Page 115 of What Blooms from Death

She wore her usual, cheerful smile—that wasn’t strange. Whatwasstrange was how that smile seemed to be directed at me…I still wasn’t used to her regarding me with anything other than disdain.

She carried a large basket, which she promptly placed on the wall Zayn had just been sitting on. Without a word, she started to unpack it, setting an excessive amount of food along the still-shimmering stone. There were fruits of every shape and color, their skins glistening in the warm light of my magic; pastries with perfectly-browned crusts; a platter of various cheeses; bottles of drink fastened with corks and ribbons.

“What’s all this?” I asked.

“This would be what’s known asfood.”

“Yes, but why is it here?”

Why are you here?was what I truly wanted to ask. She had been working separately with Thalia and the others all morning, I knew—and, now that she was close, I could tell she was tired. Though her eyes were brighter, dark circles underneath betrayed the depth of her exhaustion. There were odd, bruise-colored smudges along her arms, too, as if the shadows that flowed so freely around her now had been considerably more violent when exiting her body.

She should have been resting.

Not that I cared.

“It’s here because someone told me you hadn’t eaten all morning,” she said with a shrug.

“Aveline?” That head maid was notoriously good at pushing her way into other’s business, I’d noticed.

Nova gave another shrug. “Just someone.”

“Why are you concerned about whether or not I’ve eaten?”

Instead of answering me, she finished unloading her basket and then walked along the wall, her eyes widening with interest as she traced her fingers over the ivy creeping over the stone, plucking one of the glowing flowers from it. “You did this?”

I nodded.

“Your magic continues to impress, even here.” She made her way back to the food, hoisting herself onto the wall and reaching for an apple with pinkish-gold skin. “I wondered how that would go.”

“…It’s getting more acclimated to the stifling protections that surround this palace, I suppose. But it’s still much more difficult to summon here than it was outside of it.”

She considered this, slowly chewing the fruit as her brow furrowed in concentration. “The air in here feels unnatural, doesn’t it?”

“It does. I wasn’t sure if you would notice it, given your magical alignment.”

“It’s not a…badfeeling, to me. But it’s overwhelming, almost. What’s happening inside here—what Calista did to protect this area—isn’t natural or sustainable, according to the laws of our worlds.” Her eyes glazed over as she stared at a distant wall of black stone, which separated the palace grounds from the dark, cursed lands outside of it. A few more bites of apple, and then she said, “My brother believes that the reason you and I have been able to bring things to life outside of this area—and tosustainthat life—is because it’s traditionally required both necromancy and luxmancy to rebalance the realms. To turn the Stone, to activate the magic to wake the worlds, and then to maintain them in a way that feels normal.”

I frowned, not sure I agreed with this theory. “Such magic always came from the Vaelora; I carry no mark of those beings.”

“I no longer have a visible mark, either—though I remember having a strange, star-shaped scar on my forearm, some time ago.” She shrugged. “I just thought it was a regular birthmark that faded with time.” She studied her arm, as if expecting the mark in question to make a reappearance.

When it didn’t, she lifted her gaze to mine and asked, “Do you think it’s possible you had something like that as well—something you’ve forgotten about—that your court and Keepers hid from you?”

Before the events of the past week, I would have answered with a quick and emphaticno; I’d been so certain of it all, what seemed like such a short time ago.

Now, I simply remained silent.

Nova sighed. “Whether you carry such a mark is irrelevant, I guess; Bastian seems to think—or at least wants to believe—that I can revive Noctaris on my own.”

“…You don’t believe there’s a way to do so?”

“I think there’s a reason a Vaelora was always born intoeachworld. Both kinds of magic matter. Even he admits that. They’re meant to work together; anything else feels like going against the nature of…well,everything.”

“Yes, but you don’t needmespecifically for my magic.”

“Don’t I?”

“I’m sure your brother and his followers are busy scheming other ways of getting the Light magic they need; perhaps siphoning it from Luminor, or otherwise. I’m only another vessel for such magic, after all.”Vesselwas a word the Keepers had often used to refer to me; I’d never thought much of it.

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