Morgana

“ I ’m fine, Leon,” I grumble as he spirits me through the corridors of the Lyceum. “Really.”

“You’re injured,” he growls, glaring down every inch of the hallway—scanning for danger, I guess.

“Yes, but I can still walk . Don’t get me wrong, these cuts hurt like a bitch, but I just need to see a healer, and I’ll be right as rain. They must have some here, right?”

“The healer can come to my room, where I know it’s safe,” he says.

A day ago, him bringing up my safety would’ve pissed me off. But after the events of the last hour, I’m actually glad for the way he’s taking charge. I’m not too proud to admit I’m shaken up after the attack.

And even though it doesn’t make a bit of sense, it’s a relief to have him here. I still don’t trust Leon, but I feel safe with him.

Which is stupid, because I know it doesn’t matter whether I believe him when he says he’s doing things for my own good— or think he really believes that.

It doesn’t make what he’s done okay. But part of me—my gut, not my mind—wants to just relax into his arms now, finding the solid warmth of them a balm against the ache and sting of my cuts.

And that allows me to voice what I’ve been afraid to consider until now.

“Do you think my aunt sent that fae after me?” I ask quietly.

“I don’t know,” Leon says. “It’s possible.”

At first, I’m surprised by his honesty, then I feel a pulse of gratitude that he’s given me a straight answer.

If nothing else, Leon has always been frank with me about the level of danger I’m in.

He won’t coddle me by pretending everything’s okay.

Maybe he keeps other things from me, but at least he’s willing to be open about discussing the challenges I face.

“She’s used agents of the Temple to target me before.”

“True, but this is different. The Lyceum is one of Filusia’s most sacred institutions. I wouldn’t expect a Trovian ruler to have this kind of reach.”

He must sense my worry when I don’t answer because he glances down at me.

“We will get to the bottom of this, Morgana.”

His thumb brushes against my elbow, and I suppress a shiver.

I’ve been avoiding being close to him like this for good reason.

It’s partly why I got so mad during our training the other day.

I could feel him testing my boundaries, trying to tease a physical reaction out of me—and I knew it would work.

My body remembers all too well how good Leon can make me feel, even as my heart remembers exactly how bad he can make me feel too.

Still, I don’t argue when he takes me to his room and lowers me onto the bed before sending for a healer. As we wait, Leon doesn’t try to make conversation, but he watches me so intensely I feel self-conscious under his gaze. It’s like he thinks I’m going to disappear right in front of him.

“Why did you ask Damia if she recognized that fae?” I ask when I’m unable to bear the weight of his stare on my skin any longer.

“Damia’s family are Morelium. She was raised in their community, but she’s been estranged from them for years.”

“I see. And that’s why she ended up in your unit? Alastor said something once about how other people in the army didn’t want her fighting with them because of her family.”

“Damia is in my unit because she’s one of the best soldiers I know.

But yes, her name earned her a certain amount of prejudice.

The Rhymises are a strong, noble family, but they keep to themselves, and their extreme views make them hostile to outsiders.

It means they are not well-liked among the nobility. ”

“But she can’t help who her family are,” I say more forcefully than I mean to.

Maybe I’m so outraged on Damia’s behalf because I can relate.

I wouldn’t just be ostracized if the Trovian people knew I was a solari.

I’d be sentenced to death. Which then makes me think about how Bearer Sophos knows about my celestial powers…

and that he made it out of Otscold alive.

The whole country probably knows what I am by now.

“The irony is, the whole reason Damia’s family disowned her was because she enlisted,” Leon says.

“The Morelium are anti-army?” I ask.

“They were against the war. It pit Filusia directly against their fellow Ethirans. They wanted Herrydan on the throne as much as the Temple did. I think that’s why Damia did it. Leaving wasn’t easy for her, and she needed to shut that door for good. It set her free.”

I nod, my image of the cold, intimidating Damia shifting a little. I can relate to doing drastic things for freedom.

The healer arrives, but they’re fae rather than dryad, and I can tell Leon is disappointed when all they can offer me is a balm and bandages for my cuts.

“All this magic and you’d think they could get someone with actual viatic power,” he growls as he sends the healer away with their tail between their legs. “These mages—they think they know better than everyone sometimes.”

