CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT #2
I wanted to ease it, just a little.
“Can I ask you something? About Thuridan?” I ventured, hesitant. Lyari moved her head, a subtle shift that told me she was listening. I kept my posture loose, my expression free of judgment as I asked, “What was he like? Before he became a Guardian and left Court.”
Silence met my words, and for a moment, I was terrified that I’d made a mistake.
The last thing I wanted was to drive Lyari away again.
I was just trying to understand her better; I only saw the cruel, hard-faced version of the warrior she’d loved.
Toward the end, I caught a glimpse of something different. Who had Thuridan Olorel been, really?
When the quiet stretched on, I bit my tongue and reminded myself to be patient. Some questions took time to answer. Some just didn’t have an answer at all. I knew that better than anyone.
Lyari turned her head and watched the snow come down.
Her eyes trailed the progress of a snowflake all the way to the ground, then moved upward again, latching onto a new one.
When she spoke again, her voice was soft.
“A long time ago, the other children at Court avoided me. I was the mad one’s daughter.
Weakness was in our blood, and associating with us made others look weak, too.
But Thuridan didn’t care about that. For many years, he was my only friend. ”
She met my gaze, and the ends of her short hair lifted in a gust of wind.
She went on. “He was quieter, then. Kind. He made my first sword, as a way to defend myself when the others decided to stop ignoring me, and started beating me instead. Most evenings, I would hide in his room. It was a haven from the beatings, and my father’s endless parties, and my mother’s screams. Thuridan read out loud to me, or taught me how to use the sword.
It was those lessons that prompted me to become a Guardian.
But then a change happened in him—without any explanation, he became cold.
Distant. Thuridan left shortly after, and ignored my attempts to see him.
The first time our paths crossed again was the day he returned to Court and accused you of murdering the king. ”
“He distanced himself to protect you,” I said, but of course Lyari already knew. She nodded, her eyes skittering away again. Another silence fell.
I considered walking toward her. After a moment, I held myself back. It was obvious Lyari wanted space, and I had to respect that, no matter how much I was tempted to forcibly close the distance between us. But that didn’t mean I couldn’t try to offer comfort.
I crossed my arms and peered up at the sky, remembering something the devil had once told me.
“We get to choose,” I said. Lyari’s attention shifted back to me.
I sensed her silent question and continued, “Being Fallen isn’t a one-way ticket to Lucifer’s torture chambers, like all of us believed.
We get to decide, Lyari. Our souls go where we truly believe we deserve to be.
You and Thuridan may not be together in this life, but he could be waiting in the next one.
You know, if you ever figure out how great you actually are and realize you belong in a good place, too. ”
I gave her another small, teasing smile.
Lyari didn’t react. I studied her, unable to tell if my words had helped or caused her more pain.
I knew all too well what that pain felt like, and my voice dropped to a near whisper.
“I’m so sorry you lost him, Lyari. I wish you two could’ve had the future you deserved, and it’s so unfair that you didn’t get to. ”
Something trailed down her cheek, barely perceptible in the dim light—a tear.
Lyari wiped it away with a rough, impatient movement.
Without another word, she briskly crossed the driveway and stopped beside me, arching her head back to look at the loft.
Light shone through the windows. A moment later, we both heard the sound of a distant laugh.
“I can’t come back here,” Lyari said. Her smile was gone, her eyebrows drawn together with regret. “This is not where I’m meant to be.”
Sorrow cut through me. I didn’t let it show on my face, though. Lyari didn’t need any more guilt, since I had no doubt she was already feeling plenty of her own. “Where are you meant to be, then?” I asked.
A frown hovered around her mouth, her dark brows knit together. “I’m not sure yet. But I intend to find out.”
I watched her with a small, soft smile. “I have no doubt that you will.”
Both of us fell silent after that, and for a while, we just stood there together.
Absorbing the fact that everything was about to change.
It already had, a long time ago if I was being honest, but we’d never truly acknowledged it.
Grieved it. The day was nearing its end, but it wasn’t quite dusk yet.
