"If ever something was lost...Zuri Ayim was the one who could recover it."
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Twelve years ago, a meteorite fell among the seven city-states of Kiro, and birthed a new legend. They are calle...
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"I'm telling you, Zuri. I don't think this is a good idea."
Zuri glimpsed Sorin over her shoulder, the distress on his face so obvious she almost wanted to laugh. "I'm well aware of what you're telling me, Sorin; I'm just not listening to you."
His mouth opened in a small, betrayed O. At that, Zuri did laugh.
The street around them was bustling, and Zuri was alive with it. She'd never thought she'd be so happy to be hassled by street vendors and beggars again, never thought she'd find so much joy in the dangerous art of evading the rattling trolleys that criss-crossed through the main square in every which way. She was home. After everything, she was home, and in her pocket she at last held the key to her father's future.
Of course, there was also something she had to ask him. But she couldn't bear to let her mind wander there quite yet.
"Zuri," Sorin said from behind her, his voice tremulous. "Zuri, you said you were running an errand, not—"
She whirled, stomping back over to him, grabbing him by the wrist.
He frowned. "What are you doing?"
"Mr. Kircher," she said, dragging him off the pebbled footpath, into the shadows beneath the bright red awning of a corner bakery. The scents of warm bread and cinnamon sugar suffused the lively air around them. "May I have a moment?"
He blinked, but then his mouth quirked in amusement. He interlaced their fingers. "You may have all my moments, Miss Ayim."
"Good," she said, and lifted one hand, brushing hair from his face. He flinched, his body tense for a moment, before he relaxed beneath her touch. "You will be fine, Sorin. There's nothing to be afraid of; he'll adore you. Matter of fact, I've never introduced him to anyone like this before—you're the first. So you're extra special."
Sorin grimaced. "No pressure."
Zuri laughed, but it was short-lived. She lowered her hand, curving it around his shoulder, down his chest, letting her fingers flutter over the bandaged wound where Vernon's knife had entered. Sorin's breath hitched, and she drew her hand back.
"You have been through so much worse than this, you know," she said, her voice almost a whisper. "You will survive this, too."
He hesitated, then smiled at her—a subtle upturn to one side of his mouth, which was as close as he tended to get to a smile, as far as Zuri knew. She loved the way he looked when he was happy, when for that moment, whatever it was, he had let go. And yet she still wished she could go back, could find the rest of Sorin's smile and keep it from ever being stolen.
A moment later, the smile was gone. "Zuri."
"What?"
"You're looking at me weird," he said, and when that only made her look at him weirder, he amended: "Like there's something else you want to say. What is it?"
