Page 8 of Daughter of the Darkened City

“I’ve told you to drop that subject many times. Do you want this research position or not?”

Avenay nodded. She wanted it more than anything—she’d been furiously heading towards that goal for years. The only problem was that there were more people for the jobs than there were jobs to fill. She’d worked tirelessly for the last ten years to become fluent in eight languages, three of which were dead, two of which she was one of only a handful of people in the world who were proficient in. She had translated three ancient texts and won awards for the work.

Still, she had been told to wait for a position as a researcher and professor at the university. Currently, her talents were used as a scribefor an archangel of the city—the rulers for all the angels of that region. And defeating as that was, it was secondary to her secret hope.

Because she had pursued all of this with a single-minded focus: to find a cure for her sister. If she could get a position as a researcher, she would have clout and resources, and she could put together an expedition to find the fabled city of Cirro. Where the tales said there was a well of magic. One that could cure any ailment.

Which, of course, was precisely what Lucas was telling her to let go. He thought she was crazy for thinking it had once been an actual place.

To be fair, everyone thought she was crazy.

Her sister, Seraphina, was the only one who occasionally indulged her, but she always said it dreamily, as if it were just a fantasy. Seraphina also didn’t believe Cirro was real.

Avenay needed it to be.

But at the moment, she needed to pretend she didn’t think that way, just so she could get the job.

“I know,” she replied, her tone unconvincing. Lucas raised a brow. “I know. I just…Well, there’s compelling evidence and I’ve compiled all of it and I would be so much less nervous presenting my findings for that.” Her mind ran through the proof she had, her next wordstumbling out like water bursting from a dam. “The Entailish word for Cirro is Evolis, which is a city mentioned in the epic poem by Toler, which only mentions other very real cities. Why would he include a city only mentioned inThe Tales of Lemia? At the very least, it’s a fascinating theory and—”

“It’s insane, Avenay. Those who chase fables as truth waste their lives on madness. You’re too bright for that.” His face softened, and he gave her a smile. A pitying look she hated. “I know why you want it to be true. And I want it to be true too. But don’t spend your life obsessed with death and dying so much that you forget you’re breathing right now.”

Avenay felt that funny feeling that often rose in her. She never could name it, just like she couldn’t with any of her emotions. But it clogged in her throat, tightened around her chest, and made her head feel like it was throbbing with lightning.

“I study dead languages and histories of dead people. Being obsessed with death is my exact job description.”

Lucas chuckled, his eyes twinkling. “You’re always funny, Avenay.”

She hadn’t meant to be funny, though. She was serious. And maybe a little livid. She shut that emotion down. She shut them all down. What did it matter if no one believed her? She heard their whispersabout her. They all called her mad. Lucas had managed to make it seem like she was just a quirky academic, hyper fixated on a subject like so many of the most brilliant minds before her were. But this wasn’t some hobby she couldn’t get out of her head.

It was her sister’s salvation.

And maybe she was crazy. But she would rather be crazy in clinging to hope than sane and clutching despair.

“You don’t have to worry about me, Lucas,” she said, voice steady, face a calm mask. “I’ll keep my mouth shut on the subject.”

Stars blinked overhead as Avenay walked from the university back home. Tall, round trees lined the streets, all carved out on the inside for apartments. Balconies overflowed with flowers and drying clothes hung from one apartment to the next. Swing bridges connected the apartments in interconnecting pathways that hung above the streets below. Seraphs dipped and flew from one to the next, dropping onto the bridges and balconies. Structures built around and between the strong redwood trees created larger buildings. Music drifted from the topmost ones where restaurants and bars were. Avenay looked at the lights from the bustling social scene and sighed. She had eaten dinner with Mavise and they’d invited her to go out with them, but she wastoo nervous about preparing for travel. And Avenay had never been one to go out.

Lucas’ words rattled in her head. She’d spent so much of her life chasing away the specter of death that followed her sister that she wondered if life passed her by. She’d had so few experiences.

Seraphina, on the other hand, had attacked life with a vengeance, even before she’d shown signs of the same sickness that claimed their mother all those years ago. Seraphina had traveled with friends all over Medeis. She’d had plenty of lovers, she’d gone on so many adventures, and gone to all the best social gatherings. She’d won the affection of a duke that everyone expected to propose any day. He was aware of her illness but never backed down in his love for her. The gossip pages,The High Fliers, covered their story as if it were the most beautiful and tragic romance in the world. Avenay supposed it was.

Because Seraphina would die, and soon.

The physicians and medical mages all said the same thing. Less than a year. Maybe a year if she was careful and took it easy.

Seraphina refused to.

“You look grim,” a dark voice said.

A seraph stepped up next to her, matching her stride. Cyrus was tall, even by seraph standards. His muscles gave an obscene display ofstrength, and he wore the white and gold armor of the Lesern guard, the colors contrasting beautifully against his dark skin.

“I’m just thinking about love,” Avenay said.

Cyrus rolled his eyes, the red and orange feathers of his wings ruffling. “Who is she?”

Cyrus and she had grown up together, chasing each other up and down the streets, playing all day, every day. Their parents had planned their wedding, but that was before Cyrus had declared to Avenay that she liked girls and that was when Avenay had realized she did indeed like girls, and she’d been angry with him ever since for knowing her better than she knew herself.

That was an annoying trait of his. Always seeing everyone exactly for who they were. That trait meant that Cyrus had hated all of Avenay’s exes, though, because he had known immediately that they weren’t who Avenay thought they were. For all her academic strength and her acute observation skills in study, she couldn’t read people well and she often fell in love with their potential, only for them to not live up to it.

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