Page 69 of Embers of Ruin

A smile tugs at my lips. “Thank you.”

Neither of them answers. They simply bow as I step inside my room and the door clicks shut behind me.

For a long moment I stand there staring at nothing but thinking of everything.

A prophecy.

A Cursebreaker.

A cure.

I don't know why those words refuse to leave me alone. But for the first time since arriving in Andell… I find myself hoping they’re true. Because if they are… I might find the sun one day.

CHAPTER 17

Imanage to get out of Mazelle's training for a few days by claiming I’m too sore to move. It wasn't entirely a lie—my body ached after she spent the better part of a day introducing me to the ground, but Onyx watched the cuts and bruises disappear before his eyes. He knew I could heal myself. He didn’t report that to her, though.

That night, after Talia and Grace scrubbed the sand from my hair, fussed over every bruise, and tucked me into bed like I was made of glass, I did exactly what Thorin had taught me weeks ago. I closed my eyes, found the places that still hurt, and let my magic flow through them. One by one, the aches disappeared until there was nothing left but exhaustion.

The next morning, I lied again. I told Mazelle I could barely walk. I think my performance was entirely believable. She didn’t look convinced, but she let me have a few days off.

I spent the following days hiding away in my chambers with scrolls and texts from the archives, parchment, and charcoal, enjoying the quiet for the first time since arriving at the palace. But tonight…

Tonight I’m going to do exactly what they don’t want me to do—I’m going to roam the palace.

I slip out of my chambers, silently thanking Illurine there aren’t guards waiting outside. I have no destination in mind, only the overwhelming desire to be somewhere else. I don’t even bother changing, still wearing one of the thin nightgowns from the armoire. At this hour, I don’t expect to run into anyone.

I'm halfway down the corridor when a familiar chill snakes across my skin. My magic stirs instantly and I turn, looking into a familiar pair of stormy gray eyes.

Thorin.

“Hmm.” He studies me thoughtfully. “I was told you were too sore to walk, and yet... here you are, practically running. Trying to escape, muya mivanti?”

There it is again. Muya mivanti. Whatever it means. He keeps saying it as though I’m supposed to understand. Maybe he’s insulting me in Old Andari. Maybe it’s some ancient curse. Either way, I’m not about to ask. That would require admitting that I’m curious, and I’d rather throw myself back into a training session with Mazelle than give him that satisfaction. Besides, I have far more immediate concerns.

He caught me.

Which means there’s a very real chance I’m about to be dragged back to the Sacred Gardens and forced to play gardener again.

Gods, no.

My gaze is locked on his when his eyes travel over me, so slowly that I become painfully aware of my appearance. Heat rushes to my cheeks as I remember what I’m wearing. The ivory nightgown is made of the softest material I've ever touched, its lace-trimmed bodice slipping low across my shoulders while the whisper-thin fabric falls almost weightlessly to the floor. It was certainly not designed for modesty.

And I chose tonight of all nights to wander the palace in it.

“I haven’t seen you in days. I thought you died and I missed the royal funeral.” I break the silence with humor that isn’t as well thought out as my usual comebacks. It was actually pretty awful.

Gods, I’m in trouble.

“How very bleak of you. I’m alive and well, but thank you for your misplaced concern.”

His gaze settles on mine again. “Unless you’ve missed my presence?”

His lips tug at the corners, and there it is again. I can’t stop my eyes from roaming his face, sliding over the rest of him before returning to those smoky gray eyes.

“Thorin—”

“If you are about to bring up the past, don’t. It does not matter.”