And suddenly, Iknew.
My knees hit the stone. A sob tore from my throat.
The sea, the stars, the moon—I faced north. Beyond that horizon lay Radaan. I reached out, trembling.
If he were here, he’d make sense of this mess, know what to say, have the right laws memorized. He’d figure out how to move forward.
But didn’t he already? We both knew it couldn’t happen. The best we could hope for was keeping the dragons in Draconia.
He let me go.
He let me go.
In my mind’s eye, panic flashed across his features as he weighed every outcome, ran through each possible solution—coming up short.
There was nothing. We had nothing.
My hand slammed against the stone.
I would never see him again. There was nous.
I hated love.
When Freya returned, she peeled me off the balcony floor and cleaned me up enough to crawl into bed.
The sun rose, cruel and blinding, dragging another day behind it. And with it, the drive to chase whatever scraps of hope remained.
“I’m going to the library.” My voice cracked the silence.
Freya didn’t flinch. She paused mid-braid, eyes locked on my reflection in the mirror.
“Looking for inspiration?” she asked, fingers resuming their work. She wasn’t as fast as Edith—my heart splintered a bit more.
Kallias wouldn’t let anything happen to my maid, but being stranded in a foreign kingdom on the edge of war would never be a comfortable situation.
“Perhaps.”
She hummed, frowning as she tugged a stubborn strand into place. The tangles from the flight had taken forever to comb through. My cheeks no longer felt stretched raw—oils were finally working. My lip had begun to scab, slow to heal, and the bruising beneath my eyes deepened to dark, yellow-ringed shadows.
Freya caught my gaze in the mirror. “They’ll get worse before they improve.”
“That’s what the healers said.”
She finished the braid, and I slipped on worn boots while she straightened the room. When I reached the door, she followed. I turned, ready to object, but she beat me to it.
“Two sets of eyes are better than one. I’ll help you search.”
“Did Mother tell you to babysit me?” I scoffed.
“She didn’t need to.” She crossed her arms over her chest and arched a daring brow at me. “Your state last night said enough. And look at that! Lucky for you, I’m free today.”
I narrowed my eyes, lips pressed tight. She had a point. She’d grown up in this palace, understood its rules and buried meanings. Between her and Mother, they were the only ones who at least pretended to understand how I felt.
I sighed, showing my resignation. “Fetch me a cup of travel tea, then meet me there.”
She grinned and waved me off, splitting directions.
I crossed the Cireendium, slipping through an arch carved straight into the stone. The room beyond had low ceilings and narrow aisles. Shelves pressed in on all sides, a maze perfect for children to hide in, but a headache for adults.