He untwists the jar the healer brought and dips his finger into the balm. Then gently—more gently than I’ve ever seen him do anything—he runs it across a cut on my neck.

I inhale at his touch, intensely aware of his skin against mine.

“Sorry, did that sting?” he asks.

“Just let me do it,” I say, taking the jar from him. “In fact, I can go back to my room now. And if it’ll keep you from throwing a fit, you can check it for intruders first, then personally stand guard outside the door, if that will satisfy you.”

“It will,” he says, then pauses. “But there’s something I have to tell you first.”

My stomach clenches. Leon always has something to ambush me with—some new revelation or piece of news I’m not going to like. It’s no wonder my first reaction to his words is nerves.

“If it’s going to piss me off, I’d rather wait,” I say. “I’ve been knocked around enough for one day.”

“It’s about why you’re here.”

I stare at him. For days now, I’ve suspected there’s something else going on, but looking for answers on my own nearly got me killed. Now Leon’s just going to come out and tell me? I want to laugh at the ridiculousness of it.

“Funny, because I seem to remember you telling me I was here so I could get better at protecting myself,” I say, setting the jar of balm down loudly on the bedside cabinet. “Something about it being for my own good?”

He searches my face as if trying to judge how much danger he’s in. Good, let him be worried.

“That’s true, An—” He stops himself with a cough.

I know he was going to use the name I forbade him from ever calling me again, and he stopped himself just in time.

But it reveals that he’s still using it in his head.

I guess it’s silly for it to annoy me so much, but it does.

I don’t even get control over my own name.

“It’s true, Morgana,” he tries again. “I do want you to get better at protecting yourself. But you’ve probably realized there are other reasons why we’re here.”

I want to yell at him for holding this back from me. I want to demand to know why I only “deserve” to know this answer now. But even more than that, I want to know the answer, so I bite my tongue and listen.

“Perhaps I should have found a way to tell you earlier, but frankly I didn’t know if it would make a difference. You were so set on going to find your friend, and I…had my own obstacles.”

I manage to stay silent, not wanting to kill this moment of honesty before it has really begun.

“I’ll need to start two years ago for you to really understand,” he says, rising to pace across the room. “That was when we had a rare celestial event in Filusia. A starfall—you’ve heard of them?”

I nod, though such events are rare and I’ve only ever read about them: hundreds of stars all crossing the sky at once.

“This time, a piece of celestial stone actually fell to earth.”

I gape at him. “A star fell in Filusia? Like in the old stories about Agathyre?”

The Miravow is the result of a huge starfall thousands of years ago. The fallen stars that landed there were the seed that gave root to the vast enchanted forest which protects the dryad nation. They even named their capital after it.

“Yes, at least part of a star. At first, we believed the nation had been blessed.”

His face darkens at the memory. “However, it turns out that not all gifts from the gods are so benign.” He turns away from me, looking out the window.

“My grandfather wanted to make sure the star stone was protected, so he sent my brother Fairon to the fall site. Fairon’s sensic power is distraction.

He can repel people from a place using his magic, so he was the perfect choice to make sure the stone was claimed first and foremost by the royal family. ”

I can already hear it, the pain in his voice when he mentions his brother. My hands tighten in the sheets beneath me, bracing for what comes next.

“It turned out that the stone was very powerful—and very dangerous. The celestial magic that infected it wasn’t like any we’d seen before. It was dark and all-consuming. It struck Fairon down with an illness we haven’t been able to cure.”

I swallow. “Is he…?”

“He’s still alive, but only just. My grandfather destroyed the stone, and we’ve placed Fairon in a sanctuary protected by old, powerful magic linked to the royal bloodline.

Staying there has kept him grasping onto life.

But this infection is still slowly smothering the spark of life inside him, and I fear it won’t be long before it’s snuffed out entirely. ”

He turns to meet my gaze as understanding dawns on me.

“The spark of life…you mean the celestial flame Gallis has been talking about?”

He nods. “Yes, the light that the gods have imbued into every living thing.”

“And you think I could help Fairon,” I say. It’s not a question. Leon lied and tricked and betrayed me because he was trying to protect someone else entirely—his brother.

“So you never had any intention of letting me go in Trova,” I say, the realization bitter.