CHAPTER EIGHT #2
“Are you alright? It’s late.” His voice held no trace of annoyance, just concern. He sounded tired. Maybe I had just woken him up. “What happened to you?” he asked, gaze snapping to the sling cradling my injured arm, his voice losing its sleepy edge.
“Oh—it’s kind of a long story. I traveled into Sivell and met a phoenix who offered me his flame.”
His face relaxed into a broad smile. “You lit your lampposts! I knew you could do it!”
“Actually, they went dark again. And I have no idea what to try next. I just wish I could find it—the perfect path forward. Maybe then, I would feel like less of a failure.”
Corvin’s gaze locked gently onto mine. “Or, maybe there’s no such thing.” His lips curved playfully, a hint of mischief twinkling seductively in his eyes. “Besides, perfection is boring.”
I smiled softly back at him. Nobody could claim violet flame was boring, at the very least.
Corvin continued speaking. “I’m sorry I haven’t been more help in that regard.
I did speak to my father about it briefly.
But he wasn’t sure why they won’t light when you ask them.
It took him by surprise. I guess Luciana used to clap her hands when she asked the lampposts to light.
Unfortunately, that was all he had the energy to impart. ”
“Luciana?” I asked.
“My father’s friend. The reason he owes a debt to the Midnight Sovereign.”
“About your father. Did you know a phoenix’s ash has powerful healing properties?
At least, it mended my broken bone. I met a phoenix warrior, well, more like a trainee, someone who said he might be able to put in a good word for me with their healers.
I could go back, ask him about helping your father. How is he feeling this week?”
Corvin stared at me intently, looking touched, a pained smile pressed upon his lips.
“You would do that for me? That’s very thoughtful of you, but I think at this point, the healers have tried just about everything available in the realm, phoenix ash included.
” His voice grew thick with emotion. “He’s alright, but lately there have been less and less good days.
” His gaze settled back on my arm. “I’m more worried about you at the moment.
I could come back to your island, assist with any chores that are too difficult to complete with your arm. What do you think?”
“You want to visit me again?”
“One moment.” Corvin turned and shouted over his shoulder.
“Kygraw! Are you around? Kygraw!” There was a shuffling noise, but I couldn’t make out anyone behind Corvin’s image in the mirror.
“Do you know where we are right now?” He turned back to me.
“I can get there in a week.” I tried to puzzle out why he wouldn’t know where he was, but couldn’t conjure up any compelling theories.
“You don’t have to do my bidding just because of some debt,” I said.
“Don’t worry. I may feel a connection between us, but the debt isn’t actively forcing me to do everything you command. Now I could tell you my secret Fae name if you want me well and truly bound to you, forced to satisfy your every whim. I might even enjoy that.”
“Secret name? What’s the point of having a name you never use?”
He looked surprised. “You don’t have one?
My earliest memory is of my mother whispering mine to me.
I thought it was an important ritual to anyone with Fae blood, something that no one can take away from you, that makes it harder for anyone to control you by learning all of your true names.
I noticed your ears are pointed, so I thought perhaps you would have one too. ”
“I’ve never known my parents,” I replied, trying to keep my tone light.
“I grew up in an orphanage in Solaris—that must be why I don’t know about any secret name.
It feels like I traded away my connection to the Summer Court for this island long ago.
Did you grow up in one of the courts then?
Is that why you can shift into a raven?”
He bowed his head. “I’m sorry for your loss.
My mother was taken from me too when I was young.
She once belonged to the Winter Court, but that’s not where I grew up.
I have my father’s heritage to thank for my wings.
Despite never living in the Winter Court, I do feel oddly connected to the season.
Sometimes I like to wander outdoors in the wintertime.
It’s strange—still feeling a connection to a place you’ve never called home yourself, where you’ll never truly belong. ”
“Indeed,” I softly affirmed, thinking of my own relationship to the summer season.
Corvin watched me through the mirror. “So, I’ll visit you soon then?”
