“This is amazing!” Lyssena exclaimed as she stepped fully into the deeper cavern Rolam had led her to.
The shop was set within a smaller offshoot of the market, a cave tucked farther into the dark stone, where the shadows seemed thicker but somehow more curated, as though shaped specifically to frame what lay within. Shelves carved directly from the cavern walls stretched upward in arching rows, holding objects both familiar and unsettling. There were bolts of fabric in muted, rich tones—deep burgundy, dusky gold, soft ash-gray—their textures ranging from silken sheen to heavy, plushweave. There were glass vessels filled with preserved herbs and powders, their contents layered in gradients of color, and beside them stood tall, narrow jars containing what appeared to be dried animal organs, shriveled and darkened with age.
Small shadow-crafted boxes sat in neat arrangements across long stone tables, their lids slightly ajar to reveal glimpses of jewels, polished bones, carved trinkets, and things Lyssena could not immediately name.
Rolam had everything.
Anything she could possibly imagine, and several things she could not.
She moved forward as though pulled by an invisible rope and stopped beside a small open case lined with dark velvet, inside of which rested a collection of luminous pearls, catching the faint violet glow of the cavern in a way that made them appear even prettier.
Her mouth parted in astonishment.
“How much would something like this cost?” she asked, reaching down to lift the box.
“Three bubbles,” Rolam replied, “and a truth.”
Lyssena turned toward him at once, the small case cradled in her gloved hands.
He was leaning casually against a broad stone table behind him, the surface beside him strewn with folded fabrics and several tall glasses containing those same dried organs she had noticed earlier.
They were unsettling. But the pearls . . . The pearls were exquisite.
“What truth?” she asked, already reaching into her pocket to retrieve three of the tear-bubbles.
Her mind was racing ahead of her even as she spoke. She could sew the pearls into her crown so that they rested like soft constellations against the shadowed metal, or stitch them alongthe neckline of her gown, letting them catch the dim glow of the cavern when she moved. She could even craft two matching bracelets—one for herself and one for Erevos—something pretty and intimate that tied them together.
“Have you chosen to stay here?” Rolam asked.
The question slipped between her thoughts and stilled them entirely.
“Chosen?” she repeated.
She had chosen to follow Erevos. She had chosen to leave the human world behind. And over time, she had come to like him—more than like him, if she were honest—though the full shape of that feeling still felt too delicate to examine directly. Romance had always lived vividly in her imagination, and what she shared with Erevos had grown into something beautiful.
She was still too shy to name it fully, but she knew it was there.
And yet, Rolam’s question lodged somewhere deeper than she expected.
When she had first been intimate with Erevos, she now remembered, he had said that eternity was forever.
That word had slipped past her then.
Now it had settled heavily in her mind.
“Why do you ask?” she replied at last.
Rolam’s expression did not change much, but something in his gaze darkened.
“My human,” he said, “never chose me back.”
Chapter Forty-One
Unbearable Silence
Erevos
“Does it look correct?” Erevos asked, holding the small clay vessel between his fingers.
