[ Asterion ] Book One, Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-One

The room was dark. Alexandria lit a handful of candles, giving just enough light to navigate the room by. Finley stared at the door to her chamber but could not force herself to step towards it, much less through.

She watched Alexandria from the centre of the room as she reached for her medication, taking it without a second thought. Alexandria rolled back her shoulders, sighing gently to herself.

“Thank your god for me that it’s all over, won’t you,” Alexandria said. “I began to fear the evening would never end and we would be dancing till sunrise.”

“You seemed to have a good time,” Finley said.

Her voice came out louder than she’d intended.

Alexandria glanced her way. After a moment spent scrutinising Finley, she chose not to comment on it.

“I do not believe I could ever truly love an evening spent in a ballroom, but I had a surprisingly tolerable time, yes,” Alexandria said. “Did you enjoy dancing with Kiln?”

Forcing herself to move, Finley unlatched the balcony doors and breathed down the cool night air.

“I didn’t step on her toes, if that’s what you’re asking.”

The words came without her bidding, as close to acerbic as any she’d ever spoken. She bit her tongue but it was too late.

“Did somebody step on your toes?” Alexandria asked.

Finley stepped out onto the balcony. Above her, the sky was clear, the stars abundant. It promised fine weather to come, an easy first day of travel, but the morning felt as far off as the crescent moon high over the fjord.

Finley startled as Alexandria approached. When had her mood turned so foul? She should be in her chambers, making ready for bed, not scowling at Alexandria for reasons she did not yet dare comprehend.

She screwed her eyes shut. It was Alexandria before her, Alexandria who she knew so well, who trusted her. Alexandria had done nothing to wound her, save be a target for her to project on.

“It’s been a long night. That’s all,” Finley said, opening her eyes.

She leant against the balustrade, taking in all the Sinite night offered her. Moonlight rendered all equal; the fields and fjord alike were nothing but stark, unmoving darkness. Sine offered its secrets to Finley, whispering that she would not be there for long. This would all be behind her in mere hours and she would no longer be this version of herself with the opportunities laid out before her.

“Indeed it has,” Alexandria said in time, purely for the sake of having something to say. “The both of us ought to get to bed. It’s already nearing midnight.”

Finley hummed. She didn’t take her eyes off Sine, land and sky indistinguishable but for the stars.

“You’re beginning to concern me, Finley,” Alexandria said, stepping a little closer. “Did I do something to upset you?”

When first they met, Alexandria would not have dreamt of asking such a question. Not of Finley, not of anyone she was acquainted with. There was more confusion than frustration in Alexandria’s words.

Finley shook her head, turning to her. She didn’t want the princess to worry, not truly.

Alexandria had drawn closer than she’d expected. Finley blinked but did not turn away, accepting her as she would any dance partner. Though her hands were warm, she felt the slightest shiver from Alexandria as she placed them on her bare shoulders.

There were parts of herself that had laid dormant for years, parts she thought lost. Finley wanted so much to understand the flush of heat she felt sinking lower in her gut, the dance of her pulse in her throat.

Finley drew Alexandria in. The princess moved easily, as though she’d ever followed a command not of her own making in her life.

When Alexandria was close enough for Finley to feel her breath on her lips, she murmured, “Oh, Finley. This isn’t a good idea. I am a princess and you are my foil.”

Finley dropped her hands. She stepped back, hitting the railing. Without taking her eyes off Alexandria’s, she hoisted herself onto the balustrade.

“That’s it, is it? That’s what it all comes down to? I’m only a foil, a servant, so I’m not good enough for you?”

Outrage did not amplify her voice. It was barely a whisper, though the challenge was clear.

“Don’t be stupid. That isn’t what I intended—god, Finley. You’ll fall,” Alexandria said, concern drawing her close again.

Her hands hovered above Finley’s knees. She did not dare touch her, not until she showed signs of losing her balance and succumbing to the deep darkness below.

Finley placed a hand on Alexandria’s shoulder. For balance, only for balance.

