Chapter 40
LYRA
The Sanctum had begun dressing itself for Solstice.
Silver lanterns floated beneath the western colonnade, wintervine wound through old stone arches, and hammered gold caught the dying light along the balustrades.
It should have been beautiful. Instead, all I could think about was how many people would soon fill these halls.
Candidates. Instructors. Council representatives.
Visiting dignitaries already arriving from the elemental territories.
Halos had spent half the day deciding whether I was dangerous enough to restrict, and now the Sanctum was preparing to gather hundreds of people around wine.
By evening, it had already settled back into its usual rhythm, as though the Council review were another interruption to be absorbed and forgotten.
I was rereading the transcript Damon sent when Vareena found me by the western windows.
She had changed out of her training clothes, though sweat still darkened her collar.
In one hand, she held a thick envelope sealed in pale gold wax. “My father answered.”
That got my attention faster than anything in the transcript had. “When did you write to him?”
“After we left the restoration room.” She handed me the envelope without opening it. “The courier arrived during my afternoon session. He must have responded the same day he received the request.”
I turned the seal over.
The Kamari family mark had been pressed beside the smaller insignia of the current Light Council. Vareena leaned against the window frame. “I asked about palace household registers, old Aurora copies, and whether the Council kept duplicates of anything that survived the fall.”
The seal cracked beneath my thumb.
Inside was a short letter and three copied references written in a smaller hand. I read the letter first.
Vareena,
The surviving palace index is not reliable for the period you asked about.
Do not waste time treating it as complete.
Compare the royal household authorizations against the Aurora attendance rolls from the final two years before the fall, particularly entries filed under domestic provisioning rather than magical instruction.
The Council duplicate is cleaner, though not untouched.
There should also be a restoration register attached to the old palace copies. If Damon has access, make him find it.
Do not assume absence means destruction. Sometimes records were moved because someone wanted them to survive.
—Father
I read the last sentence again.
Vareena noticed. “He writes like that about everything.”
“Like what?”
“Like every answer is a lesson I was supposed to have learned years ago.”
I handed the letter back. “Why domestic provisioning?”
“That’s what I wondered.” Her father had not explained. The copies beneath the letter were index references, not documents themselves. Two pointed to royal household authorizations held in Council storage. The third was an old Aurora registry number.
A fourth line had been written below them in different ink.
Do not trust the palace transcription dated after the fall. Compare the stitching.
I looked at Vareena. She frowned.
“Does he know Lidia?”
“No.”
“Then how does he know the stitching matters?”
“He doesn’t. Not specifically.” She read the note again.
“Restoration was common after the palace archives were recovered. He might mean the bindings generally.” That was reasonable.
It was also oddly specific. Before I could sit with it long enough to make myself uncomfortable, Damon appeared at the far end of the colonnade carrying two document cases under one arm.
He had abandoned the formal white-and-gold robes from the review, though the Council pin remained at his collar.
Damon handed me the smaller case. “Your transcript. Complete copy, including Halos’s objections to giving you a complete copy.”
I opened it enough to see several sheets inside. “He actually objected in writing?”
“He has a talent for preserving his irritation for future generations.”
Vareena tucked her father’s letter away before Damon came close enough to read it. His attention lingered on the envelope for no more than a second.
The larger case remained under his arm. I nodded toward it. “And that?”
“Work.”
“That’s vague.”
“It was meant to be.” He rested the case against the stone ledge and adjusted the strap. “The Council reopened several pre-fall files after this morning’s review. The crowned projection made it difficult to justify leaving anything tied to the old royal household untouched.”
Vareena and I exchanged a look.
Damon noticed that too. “What?”
“Nothing.”
“That answer usually means the opposite.”
I closed the transcript case. “What did you find?”
“I didn’t say I found anything.”
“You brought it up.”
“I said files were reopened.” There was no teasing in him today.
