Page 100 of Hearts Lost

By the time the kettle hisses, Orryen and Elanerill are sitting with their backs against the wall, Arryn is pacing frenetic circles through the puddles on the floor, and Lythienne looks paler and older than I’ve ever seen her look. Through some miracle, there’s a box of stale tea in the pantry and a jar of what looks to be sad, ancient slices of dried apple. I hand out mugs of hot tea, feeling like a battlefield medic tending to the injured, and then settle down next to Ithronel.

“He’s a strong one, that Phaedron,” Lythienne finally says, breaking the oppressive silence in the little cabin. “Strong like his brother.”

Arryn stops pacing and turns to Lythienne with an expression that’s caught halfway between a sneer and some sort of desperate, childlike plea.

“We’ll find him,” Lythienne continues. “We will find both of them, I swear it. It’s just going to take some time.”

Lythienne glances down at the angry red of her burned palms. Orryen clears his throat.

“We’ll find out who we can trust,” Orryen says. “Now that I know what to look for, we’ll determine which magicians can be trusted. Who can help with… this.”

Arryn’s teeth sink into her lower lip. The wild, dark curls framing her face tremble.

“While we’re working,” Orryen continues, looking at Arryn, “you’re welcome to stay in the palace with us.”

Arryn tosses her hair back over her shoulder. There’s an odd glint in her eye that reminds me of Rowan; it’s unsettling.

“Thank you,” Arryn replies. “But I can’t. I’m the only sentry in the World’s End, now.”

By the time I’ve processed the intent behind her words, Arryn has pulled her cloak off the wall, fastened it over her shoulders, and turned to the door.

“Please,” Arryn says, with her hands on the latch, “keep me informed.”

Orryen comes to his feet, slowly and stiffly, then nods at her.

“Of course,” Orryen says. “You’ll be the very first to know anything, I promise.”

Arryn tilts her head, a brief little nod of acknowledgement, then pushes the door open. Cold air blasts into the room like it’s been searching for an opportunity to steal the warmth of the fire. Ithronel shivers next to me, and then Arryn is gone, the door slamming behind her.

Madwoman. In the few weeks she’s been here, that crazy Lady Arryn from the Worlds Above somehow captured both Rowan’s recklessness and Phaedron’s bull-headed loyalty to the scummy little town of World’s End. I shake my head at the closed door, then turn to Ithronel. Voids below, are all the women of the Kingdom of the Summer recklessly brave?

“We should get back too,” Orryen says. “Lythienne? Are you able to travel?”

“Of course,” Lythienne replies, managing to look slightly offended by the question.

Orryen turns to me and lifts an eyebrow. I nod as Ithronel shivers again.

“Should I stay here, then?” Ithronel asks.

Her voice is clear and strong, twisting at the end, almost like she’s trying to make a joke. Or trying to leave a joke as an excuse, a way to hide her intention if her words are misinterpreted. But Orryen, voids bless him, looks at Ithronel like he will always take her seriously.

“You are an honored guest of King Galan,” Orryen says. “You will always be welcome in the palace, Ithronel. And, to be honest, we’re going to need your help. Now more than ever.”

Ithronel glances from Orryen to me, a tight smile on her lips.

“You told your family you were taking me somewhere secure,” she says, in a voice that’s almost a whisper.

I reach for her hand and wrap my fingers around it.

“Well, it’s hard to get more secure than King Galan’s palace,” I reply. “But I’ll take you anywhere you want to go.”

Her cheeks darken, and she lets her gaze fall to the place where our fingers are twisted together.

“I’d like to go wherever you are,” she whispers.

Her eyes flicker up to meet mine, wide and glistening in the firelight, and suddenly I don’t care that we’re no longer alone, that we’re sitting in front of the future king and the head magician, that I’ve spent all my life trying to follow the rules, to prove I was capable of earning my place in this world and not just born into something I didn’t deserve. Suddenly, all that matters is the woman sitting beside me with tears in her eyes.

I lean forward and kiss her, softly, a kiss that holds a promise.

“Please do,” I whisper. “I love you.”

Ithronel pulls back and smiles at me.

“I know,” she whispers back. “I love you, too.”

I kiss her again, then help her come to her feet as Orryen, Elanerill, and Lythienne all find other places to look. Then Orryen pulls open the door, and a gust of cold air greets us as Ithronel and I walk into the darkness of the Lands Below, arm in arm. Together.