Crossing the hall, I tapped with a fingernail on Amahle’s door.
A few moments later, she opened it, her dark eyes peering into the dim lighting. “You realize you’re not in the forest, right? We can sleep past sunrise here.”
I shrugged. “Speak for yourself. Next time get me a bed for two. Rykr practically spent the night on top of me.”
Amahle lifted a brow. “That’s easy. Next time, you get on top.”
“Very funny. Care to take a stroll to the repository with me this morning? It’ll be fun.”
Amahle wrinkled her nose, considering. “Only if we stop by a bakery along the way. I’m not giving up the chance to eat all my favorite Emberstone foods for your side quests.”
“Deal.”
As I waited for her to dress, I leaned against the hallway wall, smiling to myself. Having her here grounded me. Even with the weight of everything pressing down, Amahle’s presence was like a semblance of normalcy to the world I’d existed in before Esme had been taken.
Funny how I hadn’t appreciated the simplicity of my life back then. My worries had been about small things—staying safe, finding food, enjoying time with Amahle and Ciaran when our duties permitted. Now, every decision felt like a step closer to failure, the weight of Esme’s absence a permanent albatross on my shoulders.
A faint tingling spread through my fingers, the familiar aftereffect of spellcraft—but this time, it lingered, an odd numbness I couldn’t shake. I flexed my fingers, unease curling in my stomach. My spells had always come easily, like second nature, so why did it feel like something was slipping?
Maybe I’d stop by the House of the Veil before heading to the repository. My mother might have answers.
We left the inn within minutes, heading into the quiet of Emberstone at dawn. Inside the mountain, the illusion of daylight and weather was cast by magic, the cavern ceiling shifting with the outside sky. The only advantage was that it never actually rained here, though lightning storms were interesting.
Amahle treated me to pastries from her favorite bakery, filled with cinnamon and fruit and drizzled with tangy, sweet icing, but the sweetness did little to ease the unease in my chest. My hands still felt strange, as though resistant to the spell I’d cast.
Now wasn’t the time to doubt myself.
“To the repository, then?” Amahle asked as we headed back onto the streets.
“Actually, I want to stop by the House of the Veil, first.” I hesitated, but this was Amahle, and she’d want to know. “I’ve been having some strange tingling in my hands. I want to ask my mother about it.”
And if Haldron really was King Magnus’s brother, she’d know.
But why didn’t she ever tell me?
“Tingling?” Amahle raised a brow.
“I’m sure it’s nothing. Just something I noticed after casting a spell.”
“That doesn’t sound good, Seren.” Amahle’s frown creased her forehead. “I say this with love, but you look … tired. Rykr’s not keeping you up all night, is he?”
I should have known she’d bring this up. I jabbed my elbow into her side. “Amahle, no.”
“Don’t pretend I didn’t interrupt something last night. I felt bad enough about it. Hopefully, you were able to resume after I left.”
“You didn’t interrupt.” At her skeptical gaze, I wrinkled my nose. “There may have been a kiss, but it was nothing. Just a momentary lapse in judgment.”
“If a man like Rykr was in my room, I’d invite all sorts of lapses in judgment.” Amahle grinned, rummaging in her bag for another pastry. “Don’t pretend you don’t like him, Seren. The heat between you two sizzles. That performance in the sparring ring … just damn.”
Despite my protests, the memory of that kiss made me want to squirm—in a good way. His hands on my skin had been incredible, the taste of him better than I’d dreamed.
And I did like him.
More than that. I care about him. That’s why the thought of him leaving was impossible to face.
Stop it, now.
This wasn’t some ordinary Viori man that we could gossip and giggle about.
