Lux [h.s]

twenty-seven

They broke apart and Harry glanced down, a faint pink hue colouring his cheeks.

"We should—"

Cora couldn't move. There was warmth spreading through her, drying the droplets on her cold skin like a welcoming fire, a wave of feelings she couldn't untangle nor explain. "Yes," she breathed out, all too aware of their position—of her situation, her skin bare under Harry's midnight blue coat.

Harry's shirt was sticking to his skin; the button that should've kept his collar closed was wide open, broken apart by the scuffle in the lake, revealing the line of his collarbones. The water dripping from his hair down to his neck glinted in the pale sun like diamonds. His eyes were hidden by his golden eyelashes, that were just starting to dry. He reminded her of one of those paintings she'd seen at Count Watillon's house, in the overcrowded parlour—a fairy prince bathing in the icy waters of a greenwood stream, so bright they could've been made of argent, glancing at the viewer with such a sharp glint in his eyes he'd seemed ready to reach out of the canvas and spirit them away to his idyllic homeland.

Harry was looking at her now, but she couldn't glance away. Her heart was beating so fast, so fast, and her face felt so hot, and his coat was so soft, and it took Cora way too long to realise she wasn't breathing. After a longer moment, she also realised she was still naked, and she couldn't tell if Harry had forgotten it as well or if he was all to aware of it.

Harry cleared his throat and stood up, staring at the lake. "It doesn't look like it'll get out." A small sentence, saying a single, easy thing not to say a thousand more.

The moment shattered, and Cora pulled the coat tighter around her shoulders. She didn't feel so warm anymore. "What was that?"

Harry's head snapped towards her. Her heart pounded.

"I meant..." She pointed at the water with a finger, as if to say, the creature, not the kiss. Not the kiss. Never the kiss.

Harry visibly relaxed. Or maybe it was just a trick of the light, and she was building houses on foundations of sand again. "It was a water daemon. I believe you call them lake gods in Beilyn. They're no deities."

"A monster?"

"Something like that," Harry murmured, sitting back on the ground. "A concentration of dark energy. They usually dwell in the depths of the lake. It must've sensed magic and come up. They're extremely sensitive to energy manipulation."

Cora looked away. She felt guilty. It was her fault. Again.

He blinked away a stray droplet that had fallen from his curls. The water made their colour darker, like tar. "Do you know anything about that?"

"No, I don't." The lie was out of her mouth before she could figure out why she was lying to him. "Are there many of those around?"

"Their numbers have increased in the last decade. Energy has become unstable, and it favours their creation."

"Unstable?"

He sighed. "Dangerous things happen when the balance is altered. Energy escapes and it takes many forms. I'm surprised the Order of Noctis wasn't activated yet."

Cora frowned. "What's the Order of Noctis?"

"One of the two orders instituted by the Ancient Religion," he explained. "It was never quite a religion, for us, but a method to ensure the stability of energy. The Order of Noctis destroys every source of instability. They work in the darkness and will stop at nothing. The Order of Diei covers it all up and deals with the official matters."

A chilly draft blew from the other end of the clearing, making the mirror-still surface of the lake break out in tiny waves against the lakeside. Its water felt foreign to Cora, now, and a shiver ran down her spine. "Are they dangerous?"