"You're not. You're—"
"I am," she cut him off, keeping her body relaxed on the cushions despite the sternness of her tone. The calmer she remained, the better. "Is there anything I can say to prove it to you?"
"No."
"Please, Elias." She tightened her grip on the teacup, releasing her frustration as her magic coiled beneath her skin. "Ask me any question, and I'll give you the answer."
"I don't believe your lies."
"I know that when you were fifteen you tried to kiss Cassi at the summer solstice ball and she nearly broke your nose." An uncertain groove dug into his forehead. She kept going. "Luka made fun of you for days, until you finally told him I kissed Theo the same night. Then I was the one who didn’t hear the end of it for weeks. All for an innocent peck on the lips!"
Lyana rolled her eyes and sighed, smiling slightly at the memory. Cassi hadn't even been sorry. It’d been another three years after that before Lyana had caught her kissing Luka in a weapons room off the side of the training arena. Now, that had been a shock.
"Oh, how about the first time you worked a night shift at the palace doors? You were trying to be a serious, disciplined guard. And you were doing a wonderful job, until Luka, Cassi, and I snuck out through the secret passage and spent the next hour making faces at you through the crystals. I've never seen your face so red. But you never tattled."
Lyana took a sip of tea and leaned farther back on the pillows, hardly even looking at Elias anymore, lost in the lightness of her youth. The past few months had been so heavy, the weight pressing down from all sides. It was nice to remember a time when life had been simple and carefree, when the worst she had to worry about was a not-so-stern lecture from her father or the sharp whip of her mother's wrath.
"Do you remember how excited we used to get when the front hall was open for market? This was before we could fly, of course. Only a handful of children lived in the palace, but on market days, everyone from Sphaira came to us. We used to run through the stalls, our laughter trailing behind. We used to hold hands, and spin and spin and spin, until we collapsed on the tiles, all giggles and downy feathers as we watched the adults soar overhead. I couldn’t wait to join them. I couldn't wait for the sky to be mine. I spent hours staring through the crystals, studying the clouds and the stars, the painted pastels of sunrise and the vivid streaks of sunset, endlessly waiting for the day when I could fly beyond the horizon, to just go and go and go, with no palace walls to stop me."
Now, all she had were barricades.
The bed sank as Elias took a seat at the far end, the smallest ounce of his body balanced on the edge, as though he might spring up at any moment. He turned toward her, something soft about his gaze, like the barest sliver of sunlight slipping through a break in the curtains to welcome the day.
"I should apologize to you," she said, holding onto that warmth. "I was a bit of a bully, I'm afraid, in my stubborn pursuit of adventure, especially during those last few days. I should've never forced you to dance with me when you'd wanted to go to bed. I should've never tricked you into drinking all that hummingbird nectar, until you didn't know which way was up or down or which foolish promises you were agreeing to. I probably never should've snuck out of the palace at all. If I hadn't, maybe none of this would've happened."
Even as she said it, she knew it wasn't true.
Malek would have found her, one way or another. He was even worse than she when it came to getting what he wanted, and his Queen Bred of Snow was the one thing he wanted most of all. But no matter their magic or the prophecy or the desires of his people, it wasn't his lips that she still felt on her skin, or his touch that haunted her sleeping mind, or his voice she sometimes heard on the wind. And when she closed her eyes, it wasn't his face she saw.
No matter what she told Elias, she would never take it back. Not her sneaking out. Not the dragon fight on the sky bridge. Most of all, not those hours spent surrounded by firelight and magic, healing a boy with the deepest, bluest eyes who'd completely changed her world.
"Lyana?"
She swallowed and blinked the images away. "Yes, Elias?"
"Are you really…"
He trailed off, leaning forward as he studied her, the caramel highlights in his eyes glittering as they caught the fire. She willed him to believe her, to trust her, to let go of his prejudices and know that even with magic she was the same person he'd grown up with.
For a moment, she thought it had worked.
Then the curtains snatched closed, leaving him in darkness. The light in his eyes went out and his face sealed off. Spine jolting straight as a blade, he jumped to his feet and backed away.
"Get out."
"Elias—"
"Get out," he shouted, voice cracking. "I don't know who you are. I don't know what magic this is. Please, please, just get out."
She'd lost him.
"Eat something, Elias," she said as she stood from the bed and walked slowly toward the door. "I'll leave you in peace, I promise. But your body is weak, and you need strength to heal. So please, eat something."
After Lyana stepped outside, she collapsed against the wall, her legs going weak. The rough edges of the stones scraped against her feathers as she slid down, her body falling with her spirit, until she sat slumped against the floor. Drawing her knees into her chest, she let her head fall back and closed her eyes. It did nothing to stop the silent tears from slipping out the corners and sliding down her cheeks.
She'd been close, so very close, to breaking through his defenses.
But she'd failed.
No, Lyana thought, drawing a shaky breath through her nose. No. I can't see it like that, like a loss. I almost got through to him. And next time, I will.
Hope.
That was what she needed to hold on to, for herself, for Elias, for her world above the clouds and these souls within the mist—hope that if she just tried hard enough, eventually she'd make a difference. If she could change just one mind, then maybe she could change them all. It was like learning her power all over again, or learning how to fly, or learning anything at all, really. She just had to take it one step at a time. Malek had written her people off, but she couldn't. She wouldn't.
Not yet.
Lyana repeated the thought, over and over again, until it became part of her. She repeated it like a prayer, slowly falling asleep to the lullaby in the words, a song made of hope and promise. She repeated it so thoroughly that when a nearby spike in spirit magic saturated the air, raising the hairs on her arms and tickling her skin, she hardly noticed. The outside world ceased to exist and she slipped peacefully into her dreams.
40
Rafe
Cassi was there. Cassi had seen him. Rafe kept his eyes peeled on the mist, studying the ashen vapors swirling in the wind. The king had been talking to someone—someone who wasn't there, someone who'd been little more than spirit.
Kasiandra. Cassi. Kasiandra. Cassi.
They're the same.
She was a dreamwalker. That's what Brighty had called it. She could separate her spirit from her body in sleep. She could dive inside people's minds.