CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
Thomas’s fingers stroked my hair as we sat together. I nestled closer, inhaling the familiar smell of ink and parchment.
I’d missed it.
My scalp tingled with his steady touch.
“Tell me about your father.”
I gave him a look. The request felt sudden and prying.
But something heavy weighed in his eyes, so different than the spark I’d seen the last time I was awake.
“That day by the pond. You said your father had died. I…” he stopped, his jaw clenching. “I have many regrets about that day. About many days I spent with you, in the before.”
I stared at the ceiling, confusion and grief stirring with me. “It’s alright,” I said.
“It’s not. I was awful to you, Lyra. And I’ve read your letter. The real one—Mrs. Calloway gave it to me.”
Dust floated in the air above us, dancing in the light.
“You have to realize… you’re brilliant, Lyra. You could do so much better than a recluse like me.”
I searched his face. His eyes glinted behind his glasses as his fingers curled around my blanket. “Thomas, I thought we already decided I make my own decisions. That I love you. And you should really get some sleep.”
He ran a hand down his face. “You don’t understand, Lyra. You taught me more about the world than any book ever could. I’ve been a fool.”
I reached out, placing my hand upon his. He wrapped his fingers around mine. “We both have,” I said. “You’ve been under a lot of pressure for so much of your life, from the king and your brother. I didn’t understand…”
His thumb stroked the back of my hand, sending tingles through me.
“I think at the beginning, it was my own fault. I was only eleven when Evelina passed. I wasn’t close to her like Teddy was.
I didn’t have high hopes for her like father.
It’s as if I didn’t fully understand what was happening at the time. ”
“You were too young to comprehend what her death meant.”
“I couldn’t comfort either of them. I was too childish to help. But I had magic.”
His expression grew distant, as if trapped in memories from years ago.
“I volunteered for this. I wanted to be the one to cure the plague, to find its cause. I wanted to travel to Junira at fifteen to get a headstart on my studies, even if it meant I was alone. I did this to myself.”
“Your family shouldn’t have let you take on the burden,” I said. “No one can carry that all on their own.”
His hand cupped my face, rubbing my cheek, before it fell away.
“I didn’t realize until I got there, surrounded by piles of books, that even with my newfound purpose, I would feel so lonely.
I spent so many days crying alone in my tower, trapped in a foreign land where all the other students both envied and hated me. ”
My heart cracked. “Did you ever tell anyone?”
He sighed. “I tried to bring the matter up with my father, to explain I’d changed my mind, but how could I? What kind of selfish ruler abandons their pursuit of a much-needed cure?”
“Yes, but at what cost?”
“It’s no matter now. I’ve grown to enjoy it there enough. At least, enough to finish my treatise.”
“You shouldn’t have come back early,” I said, but my voice choked. It was a lie—I needed him here. Asha needed him here to be healthy again.
“I had to,” he said.
“You lost your chance to present at the conference, to get an offer for the Mage Council. You’ll have to start the year all over again—”
His hand squeezed mine, and my sentence trailed off at the look in his eyes.
“And I’d give it all up again for the chance to bring you even the smallest glimpse of joy.”
My words failed me, my heart fluttering.
“You have to know, you have to,” he said, bringing my hand to his lips.
His mouth pressed against the back of it, soft and warm.
Longing coursed through me. “You must know that you are worth repeating the year for. You’re worth the lost treatise.
You’re worth attending every silly ball my brother throws, and you’re worth every pint of blood I gave to make a potion I wasn’t sure I’d ever finish. ”
“Blood?” My heart thumped.
“It’s in the cure,” he whispered. “It took me so long because every variation, every new experiment demanded more. I gave and I gave…”
“Thomas,” I said, voice cracking.
“You’re not the only one with scars, Lyra.” His hand caressed the side of my face. “And you were worth every one. Not because I want you to love me. I just… I want to make someone as brilliant and caring as you happy, even for just a moment. That would be enough.”
“You’ve done more than that,” I murmured, my voice rough with emotion. “I’ll never be able to thank you enough for what you’ve done.”
He pressed a kiss, soft and sweet, to my forehead. I let my heart sink into its warmth.
When he pulled away, something earnest shone in his eyes.
His lips tilted up. “Tell me about your father, Lyra. I want to know all about him.”
“I think… I think he would’ve liked you.”
“As much as he disapproved of the monarchy?” he asked.
I nodded, my eyes growing watery. “There were some things he believed transcended our status. Kindness. Sacrifice.”