The periwinkle sky loomed quietly above us. Not even the crows came to disturb us.
Then Lyari turned to me and said, “It was good to see you, Fortuna.”
At the sound of my name on her lips, a small jolt went through me—she used it so rarely. I swallowed the knot of emotion filling my throat. “It was really good to see you, too, Ly,” I said.
With a final, parting smile, she began to walk away.
“Hey,” I called after her. Lyari turned. “Any interest in sticking around for a drink?”
“I would, but there’s someone else who needs to speak with you,” she said.
I frowned in a silent question. With a knowing look in her eye, my friend just retreated, leaving slight marks in the snow.
Then she ran. She might’ve been a goblin now, but she still had the speed of a faerie. In seconds, she was out of sight.
I opened my mouth to call her back, demand that she at least give me the chance to say goodbye. Lyari was already gone, though, and her threshold was as limited as mine when it came to vulnerability. Deciding to let her go, I searched the trees for this new visitor she’d mentioned.
I would’ve been terrified by Lyari’s parting comment—I didn’t exactly have a good track record with nightly visitors—were it not for the feeling in my chest. Like the tiniest, almost imperceptible pressure had eased.
Like a small part of me that had been far away was back now.
As I turned, I knew as I always did, somehow, that Collith would be standing behind me.
I started to give him a warm greeting, but something about the way he stood made alarms go off in my head. I felt my welcoming smile fade. “Hey. Everything okay?”
Collith was expressionless as he said, “The bloodlines have decided. The throne will return to the Sylvyre bloodline.”
I let the words sink in for a moment. It felt like my heart had turned to lead. My mind flashed back, lingering on an image of Collith sitting on that gnarled throne, cold-faced, his ringed fingers curling over the armrests as he looked out at his Court. “You’re going to be king again,” I said.
Collith just nodded. His eyes were riveted to my face, watching my reaction carefully. Trying to figure out how I felt about it, probably. Hard to do when I didn’t even know. His tone was still neutral when he asked, “The coronation is tomorrow night. Will you come?”
My gaze lowered. A war raged inside me, tearing my insides to ribbons. Confusion, frustration, terror. Collith could taste it, no doubt. For the first time, I wondered if my fear had a flavor to him.
“Do you want to go upstairs?” I asked abruptly. “I’m cold.”
It was true. The winter’s bite shouldn’t have bothered me, and maybe it was all in my head, but the pain of its teeth had sunk into my skin.
Collith nodded again. I walked over to the door and held it open for him before I went inside too, sighing in relief at the warmth already seeping through my clothes.
We went up the stairs silently, unspoken words swelling between us in the dark.
When we entered the loft, I expected to find chaos, but it was quiet. I must’ve been talking to Lyari for longer than I’d thought … unless Emma had seen me and Collith out the window and conveniently decided it was time for everyone to go to bed. Meddling old woman, I thought.
I went into the kitchen, more out of habit than anything, and Collith followed.
Neither of us sat down or went to the cupboards.
We just stood near each other. The silence still felt strange to me—I’d gotten so used to the sound of Nym’s clocks.
Maybe I’d get another one, just one. Nym would’ve liked that, I thought.
“To be honest, I’m a little surprised you’re inviting me,” I said at last, continuing our conversation from outside. “My presence might be a distraction.”
Collith’s hand rested next to mine on the countertop. “I don’t want you to come as a guest,” he said. “I want you to sit in the chair next to me.”
My gaze snapped up to his. I waited for Collith to say something else, because what he was asking wasn’t that simple. But he just looked at me and waited. Finally I replied, half-shaking my head, “You’d really want that? After everything?”
“Do you truly have no idea?” Collith asked, staring at me as if I’d said something ludicrous.
I stared back blankly, and I didn’t answer, because I didn’t know how.
Collith uttered a soft laugh, but it was as if he was reacting to a secret joke.
He shook his head, smiling faintly. Then, before I realized what he intended to do, he closed the distance between us and cupped my face.
His scent surrounded me in a rush of earth and spice and pure Collith. My toes curled in my shoes.