Lux [h.s]

forty-eight

Cora spent the following morning in Harry's company in the garden.

He drew a circle of fay fire around her again and then sat on the grass, barely paying attention to her as she desperately tried to put out his stubborn flames.

She observed him through the fire for hours, watching him play with his magic. At one point he brought a dagger out of the house and trained, chasing his fireflies and other makeshift obstacles around the garden. There was a wilful elegance in his movements, that of a performer dancing with a blade, more than a man fighting for his life. Cora got so distracted following him with her gaze that she almost burnt her hand.

After a while he lay on the ground. His chest rose and fell quickly, but there was a serene look in his eyes. His mood had improved since they'd arrived at his house. After the Fair had burnt down, he'd locked out the world, forcing himself to only focus on the tasks at hand.

But it was different, now. Cora had never seen him use magic in such an electrifying, dreamy and continued way. Now he created his fireflies inside the building to illuminate a room, too, not fearing they may escape his hold and consume his surroundings. The air in the house smelled like magic—if it could be said that magic had a scent—and Cora could almost perceive its tingle behind every corner.

Lunchtime came around, and Harry freed her once again before disappearing inside the house.

When he wasn't in Cora's company, he rarely stayed where she could find him. His relationship with company was fickle, like a cat's; while he seemed to seek it out sometimes, others he preferred to hide away in corners of the house Cora was yet to find. She tried not to take it to heart—even before she joined the Fair and got to know him personally, he was renown for his avoidance. The owner of the Fair, a man made of magic and mystery. Though they were closer now, he seemed reluctant to fully abandon the shroud of secrets that enveloped him.

Cora had lunch with Dwyn and Emilia. Emilia was older than Cora was, though she didn't dare inquiring about her age. She was quiet, the kind of person that liked to observe and perceive instead of speaking changes into the world. The lunch wasn't awkward, though, because Dwyn, in turn, was very chatty. She told her about Raven—how he was always hiding in those stables of his and hardly came into the main house—and May—her ability was like Thalia's, but she wasn't nearly as powerful. She could only use it to find few information about the people she met personally, like their name, age or ability, if they had one.

After lunch Cora went to the library and cuddled up on the armchair in front of the popping fireplace.

When Harry came to find her, she was reading another book, trying to find the story she was so interested in reading to no avail. He leaned on the back of her chair and she jumped. She hadn't expected him to come around anytime soon.

"We're going to Evandra. Get ready."

Cora watched him leave the room with a frown. He hadn't waited for her reply—as if it was a given. The worst part was that he was right. The idea of visiting Evandra was too tempting to pass up. In the previous days, Dwyn had told her it was the heart of the socialite life of the Isle of Dar, located in the far south. Named after the first king of the Moonvall dynasty, it stood watch on the tallest cliffs of the island, out onto the sea. The grandiosity of the duke's manor could be compared to the Adhara Hall in Idais. And Cora was so terribly tired of being locked up in Harry's house. Once, she'd wished she could've returned to the safety of the hostel, where nothing ever happened. She wondered how she could've ever thought of the life she used to lead as appealing. Now, it only seemed oppressing.

She got up and went to her bedroom, leaving the book she was reading on the table as bait, to see if it would encounter the same fate of the other one—that was still missing.