I stare at him. “I was just getting some air.”
“Right. That’s what he said, too.” The ghost of a smile crosses his face. “If you feel likegetting some airtogether, you could probably find him at the sea organ. It’ll be abandoned tonight with the celebrations raging in the center of the city.”
My mouth parts to retort, then closes again before a single sound escapes.
“Don’t tell him I sent you,” he orders gruffly, still grinning. “Unless it goes well. In which case, I expect full credit.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Sure you don’t. Forget I said anything.”
His laughter rings in my ears as I start down the path again. I forgo the aviary altogether, abruptly too restless to stop moving. My pulse is pounding far too quickly for no reason at all. A panicky sort of energy sizzles through my veins. One I cannot account for.
I’m simply going to clear my head, as I told Cadogan. I want a quiet place to contemplate my correspondence. I have absolutely no intentions of tracking anyone down. Least of all someone who does not wish to be found.
Soren wants to be alone.
I should respect that.
Iwillrespect that.
My thoughts are a tangle of contradictions as I walk aimlessly through the moonlit gardens, watching fyrewisps flash a rainbow of hues among the heavenly white florals. I’m not paying much attention to my overall direction, sandled feet taking turns at random. Before I know it, the gardens have fallen away and I’m passing through the lemon grove, then opening the warded gate that leads out onto the upper ramparts.
The night presses close as I make my way along the top of the walls, passing by several guard posts, where uniformed Hylians stare soberly out at the dark sea as sounds of distant celebration echo from the city below. Otherwise, there’s hardly a soul around. Like Vaughn mentioned, most everyone is gathered at the crux of the canals tonight.
My favorite bench by the Westerly Beacon is, unsurprisingly, unoccupied. I settle onto it, thankful they’ve lit the torches atop the walls even if there’s no one else around to use them. For a few moments, I stare out at the ebony ocean, listening to the crash of swells against stone, imploring my nerves to settle. I still feel strangely jittery as I work one fingertip beneath the wax seal of the letter, prying it loose. Allowing the parchment to furl open, my eyes drink in the fluid elegance of Carys’s words.
Dearest Rhya,
I have two favors to ask of you in this letter.
The first is that you forgive me for not writing back sooner. I assure you, your letters were not cast into the flames, as you feared, but savored, word by word, sentence by sentence.
I have loved reading of your new life in Hylios. The shops you described sound amazing. I imagineI could learn a lot from Llyr’s most talented craftsmen. I hope I’ll get to visit someday. In the interim, maybe you can send a sample of the glyphed fabric you described so I can study it for my own designs? I haven’t touched my needles in ages, but lately I’ve had the urge to pick them up again.
I confess, it’s been difficult to see through the fog of grief. I think it will always be difficult. That fog will never lift, not truly.
But my eyes are beginning to adapt.
When I looked around a fortnight ago and realized you were no longer in Caeldera, I was disappointed in myself. I cannot help feeling that I played some small part in your leaving. Or in your staying away.
In my sorrow, I withdrew from our friendship. I closed the door and kept it bolted against all chances at reconciliation. I cannot deny my actions or undo them. I can only attempt to explain my reasons, for they are not what you think.
I do not hold you responsible for what happened to Uther. Not for any of it, darling girl. The idea of you carrying the burden of his death breaks my heart. And, frankly, if Uther knew you were blaming yourself, he would be furious.
Twice now you’ve saved the lives of me and my son—the day he came into this world and the day his father fled it. Without you, neither Nevin nor I would still be here.
Our savior, twice over.
That is who you are to my family.
That is what you mean to me.
Please do not ever allow yourself to think otherwise.
I must also thank you for sending Lestyn into our lives. At first, his unexpected appearances barely registered in my mind. But over these past few weeks, I’ve made more of an effort to get to know the boy. When I discovered he’d lost his parents on Fyremas, and learned he’d been sleeping at the infirmary most nights…
Well, I simply couldn’t allow that to go on. After some persuading, he’s agreed to take up the second bedroom in the apartments above my shop. Temporarily. (Or so he believes.)