Page 162 of What Blooms from Death

He chuckled. “It’s a bit hard tonotmeet beneath a painting of the damnable woman, isn’t it? This palace is rather obsessed with her.”

“Very true.” As before, the turquoise bracelet on my wrist reacted as I stared up at the former Vaelora of Noctaris. The beaded bangle tightened to the point that it made me wince, and Zayn gave me a curious look.

I smiled through the discomfort, stepping away from the painting. Recalling my brother’s theory that the bracelet reacted to large concentrations of pure Vaeloran magic, I scanned our surroundings, searching for some other sign of it. Perhaps the protective spells she’d laid over this palace were anchored in all the artworks of her, somehow?

Whatever the reason, I couldn’t settle my powers enough to make any sense of it all. As the pain became nearly unbearable, I turned and continued my stroll down the hallway.

Zayn followed, his hands in his coat pockets and his expression thoughtful.

“Will you join us at dinner tonight?” I asked, still trying to distract myself from my restless magic and the bracelet that channeled it, which remained entirely too tight on my arm.

“Aleks didn’t seem to think either of us should,” he replied, keeping his gaze straight ahead. “He agreed to skip it after speaking with Bastian, as I understand it.”

I could hear unspoken concerns in his tone, so I said, “There will be other meetings for him to attend.”

“Perhaps.”

“…I still believe balance is possible. That’s the strategy I intend to suggest, first and foremost, at this first meeting. Once they’ve warmed up to the idea, we’ll introduce Aleks and Luminor.”

“And if the other leaders of Noctaris refuse to entertainanyof these ideas?”

My tone hardened. “Then they don’t get my cooperation, either.”

He regarded me with a long, searching look, as though he was trying to determine how serious I was. Finally, he chuckled quietly and said, “You know, you turned out stronger than I expected, in the end.”

I brushed the compliment aside. “Well, it’s not really the end, yet,” I said, focused on twisting the beads of my bracelet around. They felt oddly warm.

“No,” he agreed, “I suppose it isn’t.”

We walked deeper into the main part of the palace. I caught the scent of the feast being prepared once more, reminding me that I was due in the banquet hall soon. We said our goodbyes, but I found myself hesitating, feeling as if things between us were unfinished.

“We’ll talk later,” I assured him. “And tell Aleks I’ll find him after this is all done, too.”

He didn’t reply right away; his eyes had glazed over and a shadow of something unreadable flickered across his face, as though his mind had drifted far away.

“Zayn?”

“Sorry.” He blinked, his eyes refocusing and his usual, easygoing smile returning in an instant. “It’s just…your dress.”

“My dress?”

“It reminds me of the one you wore on the night of the Moonweaver Festival.”

So my efforts to recreate that piece had not been in vain.

“You were beautiful that night,” he said, “and you’re beautiful now.”

I blushed, mumbling a thank you under my breath. I started to turn away, unsure of what else to say—then a realization struck me, freezing me to the spot.

Slowly, I fixed my gaze back on his.

“Is something wrong?” he asked.

I swallowed hard, trying to dislodge the lump that had formed in my throat. “…How do you know what I looked like that night?”

He didn’t reply, but that easy smile never left his face.

The rest of the room faded around us as I took a step back. “It was two years ago. You…you were trapped in the Below two years ago. You weren’t…you…”

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