Chapter 28
TERRAN
“You look as if you’re preparing for battle,” she said.
“Perhaps I am.” I stopped just before reaching her.
“Something Kael said upset you?”
I wanted to kiss her. Turn from her. Make love to her. Walk away.
That was precisely the problem. What I wanted when Lyra was near was not at all the same as what was prudent. Especially after speaking to my brother.
“Not what he said,” I explained. “But what he did not.”
The care Kael took, as Lyra had, not to ask me for use of the Stone, as if it were mine to offer, angered me more than anything.
My brother was not one to speak in riddles, but he’d done precisely that.
When I accused him of being unduly influenced by Aetherian ways, Kael became angry, said I was inflexible.
But the brother I knew would have simply told me what he wanted. Why Lyra had been sent to Gyoria.
Instead, he spoke of unity and Unbalance and the fate of Elydor. And, of course, our father’s increasing proclivity to guard Gyoria from all outside influence.
“You are angry.”
“Aye.” I looked into her eyes. They revealed nothing.
“What did Kael say?”
She was back to the calm, collected Shadow Diplomat that gathered information without offering it.
“Not nearly enough.”
I reached for her. Pulled Lyra into my arms.
She didn’t resist, though part of me wished she would.
My hand snaked behind her neck, Lyra looking up with the same measured expression that would have me think she continued to be unaffected.
But I knew better now.
Her eyes reminded me of starlight storms. They happened rarely—every century or so—though I was fortunate to catch more than one.
“I asked a question, the day you arrived.” Threading my fingers through her hair, I made no other move to bring us closer. For her part, Lyra slowly raised her hand, placing it delicately on my forearm. Not to push me away, but neither to encourage any further connection.
A simple, neutral movement. Very… Lyra.
“What game do you play?” I asked, reminding her of that question.
“I could ask you the same,” she responded. “Clearly, something Kael said upset you, though you refuse to tell me about your meeting.”
“He’s been too long with the princess. Too long in Aetheria.”
“Mevlida. She is your family now. Perhaps you should begin to use her name.”
“Perhaps you should attempt honesty with me.” I tugged her closer. “Or better, with yourself.”
Her nails dug into my arm, the only indication I had any effect.
“You have no shame. To use my weakness against me.”
“Weakness? Wanting is not a weakness, Lyra.” To prove it, I leaned forward to kiss her.
Not claim, but kiss. A slow, methodical response to her accusation.
She gave herself fully, and I did the same.
Our bodies pressed together, and if not for the weight of this day…
the impending war… I’d have happily lost myself in the kiss.
Instead, I pulled back, hoping to have proved my point.
“I lose myself every bit as much, if not more, every time we’re near. ’Tis not a weakness but a sign of trust. One I want to return.”
That startled her.
“What did he say?” she pressed.
I let go and stepped back.
“Kael said much and nothing at all. My brother bides his time. Waits for me to come to the same conclusion as you.”
Her shoulders rose and fell as Lyra watched, and waited. Calculated and understood.
“Terran—”
“If you thought it would be possible to seduce me into obtaining the Stone of Mor’Vallis and using it to open the Aetherian Gate, you were half-right.”
I wanted to be wrong. But as I turned from her, attempting not to hear the pain in her voice as she called me back to her, two things became clear.
Lyra had been playing a dangerous game with me.
And I’d let her.
* * *
The ivory-colored structure rose above the western edge of the palace grounds as I approached.
Though smaller than the palace, the Temple was no less imposing.
Its white stone columns were etched with golden filigree that caught rays of sunlight from every angle.
I hadn’t meant to come here, to the ancient building that housed the Gate, but with every step closer, the Stone that had gone silent began to pulse with a now-familiar faint vibration from the pouch at my side.
A pair of Aetherian guards crossed their halberds before the entrance, blocking my way.
I stiffened, expecting as much, but before I could summon either excuse or defiance, a familiar voice cut through the stillness behind me.
“He’s with me.”
Kael’s figure emerged from the shadows, his tone allowing for no argument. The guards returned to an at-ease position but said nothing as we silently climbed the marble staircase together, making our way through the towering glass-and-gold doors into the chamber.
