“Calix!” I shout and cut through the people towards the far wall where he’s talking with Kyra. “Have you seen Ever?”
“Yeah, she’s with Lyle. They were…” he trails off as he looks around and comes up empty. “She’s probably just gone back or something,” he tries to placate me.
“Nope. Just come back from the apartment. She’s not there.”
“What’s the problem, Ten?” Kyra checks.
“When did they post Officers outside? Can you still get in and out of here without being seen?” I keep looking for Lyle or Ever. She wouldn’t have left without her.
“No. We’ve all been brought in. Nobody wants the rumours to spread before they’re ready,” Kyra fills in.
“The Maker. Where is she?”
“She’s with the Orders, last I heard, deciding on a suitable pool of candidates for the next position of Head of the Guard Order. Your father was quick to put your name in. If the usual rules have been amended, maybe our futures aren’t going to be so different after all.”
I look up at the dais where the four chairs are positioned, down from the one the Maker set up for herself under Aslendrix. But it’s empty.
“No. No, no, no.” I scrunch my hands through my hair as I look around blindly, searching through the faces. My heart beating wildly, I shoulder-barge past Elementals and Naturals, not caring who I touch or who I annoy.
“Ten? What’s going on?” Kyra’s followed in my wake.
“I think Ever’s left.”
“Okay. We’ll go and find her. She might be at the training residence, although?—”
“No. I mean, left Kirrasia.”
fifty-one
. . .
Ever
Not even the view of the moonlit cottage can stop the tears from running down my cheek.
I’ve not let go of Lyle’s hand since I asked the Maker to bring us here.
Bring us back.
She didn’t ask any questions, didn’t try to stop me, just nodded her head.
She walked us out of the Great Hall, and then, with her Triune around us, vanished us here.
I don’t know how she did it, but she did.
But, looking at the place I once called home, I don’t feel relief. I don’t feel sanctity. I feel empty.
Lyle coaxes her hand free and goes inside, unlocking the door with the key under the window basket. I stand and watch as she lights the candles, illuminating the house with a soft, yellow glow.
I rub my thumb over the ring on my finger. Mymother’sring.
“You are a child of Kirrasia. Always. Magic or no magic. Remember that, Ever Hart. If you choose it, Kirrasia can be a home for you.”
It can’t be, though. No matter what she says.
The realisation sparks more tears to fall, and I taste the salt on my lips as they keep falling.
A faint breeze whips around and blows a few curls loose from my hair, and I turn to see she’s gone.