“I would like to flatter myself into believing that you know me better than that by now,” Alexandria said, voice stern as her eyes darted between Finley’s eyes and lips. “I spoke not of our relative positions to belittle you, to discard you, but because of the inherent power difference between us. You are my foil, Finley, and you live and work in my palace.”

Finley tilted her head to the side. Surely that could not be all Alexandria objected to.

“No,” Finley said.

“No?”

Alexandria’s fingers rested gently on her knees.

“That might be true in Thisia, but it isn’t true here. I was invited to Sine by name and you came with me. We’re equal here,” Finley said, stopping only to swallow the lump in her throat. “No. I’m the guest of honour. Technically, I’m more important.”

“Is that so?” Alexandria said.

The wind picked up but Finley felt no cold breeze rush through her. Alexandria’s hands ghost up her thighs. She opened her knees, letting the princess stand between them.

“Mm,” Finley said.

“It works differently in Sine, does it? The rules here are so unusual that we will have no difficulty in leaving this behind us and returning to the status quo in Thisia, hm?”

Alexandria had a hand on Finley’s hip. Her face was so close that Finley barely dared to breathe, though she twisted her fingers in Alexandria’s hair, not letting her retreat.

“Alex,” Finley near-enough pleaded. “We’re leaving Sine tomorrow.”

Alexandria couldn’t stand to hear another word of it. Her arms slipped beneath Finley’s tailcoat, wrapping tight around her waist, and she pulled her flush against herself. Finley breathed shakily against her mouth, clinging to Alexandria, entirely unprepared for what she herself had initiated.

By some miracle, the hesitance was all in her mind. Her body did not falter for a moment.

Alexandria did not kiss her as though it was unexpected, or as if it was a mere spur of the moment decision. She kissed Finley as though she had spent a very, very long time contemplating how the kiss would go; she kissed without patience, all preamble wasted on words, not daring to let space form between them.

It had been a lifetime since Finley had kissed anyone, but the urgency within her, the desire uncovered all at once, guided her. It spoke of all she wanted, all she needed. Alexandria’s hair came loose around her fingers, pins falling onto the balcony, but the time for composure was past. Finley let out a soft whimper as Alexandria gently licked her way into her mouth, pulling Finley’s hips closer as the kiss deepened, and Finley could not comprehend any force in the universe powerful enough to part them.

Not until they both realised how precarious their position was.

Alexandria tugged Finley sharply to the ground, leaving Finley dizzy with the thought of the endless fall behind her.

Finley’s knees would not quite support her. She clung to Alexandria, needing her close, but the kiss broke just long enough for Finley to see her face, as flushed as her own. All restraint burnt away.

“Finley,” Alexandria murmured, teeth grazing Finley’s lower lip. “This isn’t safe or practical. Come to the bedroom.”

“Please,” Finley gasped, searching out the buttons at the back of Alexandria’s dress.

For all she’d said, Alexandria didn’t get far. Finley’s back hit a wall, inside the chamber if nothing else, and Alexandria kissed at her neck, unbuttoning her waistcoat with quick, deft movements. Finley felt Alexandria across every inch of her body, felt her where her hands and mouth did not roam, but not once did the sensation become vague, blurred.

Breaths short and shallow, Finley felt each button worked open as though they were a part of herself. It was impossible that she could feel Alexandria’s hair brush the line of her jaw, her teeth scrape across her pulse point, her hands smooth across her shoulders as she pushed the tailcoat off, her hips press close to hers, but she could not escape a single, blazing sensation.

She didn’t want to.

Every touch, every kiss, was distinct. Every part of her body found some new way to react.

“It really is a terrible shame,” Alexandria said into her ear, relieving Finley of her waistcoat and tugging her shirt free of her breeches. “You truly did look unnecessarily handsome in this.”

All Finley could do was arch her body, desperate to aid Alexandria in stripping her clothes away. The bed was in sight, a blur over Alexandria’s shoulder, yet still Alexandria pinned her to the wall, knee pressed between her legs to keep her upright.