“And what if I get used to having you around to do my bidding?” I teased.
He grinned slowly. “All you have to do is ask, and I will be there. Good night, Elvira. Sleep well.”
“You too, Corvin.”
As the glass fogged over once again, I brushed the mirror with the tips of my fingers. Drawing my knees up to my chest, I hugged them to myself, thinking about Corvin’s kind words of encouragement and his father’s advice about the lampposts.
Ask them to light. After all my efforts, could it really be that simple?
I stood in the middle of the stone pathway, having wandered outside after my conversation with Corvin.
Were the lampposts just another part of the island like the boat that I could attune to my will?
Were they simply…waiting for my command?
If his father was correct about how they worked, all I needed to do was clap and demand they burn for me.
Light. The word stuck in my throat.
I was too aware of how little I had to offer.
If I accomplished this, there was no going back.
I would be directly responsible for whatever followed.
Kaylin trained me to upkeep the island; she trained me to preserve the history books housed in the study.
To clean their pages and repair their bindings.
She never trained me to survive out in the world.
Never imparted the skills I would need to successfully make a midnight bargain or travel the realm to fulfill its terms. Who was I to think I had anything of value to offer the realm?
Tell them to light. It wasn’t that simple at all.
I was far from ready. Clueless.
All the years Kaylin and I spent together—meaningless.
She left as soon as she could. Ever the dutiful apprentice, I let her leave me behind.
And where exactly had that gotten me? I should have demanded she return to the island.
To me. I told myself at the time that I held my tongue out of respect.
But in truth it was cowardice… Too cowardly to hear her say the words aloud.
That she chose her family over me.
It wasn’t fair. Someone should have been here, to teach me how to light the lampposts.
Kaylin should have taught me. Instead, she abandoned me.
It was an ugly, uncharitable thought. I wouldn’t even know how to read if she hadn’t adopted me.
She only ever wanted to keep me safe. But there was a price to be paid from being so isolated, an impact she underestimated in her desire to protect me from harm.
I couldn’t shake my anger; I couldn’t stem the bitter flow of resentment pouring out of me. Kaylin was the most important person in my life. She had failed me as a mentor. Reconciling both was tearing me apart.
Find a life of your own to live. Kaylin’s wish for me. Her way of telling me to treat the island as my sanctuary from danger, not my true home. She meant for me to find an apprentice and leave its care to them. Just as she had done to me. A broken, self-perpetuating cycle.
Kaylin was abandoned too. It was only right to acknowledge that fact.
I reminded myself she couldn’t teach me what she didn’t know.
Her mentor, Juniper, had left her alone too.
Under different circumstances, but the end result was the same.
I thought back to all the times she had looked embarrassed or ashamed when she couldn’t answer my questions about the island.
Eventually, I stopped asking altogether.
She’d been given just as little to work with.
For a moment, I let myself feel that same temptation. To take an apprentice so that I would no longer be alone on the island. But I knew, deep inside myself, I couldn’t welcome somebody new to the island without leaving them a legacy worth having.
There was no one to guide me on this path. I could still decide to take a step forward.
Still decide to build something better—for whoever came next. I clapped firmly in a sharp staccato rhythm. Instilling as much authority as possible into my voice, I issued my command. “Light!”
Every single lamppost flared to life.
Violet flames licked against the walls of each glass fixture, filling every nook and cranny.
Those closest to me, then all the rest, brilliant violet light cascading down the walkway in a powerful wave.
A heartbeat later, the pathway became a bright beacon of light, illuminating the island with its warm, welcoming glow.
The flame burned steady, not a flicker in sight.
“I am an absolute idiot,” I muttered, thinking of all the trouble I could have saved myself by uttering just one word.
“A persistent idiot though,” I amended, the grin on my face growing wider and wider by the moment.
A wild laugh bubbled out of my chest, constrained at first, then increasingly out of control.
I danced around like a madwoman. I did a cartwheel down the pathway. I bowed to a nonexistent audience.
Who might visit me now?