your mother.
My father trained here during the same years as Aurenya and Maerox, and he kept half of Elyndor’s political history in our house whether anyone wanted it there or not.
If those archives contain old Elyndorian records, I might actually recognize something useful. ”
I stared at her.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“No. That face means something.”
I looked away. “You’re helping.”
“Obviously. Why wouldn’t I?”
I looked back at her. “You’re right. Who would let their best friend search old archives with the son of the Shadow King?”
Vareena went still. It took me another second to hear what I’d said.
Best friend. She had called me that yesterday when she threatened Damon, as casually as though there had never been a question.
I hadn’t said it back. Until now. For a moment, I thought of Irelia.
Not dying. Sitting on the fence outside Maia’s cottage with one boot missing because she’d lost it in the creek and refused to explain how.
Stealing half my breakfast and calling it payment for the privilege of her company.
Back when best friend had been an ordinary thing to say.
After Edenlo, I had stopped believing the words could belong anywhere else.
Vareena drew a breath. I pointed at her. I pointed at her. “Don’t.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
I rolled my eyes, though they had begun to ache for reasons I had no intention of discussing.
Vareena reached over and took my hand. She didn’t make a speech.
She simply held it. Tomorrow we would start digging through old records with Kieran Nyxara, apparently prince of fucking Umbrael.
Tonight Vareena sat beside me with her hair falling out of its knot, one hand wrapped around mine, willing to walk straight into whatever mess came next.
My best friend.