Page 83 of The Silversmith

“Damond?” I called, turning in my seat to see where he’d gone.

Gavin lowered his book at the sound of my voice. Our eyes met before I could stop myself. The heated, silent plea in his gaze was a catalyst to my pulse. It ricocheted around the chambers of my heart until I forced myself to look at Damond as he approached.

“Yes, Ary?” He sidled up to the table.

I pointed to the end of the book. “Why are these pages blank?”

“It’s copied from the original. I believe all the copies are that way.”

“Well, where’s the original?”

Damond chuckled. “The Selvaren only knows. It would be at least a thousand years old.”

My brow furrowed as I looked down at my hands. There was no trace of these powers in or around the fair, lightly freckled skin of my fingers. They looked as weak and helpless as I had felt in Warrich.

Fuming, I scanned those ancient pages again and again. The Book of the Selvaren had plenty to say about the deities and their histories, but nothing to suggest how a mortal might wield their powers.

My hunger and thirst eventually overpowered me, exhaustion surpassing frustration. I broke the hours-long silence and told Gavin that I was ready to go. When he sensed my chagrin, the concern in his face was clear, but I walked out before he could pry.

For the rest of that day, I fought the urge to get close to him. No matter how badly I longed to share my frustrations, to ask his input, I knew I had to get used to doing things on my own.

Still, what Damond had said about Gavin giving up his home for Gemma and Finn just to give them time alone after years of separation stuck with me. It was kind. It was good. And if Damond was right, Gavin was generous not just for their sake, but for mine as well.

He made them happy to see me happy.

And while that did make me happy, it also made me ache.

***

We were in Tovick longer than planned, and I spent most of that time training or in the library. I memorized nearly every detail in The Book of the Selvaren and imprinted Finn’s map of Nyrida in my memory. I was scared to forget any of it, like so many details of my youth. But perhaps those details weren’t useful. Maybe my mind and body knew it would need to become an endless repository for this information. That nothing else would matter more to me than this.

Daily, the others questioned Gavin why we had yet to depart for Brinnea.

I knew why they pushed him, why they wanted to go. My friends wanted to be done with him. Finn and Caz remained mostly neutral, but Gemma and Ezra were tired of his snide comments regarding Elias Winterton and the Caves and the not-so-subtle hints that he hated the idea of me in a place of confinement. I’d be queen, yes, but I’d be required to be the type of queen Simeon felt the people needed—the dutiful ruler foretold in Christabel’s prophecy.

Because if I did not become what was needed, if I didn’t succeed in my duty, then people would die. The weight was heavy, but I carried it. And during the past week in Tovick, I had done what I needed to do to make it bearable.

First, I’d insisted that all training sessions be group sessions. Sometimes even Damond joined us. While Gavin watched and instructed me, I made every effort to keep my distance.

I wasn’t cold or rude. I’d already forgiven him for his surprise attack the week prior, knowing I’d needed a push. But I gave him no more attention than I gave the others, and I stomped out any urges to spare a second of time alone with him.

More than once, he requested I join him on an errand or requested an extra training session. I refused them all, tearing my gaze away from the rejection in his eyes before it could let it break my resolve.

Damond’s lighthearted presence helped distract me. When we weren’t in the library, he taught me how to use a bow and arrow. It was his personal favorite but felt impossible to perfect. I missed, and I missed, and I nearly gave up. The dull ache in my shoulder was a pest. But just like every exercise and movement I learned, my body adjusted, my muscles strengthened, and the pain gradually dissipated.

Ezra and I began each morning with a run. Of the men, he was the youngest and least experienced in combat—even though it had been two years since he passed through Elias’s Commencement. I asked plenty of questions about my betrothed. Tried to make myself interested. I learned that he was born during the fifth month of the year—Floris—and adored his grandmother, Ophelia, above all else.

Except for me. A woman he’d never met. A prophecy. An idea.

So, when Ezra told me how excited Elias was to meet me, I forced a smile and believed that my cousin thought it was true.

Gemma spent most nights with Finn in Gavin’s library basement across town. Every day, they came to breakfast with smiles on their faces, and every day, I felt the same twinge of jealousy in my chest. But I kept it hidden. I was happy for them, but I couldn’t help but… wish.

Gavin continued to place outrageous amounts of food in front of me. I ate without objection, both to avoid any confrontation and because I could feel myself growing stronger. And when I looked at my naked body in the mirror before a bath, my ribs were harder to see.

Besides, at least eight hours of training a day made me constantly hungry.

I managed to avoid the tension with Gavin and distract myself from the ache of missing his closeness.