Chapter Forty-Nine · The Last Fragment

The High Lady and the midwife were imprisoned before the night ended.

After that, everyone returned to their chambers.

That night, Sion lay beside Lyra, staring up at the dark ceiling.

“I never thought my life would turn out like this,” she said.

Lyra smiled faintly.

“It’s better now. You’re the heir of Hemaliel.”

“But I don’t know anything.”

“You’ll learn.”

Lyra reached over and pinched Sion’s cheek.

“Stay here,” she said softly. “Don’t follow me anymore.”

Sion sat up at once.

“No. I still want to go with you. I’ll be lonely without you.”

Lyra sat up too and shook her head.

“You have a father now. Stay with him while you still can.”

She turned toward the window.

Beyond the glass, Hemaliel slept beneath its pale towers, jasmine scenting the air.

A small ache opened in her chest.

“If you lose him one day,” Lyra said, “you’ll wish you had stayed.”

The next morning, they said their farewells in the great hall.

Sion wore a new gown of soft pale green, with no torn sleeves and no fraying hem. Her hair had been brushed smooth and pinned with a small jeweled clip that caught the morning light.

She held Lyra’s hand tightly.

“Take care of yourself,” Sion said. “And you have to come find me again.”

Lyra nodded.

Then she placed the comb in Sion’s hands.

“Use it often,” she said. “I believe we’ll find a way to cure you completely one day.”

Sion held the comb close for a moment. Then she seemed to remember something. She slipped a small pouch from the crook of her arm and pressed it into Lyra’s hand.

“The magic dust we took from Gemariel,” she said. “You may need it someday.”

Lyra closed her fingers around the pouch.

The memories came back with it.

Beautiful ones.

Meaningful ones.

Her eyes stung, but she blinked the tears back.

“The horses are ready,” the High Lord said.

He and Haris entered through the outer doors. The High Lord’s gaze softened when it found Sion, then moved to Lyra.

“Thank you,” he said, “for bringing my daughter back to me.”

Lyra gave only a small smile.

Then Sion looked up, as if a thought had struck her.

“Father, do you know where the last map piece to the Awakening Spring is?”

The High Lord stilled.

“Why do you ask?”

Sion tipped her chin toward Lyra.

“She needs it to restore her magic.”

“I see.”

The High Lord looked at Lyra for a long moment. Then his expression settled.

“Then I will tell you, in return for what you have done for my house.”

Lyra frowned slightly.

“The Awakening Spring is here in Hemaliel?”

“No,” he said. “The Spring lies where three fae territories meet, where Hemaliel touches the realm of the divine.”

“Then where is the map fragment?” Haris asked.

The High Lord looked toward the high window.

“The Myrren Tree stands near that crossing. My father hid the fragment there.”

“The Myrren Tree?” Lyra asked.

“An ancient tree at the borderlands.” The High Lord paused. “Inside its trunk is a great mass of amber. It looks like an eye sealed in sap.”

Lyra felt her heart beat harder.

“If it still exists,” the High Lord said, “then the fragment is inside the amber.”

Lyra looked at Haris. For the first time in days, the path ahead did not feel impossible.

She had crossed three territories for three pieces already.

Only one remained.

One more piece, and her magic might finally awaken in full.

But the High Lord had not finished.

“I must warn you. Those who go there do not always return as they were.”

Lyra looked at him.

“What does that mean?”

“A few have entered the amber, but none would speak of what they saw inside. No one has ever returned with the fragment.”

Lyra’s hand tightened.

The Myrren Tree was not merely a place, but a thin seam between worlds.

The High Lord studied her.

“You still mean to go.”

It was not a question.

“Yes,” Lyra said.

The High Lord was silent for a moment. Then he nodded.

“A guide will take you to the northeast border. From there, the two of you must go on alone.”

“We understand,” Haris said.

Lyra turned to Sion and held her one last time.

For once, the tightness in her chest eased.

Sion had a home now. A father. A name that had been waiting for her long before Lyra ever knew it.

Lyra could not undo what had happened on the road.

But this much, at least, she had given back.

Then she and Haris mounted and rode out with a guard to lead them to the northeast border.

Only after they had vanished from sight did Sion turn to the High Lord.

“She is the princess, you know.”

The High Lord went still.

“Isn’t it a little late to tell me that?”

Sion shook her head and smiled, easy as ever.

“I have a lot to tell you, Father. But from now on, we need to be a strong ally for her.”