“I have,” Rolan whispered.
Then he crushed the moth between his hands.
- CHAPTER 37 -A NOBLE SECRET
This was not like a relic from a monstrous Cryptic.
Rolan felt no surge of lightning in his veins, no swelling of Arcana in his limbs. He did not have to reach for it through the Hollow Path—instead, the strange magic reached forhim.
He felt a whisper over his scalp. A slight chill on his skin, like the first breeze of winter. Despite the coolness, inside his chest a warmth blossomed, as delicate as a flame curling on the edge of a leaf. This warmth flowed through him, gentle and soothing, filling up every corner of him. It pooled in the tips of his fingers and expanded in his belly. It searched out the shadows of his heart and brightened them, like a very small person with a little lamp moving all through his body, climbing up and down the stairwells of his bones, leavinga soft glow behind them every place they went. Like he was an old, abandoned house they were slowly bringing back to life.
It was all the best feelings he had ever experienced. It was the glint of pride in Luc’s eye when he wrote his name for the first time. It was the rich taste of Evaine’s leek and potato pie on his tongue. It was Anaya’s smile and the bounce of her honey-dark curls. It was the soft caress on his cheek by his mother’s hand, the mother he’d known for so short a time he couldn’t even picture her face. But as the white moth’s Arcana flowed through him, he caught the faintest glimpse of her, her long dark hair, her blue eyes, her soft smile. She formed in his memory the way clouds made shapes in the sky—there for a moment, then gone.
Rolan dragged in a breath, opening his eyes, a sudden jolt of urgency animating his limbs.
How long had he been standing there, soaking up all that magic for himself? What was hedoing?
“Rolan,” Evaine said carefully. “You’reglowing.”
He lifted his arms to either side and saw she was right. A faint white aura hung around him, as if he were bathed in sunlight.
Moving past her, he went to Luc. He couldn’t tell if the man was still breathing or if his heart was beating. There was no way to know if he was too late.
But he had to try. He had the light of all that was noble and good burning inside him, and he had to dosomething.
He climbed onto the bed and knelt beside the Arcanist’s too-still form. Then with a deep breath, he placed his hands on Luc’s chest and slowly exhaled.
“I wish,” he whispered.“I wish.”
The faint white glow on his skin began to shift, growing dimmer everywhere but his hands, where the light grew more intense. He stared unblinking as the noble Cryptic’s Arcana poured out of him, draining down his arms and tingling in the tips of his fingers. It soaked into Luc and spread over his body, encasing him in the same bubble of light that had surrounded Rolan.
“What are you doing?” Evaine breathed.
“I don’t know,” he replied honestly.
He watched Luc’s face. He knew he wasn’t imagining all of it. The color was returning to the man’s cheeks. The rough hairs of his beard curled slightly. His eyelids fluttered but didn’t quite open.
Luc gave a soft sigh.
“Truth save us,” Evaine breathed.
Rolan remained fixed in place, not daring to break contact with Luc too soon. He wanted to pour every ounce of that warm light into him, every last drop.
“Come on,” he whispered. “Come back.Come back.”
Evaine pressed her fingers to her lips, as if she wanted to say something but couldn’t bring herself to. She watched Luc’s face too, a tear escaping the corner of her eye and tracing its way down her cheek.
Rolan felt his body go cold as the last of the white Cryptic’s Arcana drained from him.
The loss left him hollow and numb, as if he’d woken from a wonderful dream but couldn’t remember any of the details.
Then he slumped over, his eyes rolling back. He heard Evaine call his name before the now familiar murk of the world of secrets pulled him under.
I stand in my underwear, pinning wet clothes to a line. It’s washing day, the sun at its blazing midsummer zenith. Hot enough to fry bacon on the roof, my old master used to say. I wonder if I gave him half as much trouble as my apprentice gives me. Probably not. I took up the Arcanist’s apprenticeship as a grown man.
This boy, on the other hand, seems determined to put both me and himself into an early grave.
“Get down from there!” I snap. “What have I told you about dancing on the roof?”
