He’s lying!I smirk. But why? What doesn’t he want me to know? For the life of me, I can’t remember anything about that constellation. The only reason I remember it is because I want to be a famous archer someday.
“That’s okay.” I let him off the hook. “I still think that particular grouping of stars is pretty.”
Sylar’s face is creased with suspicion. Damn. I killed the mood. After a long, awkward moment of silence, he picks up his quill and begins drawing in the last little corner of empty space. Rather than the hasty, rushed sketches from earlier, he handles these stars with meticulous care, as if crafting a work of art. When he’s finished, Sylar carefully tears off the corner of the parchment paper and hands it to me. The magical ink seems to shimmer brighter when I recognize it.
My heart races as I stare at the constellation. He drew this for me. Because I said it was pretty. A spark of genuine happiness warms my chest an instant before it flares across my cheeks, making me suddenly very aware of how hard I’m smiling. No one besides my sister has given me anything just because I liked it.
“Thank you,” I whisper.
“You keep it,” he says nonchalantly, but I don’t miss the fact that his blush has spread down his neck before disappearing into his tunic.
Folding the parchment into a neat square, he tucks it into his textbook and stands. “Have a safe journey, Raelin. I hope you learn everything you hope to with your archery tutor.”
I don’t reply, suddenly shy for the first time in my life. Sylar doesn’t wait for my response. He just tucks his book under his arm and makes his way down the street. I watch him go,surprised that he would finally talk to me on the day that I’m leaving. I blink down at the constellation with a strange yet happy feeling swirling in my stomach. I might not know the story behind this constellation, but I do know something else I can’t seem to shake.
Someday I will marry that elf.
Chapter one
Sylar
(Presentday.)
The midsummer sun streams through Moonscliffe Library’s stained-glass windows, painting the floorboards in rich pools of sapphire and soft lavender. Up here in the quiet sanctuary of the private study, a galaxy of dust motes dances in the light like tiny shimmering stars. I pack away my quills and study references, trying hard to ignore the sudden tightness in my chest. Isolde is packing her things as well. Our final tutoring session is officially over, and the realization hits me in a way I never prepared for.
I turn my gaze to the young Elven lady, offering her a reassuring smile. “How do you feel?” I ask.
She beams at me. “I can’t believe this is the end of our time here together,” she replies in a singsong voice that reminds me of her brother’s confident charm.Maybe their sunny personalities are just something that runs in the family.Isolde is smiling as she gathers her books, clutching them to her chest like a treasure.
“Indeed, it’s been a true pleasure tutoring you.” And I mean every word. It really has been wonderful. Isolde is brilliant, passionate about her studies, and quick-witted.
“You’re seriously my favorite tutor, you know.”
I scoff. “You probably just say that because you’re best friends with my sister.”
She smacks me playfully. Now that I’m no longer her official tutor, I let it pass, guiding her out of the private room and into the main library.
“Talia has nothing to do with this. You are so freaking talented, and interesting, and fascinating,” she gushes. “And you make tutoring go by so much faster than any of those old snobs.”
“Isolde! You can’t talk about your other tutors like that.” But even as the words leave my mouth, a smile tilts my lips. “Only you would pay me such compliments.”
She rolls her eyes. “I’m not the only one,” she mutters under her breath, causing me to narrow my eyes. We make our way through the library. Elves all around us study the ancient texts as we quietly meander between the shelves toward the front exit.
“Anyway, I’m curious why you decided to end our lessons with the story of the Traveler’s Lantern. Out of all the celestial stories out there, why that one?”
Warmth fills my chest when she finishes speaking. She’s always had a curious mind. It’s why she’s one of my favorite students. I like to imagine some of the young elves I tutor growing up and finding their true passions. I know she’ll go far.
“I love that you actually asked why. You’re the only student this year to ask. When I was around your age—”
She barks out a laugh, interrupting me. “Around my age? Dear stars, Sylar, you make it sound like you’re an elder. You’re only twenty-eight, for heaven’s sake.”
“Twenty-seven,” I correct.
Isolde rolls her eyes. “Exactly.”
“You’re even younger than I thought you were. Stop acting like you’re one of those old farts.”
We weave our way down the cobblestone path. “Well, compared to you, Iamold, so respect your elders, brat.”