His hand tightened around my arm. I laid my head on his shoulder.
“He sounds like a wise man. What else did he say?”
We sat together on the bed for the briefest of hours as sunlight spilled through the window, and I told him.
I shared the memories I’d forced myself to forget, the pain that still ached like a fresh cut.
The porch my father and I had built together.
The journal he left behind. The dreams he entrusted to me within its pages.
The scattered crumbs across his blankets.
The tears finally came.
But I didn’t cry alone this time, hidden in a palace garden after scolding a prince.
No, that very same prince held me in his arms, murmured softly in my ear, and told me I was more than enough.
Another week passed between nightmares and waking life. I often jerked awake from dreams of cold, dripping dungeons. My muscles loosened as I registered Thom’s warmth next to mine.
Thomas refused to leave me despite my protests about his own need for rest. He had a servant bring us decadent meals in bed, from roasted venison and pheasant stew to mashed beetroots and troll pudding.
And we conversed about everything. Thomas’s years in Junira.
My tutelage under Master Carter. The rolling ache, the unfading bruises we both seemed to carry with us from day to day.
We talked about the good we could yet do by working together—university scholarships awarded, laws changed, apprenticeships provided by the crown.
Each time, I shared as much as I could before my body ached for sleep once more. When my eyes grew heavy, Thomas would kiss me and press a thumb to my forehead, and the world would fade away again.
But this time, the darkness felt safe as I slipped into it. Perhaps because I trusted Thomas would be by my side as I slept.
Perhaps because for once, someone was looking after me.
And for once, I did not feel the need to earn it.
Thomas’s arm was pressed against mine, his breaths steady when an unfamiliar voice stirred me from my sleep. I squinted into the bright afternoon light that flooded the room. A fuzzy guard stood at the door.
My muscles clenched when he came into focus.
“Lyra.”
“David?”
He stepped closer. “You’re okay,” he blurted. “They wouldn’t tell us what happened.”
“I think I will be.”
David straightened as Thomas yawned. “Your Highness…” he mumbled with a bow.
“Did you have a message for us?” Thom mumbled. His fingers tightened around my waist. I muffled a smile at the protectiveness in his voice.
David clasped his hands behind his back. “The Grand Mage would like to see Miss Smyth. He’s with the King.” His eyes no longer met mine.
I sat up shakily, my body weak and already winded.
“Lyra,” Thom warned, but I ignored him, holding the edge of the bed as I stood. The sudden shift in weight caused me to stumble. My calves screamed in protest. Achiness bloomed up my body and begged me to sit back down, but I managed it alone.
Thomas reached for my hand, but I shook my head with a smile. I needed to know I could still stand on my own. I stepped closer to David who finally met my gaze. For a moment, the many strolls in the orchard, the stolen kisses, the warmth of our families together flashed through my mind.
Strange that those memories now felt like they belonged to another girl altogether.
“I wish you all the happiness in the world,” I told him. “Congratulations on the family you’ve found.”
His smile was bittersweet as he sent a quick glance toward the prince. “You, too,” he said.
I turned and reached for Thomas’s hand. It slipped easily into mine, warm and soft, and we left the guest chambers, my mind still foggy from dreams. He tugged me down the palace corridors and up the steps I’d climbed so many times as a mere chambermaid.
It was surreal knowing I’d never clean a prince’s chamber again, never wake before dawn with a sore back and dirt beneath my nails.
I’d spent so much time believing my future had already been woven for me.
I’d been wrong.
I snuck glances at Thom, at his tall, imposing figure, at the glasses he adjusted repeatedly as we approached his father’s study.
The guard at the door noticed us and stood aside. Without hesitation, or even a knock, Thomas opened the door.
I’d never been in the King’s study, his room being the responsibility of one of the senior chambermaids. The room glowed with sunlight, washing the draped tapestries in gold. The Grand Mage, the King, and Prince Theodore sat hunched around a desk in avid chatter, pausing as we entered.
“Son,” King Leopold uttered like a command. His purple cloak billowed around him as if it were a lion’s mane.
Prince Theodore jumped to his feet. “There’s our beloved frog.” He clapped Thomas on the shoulder.
Thomas stiffened and gave him a look.
“And this is the woman who saved you?” Theodore asked. “It was Lyranore all along?”
I shifted under the crown prince’s curious glance.
“Tell me everything,” the Grand Mage demanded.