Page 82 of Embers of Ruin

The question surprises him, and he has to work to put his mask back on now.

Onyx’s brows draw together. “What?”

“With him. In this palace. Serving a king you clearly argue with more than any captain should survive. You are without a doubt the most out-of-line Captain in any kingdom.”

His expression shutters and I almost laugh.

“There it is. The wall. You and Thorin both do that. Different faces. Same miserable habit.”

“Lyra.”

“No, no.” I shake my head, throwing my hand up. “I know what you’re about to say and honestly—I’m tired. I’m tired of what all of you say. You can’t tell me. It’s not yours to say. I’m not ready. The moon is in the wrong position. Pick whichever excuse is most fashionable today.”

His mouth twitches despite his efforts to hold it in. Finally, he says, “I stay because leaving would make some things worse.”

It’s not enough. But it’s more than he usually gives. I study him for a long moment, trying to decide whether to push. His face gives me nothing, but his eyes are tired. Not tired like a man who missed sleep. Tired like a man standing between two fires and knowing eventually he will burn no matter which way he turns. The anger in me softens around the edges.

I wish it wouldn’t, but it does.

“You looked worried,” I say.

“When?”

“When I hit him.”

His jaw tightens and I expect him to deny it but he doesn’t. “I was.”

“For him or me?”

The question hangs between us.

He looks at me then, and whatever I see in his face makes my breath catch.

“Both.”

Oh. Nope, I don’t know what to do with that.

So naturally, I ruin it. “How noble. Worrying about everyone. You must be exhausted.”

His mouth curves faintly. “Constantly, but that is my burden to bear.”

We continue walking. The silence this time is not comfortable, but it’s gentler when a friendship-that’s-not-a-friendship is on the brink of ruin. By the time we reach my chamber, the trembling in my hands has mostly stopped. Onyx pauses outside the door, and for a moment I think he might say something else. Something important… or something dangerous.

Instead, he reaches out and lightly touches the back of my hand. Just once. A brief pressure, gone before I can decide whether to pull away.

“Rest,” he says.

I make a face. “Yes, I’ve heard that a time or two.”

“Maybe everyone has a point.”

“Here? Highly unlikely, Onyx.”

His smile is small but real. Then he turns and leaves.

I step into my chamber and close the door behind me, leaning against it until the sound of his footsteps fades. Only then do I let my breath shake. I cross to the mirror slowly and stare at myself. My braid has loosened. Silver curls frame my face in wild strands. There is a smear of dirt across one cheek, and my lips are parted as if I have just run a great distance. I lift my hand and press it against my own chest, over the place where my palm touched Thorin.

For one moment, I feel it again, reliving the past hour. His heartbeat. The recoil of his shadows. The cold edge of his mind brushing against mine. The golden wall inside me, old and locked and not made by me.