“Alex—” Finley gasped, all too aware of Alexandria’s thigh and the way she moved against it. Alexandria hummed, mouth on the line of her jaw, more interested in divesting Finley of her shirt than anything she had to say. “Alex, listen, please—”

Alexandria looked up, hand splayed across Finley’s stomach. Finley felt the outline of each finger through the thin cotton of her shirt, heat intolerable, searing.

She cupped Alexandria’s face. Alexandria raised a brow, challenging, and let her hand inch lower, fingers gathering up the hem of Finley’s shirt.

“You looked beautiful tonight. You always do,” Finley said, toes curling in her boots. “I wanted to tell you. I thought it was too obvious to need saying, but you looked – look – so beautiful, and I—I wanted to tell you.”

Alexandria’s breathing slowed. Her mouth curled at the corners.

She rid Finley of her shirt and fell to her knees.

Finley let out nothing short of a whine as Alexandria unlaced her breeches, fingers hooked over the waistband. She did not have time to marvel at how she had found herself in such a precarious position, half-naked with the Princess of Thisia knelt at her feet; she did not have a second to waste, could barely endure the necessary delay of Alexandria ridding her of her breeches, her stockings, everything.

Finley clasped Alexandria’s shoulders. There was no demand in it, no force; it was desperate, pleading, and she could not stand another second of waiting.

With a laugh that shot down Finley’s spine, Alexandria obliged. She eased Finley’s legs apart, humming low and guttural as she pressed her mouth to her. Finley had not understood the truth depths of her desire until then, until she felt how wet she was against Alexandria’s tongue, until her nails dug deep into her shoulders.

Alexandria’s movements were indulgent, exploratory, but Finley could not keep herself steady. The room spun. She slid against the wall, knees buckling. Alexandria held her hips tightly, taking one last moment to satiate herself, before rising to her feet.

“Alex,” Finley gasped, wrapping her arms around Alexandria’s shoulders.

“Shh, shh,” Alexandria said, mouth hot on Finley’s ear, chiding, amused, haughty. “I’ve got you, now. Good girl.”

Finley did not know how Alexandria got her to the bed, nor did she care. She sunk into the mattress, Alexandria straddling her hips, watching breathlessly as Alexandria rid herself of her dress, bundling it up and throwing it into some distant corner.

Alexandria pressed her forehead to Finley’s, kissing her once, long and deep, before easing herself back down between her legs. Alexandria delighted in her every gasp and let her own enjoyment known through the throaty moans Finley felt reverberate through her. Finley clung to her shoulders, twisted her fingers in Alexandria’s hair, and resigned herself to Alexandria’s mercy.

Finley had forgotten how much she loved this, how much she desired other women. She’d locked this facet of herself away, convinced that part of her life was over. It was impossible she’d gone so long without it; impossible that it had been mere days, not the years that had truly elapsed. How had she not dreamt of this night after night? How had she spent all those days alone with Alexandria without temptation overpowering her?

She didn’t want this to ever end. She wanted to touch Alexandria as she touched her, wanted to taste her. She wanted Alexandria inside of her, wanted to bury her face in Alexandria’s neck and cling to her as she came, wanted to—

She wanted, wanted, wanted. She was granted it all and more, need and want entwining in Alexandria’s own, finding contentment in each other’s open, honest desire.

When at last Finley slept, deep and dreamless as it was, it did not last long.

She awoke to the first hint of dawn. Next to her, Alexandria grumbled and rubbed her knuckles against her eyes.

Finley did not forget the night before for a fraction of a second. She did not wake and wonder why she wasn’t in her own bed. Her body coursed with a pleasant ache, a memory made manifest through her every nerve, and though she had not thought this far ahead, she surprised herself in not immediately darting from the room.

“God. It is a good thing I refused the service of a maid,” Alexandria said, voice thick with sleep.

Finley said nothing, eyes fixed on the door, bolted from within. She’d told Alexandria things would return to normal, but that had been an easy promise to make when all she cared about was what happened in the next ten seconds.

Alexandria wasn’t shy of her body, her nakedness. She let the covers pool around her waist as she stretched her arms over her head, yawning.

