Page 98 of Hearts Lost

“My sister,” I blurt.

Everyone in the room turns to stare at me.

“My sister Amarille,” I continue, the idea taking shape as the words spill from my lips. “She’s a magician in King Grathgore’s court. Lythienne, I’m sure she could help you. And Grathgore’s palace isn’t warded, it couldn’t be, or you never would have been able to open the portal to Elanerill’s chamber.”

Lythienne frowns. Something like panic rises in my chest, forcing the words from my mouth.

“I don’t have heart magic,” I say, pressing on, “but she is my sister, and that’s got to be similar, right? If love could activate those weapons, any love, then maybe any love could help aim the portal? And if you just got close to the Kingdom of the Summer, just inside the palace walls, I could lead you to her.”

Some distant part of me notes that I sound frantic, like I’m grasping at straws. But Arryn is watching me with wide eyes, and Phaedron is nodding. Lythienne exhales in a long, slow hiss, then turns to me.

“You can’t go through the portal,” Lythienne says.

It takes me a moment to realize this is not exactly the same as saying no. Lythienne shakes her head, then waves her hand at me.

“You need to anchor it,” Lythienne continues. “So you can’t go through.”

“I’ll go,” a voice says from behind Lythienne.

It’s Phaedron, of course. His left hand rests awkwardly on the hilt of his massive sword, and somehow the fact that he’s now soaking wet makes him look less like a heroic rescuer and more like a man trying to come to terms with the fact that he’s going to throw himself through a hole in the world.

“So will I,” Lady Arryn adds.

For just a heartbeat, she meets my eyes. I nod. Of course, Lady Arryn should go. She knows the Royal Court of the Kingdom of the Summer better than anyone in this room, save for me.

Lythienne gives us all another wide, beaming smile that’s pulled a bit too tight around the edges to be convincing.

“Good,” Lythienne says. There’s an edge to her voice that’s as sharp as a blade, and we all choose to ignore it. “Third time’s the charm, then.”

She winces as she picks up the last silver sphere, Grathgore’s last magical weapon, and then closes her eyes. Magic hums through the little room, swirling like heat in the void. Aloserin squeezes my hand. I close my eyes.

I think of my sister.