Page 19 of Daughter of No Worlds

New word. But I could gather what it meant.

I moved my arms, bracing my hands to push myself upright. I expected the movement to be met with a wall of pain, but it wasn’t. Soreness, yes — but nothing compared to what I had endured for the last few weeks.

Incredible.

“I’m sure that still hurts.” I looked up to see Willa staring at me with a wrinkle between her eyebrows.

“Not bad,” I replied. “Thank you.”

She made a small, sucking sound with her teeth, something caught between sadness and disapproval. “You poor thing. Your back was awful.”

A slight, cold breeze drew my gaze to the right side of the room, which was essentially a wall of glass windows, floor to ceiling, selectively covered with layers of dusty-blue chiffon curtains. One window was cracked open slightly, allowing the sea air to slip in.

The room was small, but impeccably clean. The only furniture was my bed, a large mirror, and an armoire. All of them were simple in construction but clearly expensive, crafted of deep mahoghany with silver hardware. That hardware, in fact, was the only decoration. Each piece — every knob or pull — was a little silver moon.

Another breeze. I shivered, clamping my arms around myself. It was only then that I realized, to my embarrassment, that I was shirtless.

My sheepishness must have shown on my face. “Don’t worry. Naked bodies are nothing new to me,” Willa said. “But I do have some clothes for you. I assume that you don’t wantthatanymore.”

She gestured to the armoire, where my jacket hung from a hook on one side. My tattered, dirty,bloodyjacket. A jacket that could have only been worn by someone who was close to death. Someone who had seen and experienced terrible things, who had closed her eyes every night wondering if they would open again in the morning.

I shuddered.

No. I did not want it. I did not want to even look at it ever again.

But now, the sight of it reminded me with a tight pit at the base of my stomach why I had come here to begin with — made me wonder what Serel was going through right now. If I could speak to Zeryth, maybe he could help me rally the support of the Orders and go help him. I can’t imagine they would stand for this, and with their firepower—

“I need speaking to Zeryth Aldris,” I told Willa, who had opened the armoire and was rummaging around inside. She peeked out, holding a blue cotton dress. Her lips thinned.

“Oh yes,” she said, almost as if to herself. “They did say that, didn’t they…”

She hung the dress on the side of the armoire, covering my dirty jacket. “Here. Not the most stylish but, let’s keep it loose for now so we don’t irritate your wounds.”

I only understood roughly half of that sentence, but I was too impatient to care. “Is Zeryth—”

“Yes, yes. While you get dressed, I’ll go get someone who would like to speak to you.”

Willa went to the door, her skirt floating around her feet. Even though she was short and relatively squat, she moved with a grace that I watched with faint envy. My dancing had been crafted out of practice and sheer force of will. Willa’s movements were all natural poise.

“Willa,” I said, as her hand touched the door handle. She paused to look at me. “Thank you.”

She gave me a little, warm smile. “You are very welcome, my dear. I’m sure I will see you again soon.”

And then she floated out the door, leaving me alone in the tower of the Order of Midnight — a place I had dreamed about for years.

I still didn’t quite know how. But I had made it.

* * *

I slipped outof bed and wandered a circle around the room, taking a moment to peer out the window between those light, flowing curtains. When I looked down, the floor seemed to tilt beneath me, and my throat released an involuntary gasp. I was probably hundreds and hundreds of dizzying feet above the ground. Only glass separated me from the sky.

My window overlooked the famous Aran cliffs, and the thrashing sea beyond them. If I tilted my head and pressed my cheek against the glass, I could barely see the Tower of Daybreak — headquarters to the Order of Daybreak — standing beside this one. It was identical to this tower, except its glass was lined with burnished gold instead of silver. Fitting.

Beyond it, perhaps a mile away, the Palace loomed against the cliffs. It wasn’t nearly as tall as the Towers, but it sprawled against the curvature of the earth. The gold that lined its every angle glittered beneath stormy, sea-tinted clouds. Peaks accented with violent spires stabbed the sky.

A lump formed in my throat.

The ink drawings in my books and Zeryth’s descriptions did not do any of it justice.

---