“Do you—” Finley’s voice caught in her throat. “Do you want some tea?”

Alexandria raised her brow.

“Do I want some tea?”

“Bitterwillow tea. Just in case you’re—I mean, I thought it might be helpful after—considering…”

Alexandria levered herself up on an elbow, aghast.

“My, Finley. You certainly think highly of yourself, don’t you?” Alexandria said. “But if you are offering, I won’t refuse. It might well wake me up.”

Finley nodded, only to realise she’d have to climb naked from the safety of the covers to find her clothes. It was far too late to be embarrassed. Sitting up, Finley swung a leg over the side of the bed.

“Before you do that…” Alexandria said, taking hold of Finley’s arm.

Finley glanced back. Alexandria did the last thing Finley expected her to: she pulled Finley close and kissed her, slow, gentle, warm. Finley looped her arms around Alexandria’s shoulders and kissed her back, tea forgotten.

Finley’s hands roamed across Alexandria’s body, confidence returning to her, putting them at terrible risk of doing more than just kiss.

“Loathe though I am to speak such a name under these circumstances,” Alexandria said, breaking the kiss and stroking Finley’s sides, “But Kiln will surely insist on bothering me before breakfast. We ought to dress. I’ll have to make that tea myself.”

Again, Finley’s eyes shot to the locked door. How tempting it was to ignore Alexandria’s warning and kiss away all her objections.

She only relented because she knew that if she kissed Alexandria again, neither of them would be able to stop. Sighing, she untangled herself from Alexandria, perched on the edge of her bed, and gathered up her clothing.

Finley turned to leave but did not make it more than a step across the room. Alexandria leant over her side of the bed, hair gathered over one shoulder as she searched out her clothes. Finley hadn’t seen her back last night, not clearly, but the pale light of dawn gave away too much.

Scars ran down Alexandria’s back, decorating either side of her spine. There were four on each side, evenly spaced and perfectly mirrored, with another pressed to the sides of her ribcage. The white scars were stark against her brown skin, each holding the shape of a star seen through tired eyes.

Finley had seen scars like that before.

Her hand rose unbidden, brushing over the scars, thick and textured.

“Hm?” Alexandria asked, glancing over her shoulder.

“Are these—” Finley asked, frowning. “Are these scars from when you were young? Are they what cause the pain?”

Alexandria tilted her head in a futile effort to see what Finley saw.

“Those? Indeed. The pain resonates from them. Some sort of… birthmark, birth defect, I’m told,” Alexandria said, dress gathered in her lap.

“Alex,” Finley murmured, pressing her palm flat against them.

She rocked forward on her knees, pressing closer.

“Really now, Finley. Stop attempting to distract me. The both of us need to be dressed before Kiln arrives, or at the very least naked in separate rooms. Go. Shoo,” Alexandria said, rolling her shoulder back.

Not knowing what to say, what to do, Finley got to her feet. She bundled her clothes against her chest and headed to her chamber, sparing one last glance at Alexandria.

She’d seen those scars before.

Finley brushed the tangles out of her hair, found a high-collared shirt to wear, and wanted very badly to wash. Through the door came a murmur of conversation. She could not decide what looked more suspicious: hiding in her chamber until she was called for breakfast or marching straight into Alexandria’s room, as though the latter wasn’t something she’d done each and every day.

Finley left it a few agonising minutes. She entered the chamber with a light knock on the door and found Amarata on the settee, discussing the day’s arrangements. Like the journey there, Finley couldn’t fathom how much work had been put into getting them safely to Sunspire.

Alexandria, now dressed, had thrown the balcony doors open. She didn’t have to do much more than catch Finley’s eye to send a little stab of warm, enticing discomfort down her spine.

“Good morning, Finley,” Amarata said. “Are your things packed? They’ll be taken to the carriages while we’re at breakfast.”

Finley managed a nod.

“What’s the matter with you, Finley?” Alexandria asked. “Why do you have such a face on? Don’t tell me you didn’t get enough sleep.”