Inside, the Gate loomed at the far end, a vast arch of cream-colored stone, its surface carved with constellations and sigils that seemed almost to breathe with their own faint light.
“My only other memory of being here never felt like my own.”
Kael knew me well enough to understand I didn’t expect a response.
I’d been little more than my father’s shadow then, another blade at King Balthor’s command. Though it was so long ago, my memory of the relics flaring was vivid.
“I understand the runes carved into that arch as little as I do the power that thrummed it for so long.”
Kael approached, pointing to one. “Aetheria’s mark, the breath of sky, running through a current that carries life. And this one,” he said, “you know it as Elydor’s crowned arch, but its center is hollow since it’s meant to hold the symbol of all clans. Without unity, Elydor is empty.”
I didn’t remember that particular rune glowing that night my father closed the Gate, only the crushing certainty that whatever light burned in all of them, collectively, would never shine again.
The weight of that day suddenly pressed hard against my chest as I was unable to look away. Whether that arch opened once again, or remained locked, my fate, all of Elydor’s, was bound to it.
“We didn’t know.”
Those whispered words from Kael carried more weight than anything he’d ever said.
“We knew enough.”
He didn’t disagree.
I turned from the Gate’s ominous presence, concentrating instead on what I could control.
“You sent her under false pretenses, at best. I never knew you as a coward, Kael.”
Part of me wanted a fight. Expected one. Surprisingly, my brother didn’t accommodate. His hand didn’t twitch. His temper didn’t flare. Instead, he stood before me, as calm and collected as Lyra might.
“If I’d come, I would have been locked up as a traitor before I even stepped foot on Gyorian soil.”
I resented the implication. “I would not have allowed it.”
“You wouldn’t have had a choice. He’s lost, Terran. He’s been lost for some time. We just didn’t see it.”
Anger welled within me. Unlike my brother, my fingers did twitch. My fist balled. Kael noticed, but said nothing. I wanted to disagree with his words, but even I wasn’t that much of a fool.
“She lied about her purpose for being there. Worse, I allowed it.”
Kael’s brows rose. “Did she? You’ve not felt The Unbalance?”
I snorted, an unprincely sound and one I fully welcomed. We were no princes but two outlawed brothers with less true power than anyone in Elydor.
“Does it matter? Our father is king. What are you proposing, Kael? Short of killing our own father, he will remain so. None are more powerful than he, even in his current state.”
Kael’s eyes darkened. “I never proposed to kill him, or aid another to do so. But I disagree that we are powerless. Taking a stand is power. Defiance is power. Truth, unity, refusal, hope… these are power. And they are weapons Father cannot strip from us.”
“You sent her. Her. To prove a point.”
Except, he didn’t. Kael had no notion what I was talking about. No idea how I’d felt about Lyra, before. And certainly not now.
At least he’d not stooped that low.
Before my brother could ask any questions, I forged ahead. On a different topic.
“What do you propose we do?”
But I knew the answer already, of course.
Kael waited for me to confirm it.
Turning back to the Gate, I considered, as I had every moment since realizing Lyra’s true purpose in Gyoria, the implications of reopening the Gate.
Of my father’s response.
Or more importantly, of my mother’s.
Squeezing my eyes shut, I envisioned her standing here with us. Of the last moments we spent with her before she left us, forever.
Opening them, I wiped away the single tear that had formed, proving they were still possible. Kael, thankfully, said nothing. He waited. Watched.
I could feel him next to me.
“It is good to have you back,” I said.
“I never left. You just stopped seeing me.”
Trust Kael to turn comfort into rebuke. Still, the words lodged somewhere deeper than I wanted to admit.
“Then maybe I see you now,” I said, though the admission tasted like surrender.
Kael’s mouth curved, not in triumph but in something quieter. Something I didn’t have the strength to name.
I would stand beside her at the Gate. I would help them try to open it.
But not for her. Or for Kael. Or even Mother.
For a kingdom that deserved better than Father’s hate.