Page 30 of A Reflection of Lies and Truth

“There is a woman in Sharhavva who can teach you how to manage your magic.” I cross the room and pick up her hematite necklace.

Anger flares in Annora’s eyes as she turns from the window. “It’s not mine. It’s Lyra’s.”

I nod, knowing it would be inane to argue with Annora right now. “You need to put the hematite necklace back on.”

Her brow lifts. “Why?”

“Because you have flames inside you, and if they have no way of getting out, they will smolder like a volcano, and when you do finally release them, they will erupt without any way of controlling them. The hematite helps quiet them.”

I hold the necklace out to her.

“Yes, but if I’m not wearing it, I cannot cast Lyra’s magic.”

“If you don’t wear the hematite, Annora. You’ll never be able to manage it. It will manage you.”

Her brow pinches as she crosses the room and takes the hematite from me. She slips it on, then strides to her bed and snatches up a worn leather satchel and begins shoving items into it with a frenzied urgency. First, she grabs her cherished collection of seashells from the shelf. They clatter together as she drops them into the bag. Next, she yanks two surcoats from their hooks in the armoire, the fabric whispering in protest as she stuffs them into the satchel, followed by several pairs of pants, nightdresses, and chemises.

I stand motionless, watching as she moves around the room like a whirlwind. “What are you doing?”

“What does it look like I’m doing?” she snaps. “I’m leaving my family.”

She reaches for her cloak and pulls it on. With trembling fingers, she grabs her veil next and slips it over her face, the material fluttering with each shaky breath she takes.

The moment she stands facing me, the satchel clutched tightly against her chest, I open my mouth to speak, but she beats me to it, her words sharp and unyielding.

“Let’s go.”

“Annora…”

She blinks quickly and jerks her chin up. “I don’t want to talk.”

“At least leave your sisters a letter.”

Loose strands of reddish-brown hair fall against Annora’s face as she shakes her head at me. “If I stop to write a letter, I will not leave them.”

Her words sear into my chest like a serrated knife, cutting through me and wounding the part of me that cares deeply for her. The part that left a city on the brink of civil war for her. The part that defied all logic and reason just to be with her.

And now...

She’s only leaving because she feels she has no other choice.

I clench my jaw and move to the window. She follows me, her steps slow, sluggish, as if with each one she takes, she keenly regrets her decision.

I gesture to the window. “After you.”

Annora hesitates, her gaze drawn to the drop below. For a heartbeat, she lingers there, frozen, staring into the abyss, as if it might swallow her whole. Then, with a whispered prayer to Olah, she gathers her cotehardie in her hands and clambers over the weathered sill.

I follow close behind, and together we descend.

At the base of the fortress, Annora pauses and glances back, where moonlight limns the parapets in silver.

“I’m sorry, Ash,” she whispers, then she turns away, and I follow her into the inky blackness.

ChapterSeventeen

ANNORA

Jasce leadsme to a corner of the garden, where a gnarled old oak tree stands. Its branches reach out like twisted fingers, casting eerie patterns on the ground.

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