Finley sincerely wished she could tell the princess to shut her mouth without rousing suspicion. Shaking her head, she made for the bathroom and washed as best as she could.

The three of them headed to breakfast without much more preamble. Between Alexandria and Amarata, walking with Alexandria felt safer. She couldn’t bring herself to meet Amarata’s eye, not yet. She prayed food would strengthen her resolve and bring her back to herself, else the next few weeks were going to be unduly awkward.

It was almost as though it was impossible for things to return to the way they’d been.

“Good morning, Princess. Finley, Sir Kiln,” Prince Iyden said as they entered the small, private dining room set aside for them. “I’m afraid my father isn’t here yet, but I’m sure he won’t keep you long.”

“It’s good of His Majesty to entertain us so, and I’m fairly certain we’re somewhat early,” Alexandria said, taking her seat.

Finley faltered in the doorway.

Alexandria sat opposite Princess Rada. All at once, Finley felt sick to her stomach. Princess Rada smiled warmly, rising from her seat to greet Alexandria, certain that after spending hours dancing with her, Alexandria had returned to her chambers and slept soundly.

Finley couldn’t look at her.

Alexandria and the princess weren’t betrothed, were not officially courting for all Finley knew, but the expectation was there. They’d made their intentions clear to one another and had the king’s explicit consent. It was not merely a matter of marriage. The future of Sine rested on their union and Finley had put that all in danger, simply because she thought she knew what Alexandria wanted. What she deserved.

Not her, certainly not her, Finley wouldn’t be that presumptuous, but she’d convinced herself she was offering Alexandria a choice. All she’d really done was sate her own selfish desire.

Amarata had invited Finley to her chamber, had offered that nightcap. Amarata was beautiful, kind. Finley trusted her. It would’ve been easier, would’ve come without consequences and barely any strings attached, and she wouldn’t have to feel that she’d—what? Deceived Princess Rada? Betrayed her?

Finley stared at her plate. She wouldn’t be able to take a single bite, not even when the king arrived and everyone started eating.

Princess Rada might not know why, but surely Amarata would be able to guess.

“Finley?” Alexandria said, tearing her from her thoughts. “Finley, are you listening? Goodness. How much did you drink last night? Did you not hear what Princess Rada said?”

“Sorry?” Finley blurted out, looking up.

Smiling, Princess Rada said, “That’s alright, Finley. You’ve a lot on your mind with the journey ahead, I’m sure. I was telling Princess Alexandria of a barn owl nest I stumbled across in one of our storehouses. The babies are such funny looking creatures. Princess Alexandria told me you have a soft-spot for birds of the sort.”

The amulet of Deimos pressed to Finley’s chest. She’d picked it up off Alexandria’s floor this morning, discarded as though it was a mere sock, labyrinth key hanging at its side.

“I do,” Finley made herself say.

“Don’t mind her. She gets travelsick, you see, and is dreading our journey back to Sunspire,” Alexandria said.

Finley did not know why Alexandria insisted on lying for her. This was all so easy for Alexandria. She spoke cheerfully to Princess Rada, flirting, even, and did not once show the faintest sign of guilt.

The king wheeled himself into the room. All rose to greet him.

“I apologise for my tardiness,” he said gravely. “I do wish you’d started eating without me. I’m afraid something rather unusual has come to light.”

The king frowned. The expression settled on his face, deep and irrevocable. It did not suit him.

“Did something happen, father?” Princess Rada asked.

The king nodded, lost himself in thought, and turned to Alexandria.

“I hate to interrupt your plans, Princess, but do you think your people might spend another night in Waterdeep? I understand that Queen Briar has you on a rather strict schedule, but I expect you will want to see this.”

Pushing her chair in, ready to depart, Alexandria said, “Another day is nothing, Your Majesty. We can make it up on the journey back with this fine weather. What as you rattled so?”

King Lucian had held his throne for decades. He had dealt with two Thisian monarchs and kept his people fed despite Thisia’s demands, but whatever promised to delay them was beyond his comprehension.

