Page 81 of The Divine Shallows
Lyra responded with a symphony of laughter and a warm embrace. The two of them made their way toward the courtyard, where the two young princes were engaged in conversation with fey from various kingdoms. Lox noticed Elowyn’s approach first and waved to her in greeting.
“Elowyn!” Lox greeted her with open arms and a smile that stretched from ear to ear. “It feels like ages since we last spoke! Seems like the only time I catch sight of you is when you’re soaring through the skies on your father’s massive firedrake. Speaking of which, how’s the fiery beast?”
Elowyn bristled at the comment. “That’s hardly a respectful way to refer to the king of Eriden.”
Lox rolled his eyes in good-naturedly. “Oh, moons. You haven’t changed a bit.”
“Oh, right. You meant Bane… Well, he’s broody and taciturn as always.” Elowyn chuckled at her own quip. Recalling the name of the winged ophis favored by Lox, she asked, “Aeras is doing well?”
“She’s still as fierce as the day I first met her.” He grinned, speaking of Queen Nyra’sanimuswith admiration.
Peeking over his brother’s shoulder, Llyr joined the conversation. “On the contrary, Liros remains the sweet-tempered and kind-hearted soaring serpent he’s always been.”
“You know what they say about sacredanimus; they’re drawn tothose who reflect their essence most similarly. In Liros’s case, it seems he’s drawn to Llyr’s gentle and meek spirit,” Lox joked, giving his brother a playful pat on the back.
Llyr gave his brother an unbothered glance and shrugged. “Well, brother, there’s nothing wrong with being reserved and refined. You should give it a try sometime. Anyway, it’s good to see you again, Elowyn. It feels like it’s been ages since you last visited Erimead. We never did get the chance to race each other around the mountains like we planned when we were feylings, did we?”
“I doubt I would’ve been able to ride Bane back then. If we had gone flying, I probably would’ve plummeted to my death, so I’m grateful we never tried,” Elowyn chuckled, deflecting the question in the hopes that Llyr wouldn’t pry further about her isolation from the other kingdoms. Fortunately, it seemed to work.
Llyr merely chuckled in response and redirected his attention to Lyra. “And who do we have the pleasure of meeting here?”
Before Elowyn could introduce Lyra, her friend spoke up for herself.
Lyra, as charming as ever, spoke in a voice as smooth as honey. “I’m Lyra Fenhart of House Bloodweaver,” she introduced herself, extending a poised hand toward the two princes.
Llyr arched an eyebrow unexpectedly, while Lox greeted her gesture with a wide grin. Taking her hand in his, Lox pressed his lips softly against her skin. “A pleasure to meet you, Lyra Fenhart of House Bloodweaver. By any chance, are you related to Sylas Fenhart?”
Lyra’s lips curved slightly at his charm. “As a matter of fact, he’s my brother.”
“Brilliant! Who knows, perhaps one day you’ll surprise the seven realms and reveal yourself as a legacy as well.”
Elowyn noticed a subtle change in Lyra’s demeanor after the comment, but she maintained her composed and self-assured demeanor. Her eyes sparkled as she said, “You flatter me, Prince Lox. I might just do that. I’m full ofsurprises, you know.”
Lox chuckled. “I look forward to you revealing your cards when the time comes.” He then motioned toward his brother. “As much as we’d love to continue this conversation, Llyr and I have a few other guests to greet before we head to the Temple for the Crossing of Kin.”
“We’ll catch up with you both there,” Llyr added with a wave before the princes disappeared into the crowd.
The fey in the courtyard began to disperse, with some already making their way to the Temple. The Seventh Day would commence once the moon fully ascended, and Elowyn still hadn’t seen or heard from Elyria since the Sixth Day. She pushed aside the unsettling feelings that bubbled to the surface and focused on something else.
Once the Blackbane twins were out of sight, Elowyn turned to Lyra and casually touched her arm. “Is everything all right? I don’t want to assume, but I sensed that something might be bothering you.”
Lyra appeared anxious for the first time that evening. “Oh, it’s nothing.”
Elowyn’s concern deepened, but she chose not to press further. “All right. Just know that I’m always here for you if you need me.”
Lyra adjusted her gown and cleared her throat nervously. “It’s something I usually avoid discussing, but with everything happening, I know I’ll have to confront it soon.”
“Only if you’re comfortable,” Elowyn said sincerely.
“Right. Here it goes...” Lyra glanced down at her clasped hands. “I adore my brother more than anything. I’ve admired him all my life. Sylas is truly remarkable, but it’s easy to feel overshadowed by him.” She began to shift on her feet. “Our parents were ecstatic when he was chosen as the Bloodweaver candidate for this season. As you know, being selected by the Moon Goddess and accomplishing divine greatness is the highest honor one can achieve.” Lyra straightened her dress skirts. “Sylas captured Caena’s attention, but I fear I never will.” She sighed heavily. “Moons, what am I even saying? The truth is, I know I never will.”
Lyra met Elowyn’s gaze with seriousness. “Sylas told me he’s felt the Goddess’ presence his entire life... He said he’s sensed her divine power countless times. It’s understandable, given that he’s a legacy. He was blessed with that gift from Isadora at birth.” Lyra glanced back at her feet. “He’ll be the next Fenhart in what seems like generations to become a divine warlock. But me? I’ve never felt the Goddess’ presence. I’ve never been acknowledged by the Iron Queen.”
The mention of Isadora Bloodweaver, the first queen of the Iron Hollows, triggered a memory of the Second Day when Elowyn was escorted through the Iron Kingdom’s wards and barriers. After she had rather impulsively punched Theo in the face for insulting her sister, Theo had mentioned at one point that Isadora had taken notice of her. Elowyn remembered the ivory ink crescent moons on her palms glowing in the dimly lit cave and the profound connection she felt to Neramyr. It had been an extraordinary sensation.
In truth, it felt otherworldly.
“My native magic is barely a trickle compared to Sylas’ torrent. Since the day I could harness magic, I have trained tirelessly, until my eyes grew heavy and my limbs weary. Yet, despite how hard I tried, I fell leagues behind Sylas. Each day served as a stark reminder that our abilities were no longer paces apart, but worlds apart. His selection as a divine candidate during the last Crossing of Kin was hardly unexpected,” Lyra confessed, her shoulders sagging. “I’m not destined to be chosen as a divine candidate, nor will I ever bear the final Mark.”
