Time
Mortality.
Through the veil between realms,
shall you follow this road.
May your eyes become mine
Until you return home.
Time of death, death in time.
From untimely death, we bid you Rise.”
Waves of pink crashed and receded and crashed again. Until the bloom of life remained.
Lux removed her thumbs.
But, for some inexplicable reason, her hands remained still. They laid there, cupping the girl’s face, as bright green eyes met another’s. Tiny, pink lips trembled. A single tear ran from the corner of the child’s eye, seeping into Lux’s skin.
“Shh, you’re all right.”
The girl calmed at her voice, and Lux stiffened, taken aback she’d spoken at all.
She glanced to the parents. They needed nothing further. Rushing forward with deep cries, they scooped their daughter up together.
Lux watched on as plump, little arms encircled the mother’s neck, before her gaze met the father’s. With tears running down his face anew, he nodded a promise, and she turned away. Though what she feared he’d see, she didn’t know.
Bundled in her softest blanket, Lux ushered the child and her parents out of her home on a threat to maintain their silence. She shut it after them, resting her back against the rough wood. Sure she’d never been so drained in every aspect, she pushed from its surface.
Shaw threw a log onto the fire, brushing his hands along his trousers when she stepped to his side. Exhaustion had stolen the heat from her skin; she wanted to be near something—someone—warm.
Even if that someone was him.
“I thought you’d left.”
The family had seen him, sitting with his back unnaturally straight, fingers steepled, in the chair. But they’d been much too focused on their returned child to bother with a second glance.
Shaw stared at the fire, his expression distant. “I know I don’t have a good reason for staying.” He turned back to the chair, grabbing his coat. His thumb traced along its faded edge.“Curiosity, perhaps.” His gaze flicked to hers, and Lux covered her mouth against a yawn, her eyelids fluttering.
She was too tired to truly care.
But when she focused on him next, his jaw had hardened, his eyes boring into the bloodied tear of her skirt. She snapped her fingers in his face, and he sneered.
“What?”
“Don’t forget our bargain.”
“I don’t often forget what I dread most.” Ignoring her own sneer now, he pulled on his cap. “Until the masquerade.”
“No.”
Shaw caught himself midstep, shadowed eyes sharpening and ready for battle. “No?”
“I want that journal beforehand.”
She had errands in the Dark Market anyway. The image of three howler canines resting in their jar demanded her to try her luck at acquiring more. It had beenyearssince she’d run this low.