He opened his mouth. The words did not come.

“I think it would be better to show you. The workers have discovered something in the mines,” he said, at last.

Breakfast forgotten, they were packed into carriages and sent though Waterdeep. Finley doubted anyone had not thought to the Labyrinthine Beast, the source of Sunspire’s crystals surely reflected in Sine, yet only her, Amarata, and Rydal had seen the Beast’s true face.

They saw it now, sitting across from them.

Even Princess Rada had little to say. She drummed her fingers against the open window, as silent as Rydal sat at her side.

Finley chewed the inside of her lip. There were too many people crowded into the carriage to comfortably ask Alexandria or Amarata what they made of the situation, and she still had room for the ridiculous fear that her stomach was going to rumble.

She should’ve grabbed a bread roll before leaving the castle.

The first time they’d visited the mines, the majority of the workers had been given the day off. Now almost a hundred people gathered outside, all wearing the same wary, confused expression. Finley stuck close to Alexandria’s side, more fearful than ever of crystals, and already knew this would not be something Alexandria could observe from a distance.

“I can take you to the mouth of the cavern where you observed the crystals from last time, but you won’t be able to see it, I’m afraid,” King Lucian said as they made their way into the mineshaft. “It was discovered a level below that; a cavern within a cavern, as it were. If you’re comfortable going further into the mine, Princess, I have a handful of foils awaiting us. They’ve been trying to work with the—well. You’ll see.”

“It will be fine. I’ve Finley at my side,” Alexandria said.

Finley knew better than to argue with her.

At their father’s bidding, Princess Rada and Prince Iyden remained outside the mineshaft, assured they could see the discovery at a later time. Finley’s heart pounded. The king didn’t want to risk both his heirs going into the cavern with him.

Finley thought of Sparrow. She thought of that formless darkness wearing someone else’s face as though it had always been her own; she thought of the claws sunk deep into Rydal’s shoulders and felt the rise of Alexandria’s star-shaped scars beneath her fingers.

She’d promised Sparrow she’d visit her again. She gripped the key through her shirt, praying she hadn’t left it too late. Sparrow was older than the stars. Surely Finley could let years elapse before visiting her again and Sparrow would hardly feel the time pass.

The pulley lift shuddered its way down. King Lucian had gone first, Rydal at his side to help with his wheelchair, and Amarata pressed almost as close to Alexandria’s side as Finley did. Finley wanted to tell Alexandria that it was safe, that the lift was used to taking far greater weights, but knew it would be for naught; Alexandria wasn’t afraid.

She looked ahead, ready to face whatever horrors the Sinite mines held.

A group of foils met them in the cavern. Finley told herself that their powers worked exactly as hers did, that any crystal would fall empty and powerless around them, but could not trust anyone but herself to keep Alexandria safe.

“It’s down here,” King Lucian said, gesturing to a large opening the far wall of the cavern.

It hadn’t been there a few days ago. Rock and crystal had taken its place.

The ground was especially uneven, the ceilings low. Rydal gripped the back of King Lucian’s wheelchair, shifting it over the unlevel ground.

As they walked through the low, narrow path, more crack in the earth than corridor, Alexandria spared her a glance, a silent Well, Finley. They’d discussed this before. If Thisia’s crystals were formed by proximity to the Beast, what were Sine’s crystals feeding off?

Finley could not believe there was another such creature under the earth. Surely they did not live in the dark tunnels beneath the surface, feeding on nothing and creating crystals of such beauty. Rydal claimed Sparrow was not of this world, that she had fallen from between the stars; how could such a thing happen once, much less twice?

A cavern opened before them.

It was immense, as large as last night’s ballroom, only high and domed. It was studded with a swirling galaxy of crystals, all shining down at the heart of the cavern.

There was no Beast, no shifting shadows.

“Is this what all fuss was about?” Alexandria said. “I do not mean to sound ungrateful, Your Majesty, but I expected something somewhat more lively.”

The conversation became a mumble in Finley’s ears.

