Page 69 of Her Shadow so Dark and Lovely
“You know why,” Sila says, gently taking my hands. “Because you are loved, Lorel, and I hope one day you will understand that you are worthy of it.”
I open my mouth to protest, though I’ve no idea what words I intended. They flee my mind entirely as Sila presses a finger to my lips. Her hand drops to pull down my shift, her fingers skating over my skin. It is, I remember, what I had been trying to check in my earlier delirium. I look down where her fingers rest, the soot black mark of the curse is gone but where the dark ember-like centre had been there is a twisted circle of scar tissue marking my flesh. Sila hisses as her fingers pass over it, and then, quite unexpectedly, she laughs. The chamber is suddenly full of the strange, bright sound.
“You still bear the Heart’s mark,” Sila says. “A memory of it.”
I look up at her. “What does that mean?”
“That I will never leave you, Lorel, and that I will always, always come for you,” she says. “Remember that.”
Chapter 41
Lorel
Lune returnsin short order with an assortment of clothes and a pair of boots to replace my flimsy silk slippers. Most blessedly of all, she has my glasses.
“Sila had them,” Lune says. I am redressed in short order, and swaying on my feet by the end of it. It’s only thanks to Lune’s earlier intervention that I haven’t already passed out. Though it’s a near thing.
At the last, Lune settles her cloak around my shoulders. I know it’s hers because it smells like her— an earthy, herbaceous scent with the underlying hint of alcohol used for distilling.
“Lune, you can’t—” I say, looking at her.
“So your tongue does work, then. And don’t tell me what to do, Lorel. I cangive my friend my cloak,” she says, fastening it with a determined set to her face. “I can hope it will keep her safe when she goes beyond where I can see her.”
I blink at her slowly. I had thought myself alone in the Library. I had sought to keep myself apart and be as unremarkable as I could be after leaving the Keep. I had certainly not set out to make friends. I had had none in the Keep.I did not think I had any right to expect to make any here. Each time Lune had patched me up, or cared for me, or had come by with tea to check up on me, I had figured she was only doing what was expected of her. I hadn’t thought she might actually care for me.
Elris might miss me because it was hard to lose half your team of scribes, and Sybri might miss the extra pair of hands that helped to lighten her workload, but Lune would miss me and my sad attempts at conversation and inability to be compliant.
“I’ll miss you too,” I mumble, embarrassed and feeling the tips of my ears warm further. I would miss her with her no-nonsense fussing and persistent optimism. I am wrapped suddenly in a tight, alarming hug, Lune’s cheek resting against mine.
“I still don’t know how I feel about your Librarian, but I’m glad you’re not going alone. It’ll be dangerous, but at least you’ll be beyond his reach,” Lune says quietly. Fiercely. “Now, let’s get you out of here.”
It’s late in the infirmary, the light is kept low. The sound of the night cough’s victims echo as Lune leads us out. I pause at the entrance to the infirmary, looking back at the bodies lying in their beds.
“Sila,” I whisper. She’s at my back, close and hovering because neither of us are sure I won’t pass out at some point.
“What is it?” she asks.
“How can he do that to his own people?” I ask. A note of pain that cracks through it. My blood pounds in my ears, the echoes of those coughs both real and memory. My parents, ailing. My father, one of the Dawn King’s own blood. Dead so that the Dawn King could have his willing human sacrifice.
“Power,” Sila says. “All the Dawn King cares about is power.”
I look down at my hands, feel the aches and the fever, and wonder what sort of person might ever be able to stop him. I think of my sister, her golden light so like his, still at his side. A treacherous cavern lake, waiting for a misstep. I have left Orielle behind, but perhaps she is exactly where she means to be.
“Will Orielle be alright?” I ask.
Lune finds me in the darkness, squeezing my hand gently. “She has allies here, she’s not alone,” Lune says. “Come.”
“Alright,” I say. I slip my hand from hers and turn away, stumbling as I go. It’s not as graceful as I had hoped. Sila catches me, because she always catches me.
“Careful,” she says. Some part of me knows I’m not making this journey out on my own two feet.
“On the fifth floor, near the fissure. That’s where he’ll be waiting for you,” Lune whispers. “Go with haste and be careful.”
We turn away from the passage that would lead us back to the Library and Scriptorium, and my heart aches as we walk the other way.
Lune watches us from the infirmary archway, a benevolent ghost in the dark. The ache in my chest doesn’t let up for a moment.
Sila wreaths us in her shadows and it muffles the sound of our boots on the stone. I’m slow, and I’m flagging, sorrow weighing heavy on my heart, fever burning bright, light spots appearing in my vision. I stumble and Sila catches me, again. I think I must have fallen as the world tumbles over itself and I find myself thrown over her shoulder.