He sounded tired. I waited. Damon gave in first. “The Council has duplicate palace indexes, old household authorizations, and a restoration register from the first archive recovery after the fall. Most of it is dull. Some of it is inconsistent.”
“How inconsistent?”
He studied me for a beat. “Enough that I’m requesting another comparison set.”
Vareena leaned one shoulder against the stone. “Can Lyra see any of it?”
Damon’s eyes narrowed slightly, “She can see anything attached to the inquiry into the crowned projection. That does not mean I’m handing over unrestricted Council archives.”
“I didn’t ask for unrestricted access.”
“No. You tend to ask after you’ve already found the door.” He shifted the larger case and then, perhaps deciding something, opened one clasp.
Inside were copied pages rather than originals. “I can give you these. Household authorizations, duplicate attendance indexes, and part of the first restoration inventory. They were already cleared for review because they touch the same period Halos and the Council are examining.”
I took the copies.
Damon kept one hand on the case. “Before you disappear with them, understand this. I’m not doing this because I’ve decided your private investigation is harmless.”
The phrase sharpened my attention. “What private investigation?”
His mouth almost curved. “Exactly.” Damon continued.
“I am investigating what happened in the Crucible. The Council is investigating why old Elyndorian imagery appeared around you and why a ward designed for containment entered recognition behavior. If the records help you with some answers you need for yourself, fine. But if you find anything that changes the meaning of what happened in that arena, I expect to know.”
“That sounds a lot like a condition.”
“It is.”
I held the copied records against my side. “And if I don’t agree?”
“Then I keep the next set.” At least he was honest. I thought of Kieran telling me Damon’s talent was making people volunteer information.
Damon rarely pushed hard enough to make refusal feel necessary. That was the point. “I’ll tell you if I find anything relevant to the Crucible.”
He noticed the distinction and chose not to press it. “Good enough for now.”
Then he looked at Vareena. “Is your father still on Council rotation this month?”
“As far as I know. You see him more than me, remember.”
“I would argue that we see him about the same amount. I may need his approval for one of the sealed duplicates.”
Vareena’s hand moved toward the pocket holding the letter, then stopped. “He’ll answer if you send it.”
“I’ll do that then.” He closed the case and left us with the copies. Neither of us spoke until he disappeared around the far arch.
Vareena looked down at the records in my arms. “You realize he gave us exactly what Father told us to compare.”
“I noticed.”
“That’s irritating.”
“Everything is irritating today.”
She took half the stack. “Come on.”
“Where?”
“Somewhere Damon isn’t.”
The old western restoration room had begun to feel less forbidden and more familiar.
That was likely dangerous in itself. The damaged wall map still hung beneath protective glass at one end, showing corridors that no longer existed and rooms the Sanctum had apparently decided to forget.
Two restoration lamps burned low over the long table.
Their warm light did little to soften the stone.
By the time everyone arrived, Solstice bells were sounding somewhere outside.
Not the celebration itself. Preparatory bells. Three low notes that carried through the mountain while servants and ward-masters began sealing ceremonial routes for the coming festivities.
Dax was halfway through complaining about them when Lidia walked in and tossed a leather tool roll onto the table. “If you say one more thing about how long formal clothes take to put on, I’m setting yours on fire.”
“I was discussing the oppressive expectations placed upon men.”
“You were discussing buttons.”
“Exactly.” Lidia ignored him. Things between us had eased since the confrontation in our room, though the ease did not feel identical to what we had before. I had stopped expecting it to.
She came to stand beside me and looked over the copied Council records. “These are from Damon?”
“Copies he was cleared to give me.”
“So he knows we’re doing this?”
“No.”
Her eyes lifted. “He knows I’m looking at old Elyndorian material because he is looking at old Elyndorian material. That is all.”
“Okay.” No one argued. Damon might be useful. That did not make him ours. Raiden arrived with Emrin a few minutes later, his injured shoulder stiff beneath his shirt. He carried a red-edged response from Cindralith; Emrin had a folded courier notice tucked under one arm.