The first crystal Finley remembered seeing, the first understanding she had of what a crystal was, had stood in the orphanage dormitory. It was placed at the end of the long room, standing upon a plinth by the door.

It was mesmerising. The light within swirled and pulsed, but none of the other children paid it any real heed. Finley watched it from her bunk of a night, amber light aglow in a room full of dreamers, but found it harder to admire during the day.

It was to only the sunlight driving its brilliance out. Often, the crystal fell dark, having ran out of energy. One morning, while the other children were already seated for breakfast and Finley was searching for her right shoe, she noticed the crystal shining brightly.

With no one else around, she approached it slowly, hands held behind her back. She’d almost reached it when the light faded, crystal burnt out for the day, waiting to rejuvenate with the night. She returned to her search. The crystal’s light reappeared as brightly as before and Finley approached it again.

Darkness.

She took wide steps backwards.

Light.

Towards the crystal.

Darkness.

Frowning, she placed her hands on the crystal. She’d watched two of the carers struggle to lift it onto that plinth months ago, yet she almost knocked it clean to the ground. It weighed next to nothing and felt hollow as she held it up, squinting through its facets.

Footsteps echoed in the corridor. Finley put the crystal back, not wanting to get in trouble, and hurried to grab the shoe that’d been hiding in plain sight all along.

Light returned to the crystal.

It’d been her doing all along.

Finley didn’t make it to breakfast. She kept her eyes on the crystal, stepping back and forth, back and forth, watching the light flash. Realisation dawned; crystals didn’t flicker out around other people, not as they did her.

She almost, almost, had the pieces lined up, ready to slot together, but her head hurt. One of the carers, Nimue, appeared, worry vanishing the moment she laid eyes on Finley and knelt before her. She stroked Finley’s hair, asking her what was wrong, why she wasn’t at breakfast. Finley burst into tears, because it was her fault the crystals didn’t work, wasn’t it?

Nimue did what she could to reassure Finley that she had a great power, albeit an unusual one, and that there must be a reason for it. One day, she’d understand why she wasn’t like other children. Nimue called her a foil, a word Finley had heard time and time again, never realising that it was meant for her.

All at once she understood what her parents meant when they said they’d tried their best, that they’d lasted five long years, but they couldn’t keep going, not like that. Even at five years old, Finley recognised the feeling of her mind and heart racing beyond her years.

Finley thought of that crystal, deep in the mines of Sine. She didn’t think of the twin crystals threading illusions across the palace grounds or the constant healing thrum of the crystal that once stood in Alexandria’s chambers. Nor did she think of the enormous sentinel crystals encircling the labyrinth, keeping Sparrow from her freedom, her feast, stood upon pillars descending into the darkness.

Finley looked upon the crystal the king had brought her to and thought of the first crystal she had understood as it in turn understood her. She thought of the first crystal she placed her hands on, knowing she could throttle the magic out of it.

As a child, it had appeared as unfathomably large as the one that rose above her, bursting from the hard ground like a weed.

It was bigger than any crystal she’d yet seen or imagined. It was twice as tall as anyone she’d ever met and almost as wide as the carriage they’d travelled in.

A crystal of that size would be the jewel of any kingdom, the frozen heart of what would become the world’s most powerful nation. There was not a witch alive with magic enough to fill every facet of the crystal. It could’ve been shattered into a thousand pieces and each would be powerful enough to protect Sine’s borders for an age.

But the sheer scale of the crystal was not what King Lucian had brought them to see.

Rydal took a step forward but dared move no more.

Their lips parted in a silent prayer.

Within the crystal, unmistakable through the natural formation of its smooth sides, was a skeleton. Whole, intact. The bones of an enormous cat were trapped mid-step, its jaw open, canines long and curved. It lifted a paw, back arched, tail low.

From its back, two mighty, featherless wings spread.

Alexandria wasn’t disappointed by what she saw. Finley knew she only spoke thus to make sense of what stood before her. Alexandria stared at the crystal with the same awe they all did, her brown eyes amber with the steady, benevolent glow of the first crystal that did not darken in Finley’s presence. 

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