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Osric’s heart skipped a beat, his hand still resting on her shoulder. “Anything.”
Hali took his hand in hers. “The grimoire. The one that caused us so much trouble.” She laughed, a shaky, beautiful sound. “I . . . I don’t need it anymore. I certainly don’t care to go through the trouble of selling it.” Her cute little nose crinkled. “And I think it belongs somewhere better. Somewhere it can do some good.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean I’m donating it. To the Starlight Sanctum. Illyria Moondrop’s shop.” She glanced up at him. “She said she could use it as a display piece, and . . . and I think it’s for the best.”
“You . . . you don’t have to do that. I mean, it’s yours. You should do whatever you want with it.”
“I am.” She squeezed him tight. “I’m giving it away. So we can both move forward.”
He nodded, his heart too full for words, and held her close. The future was still uncertain, the path ahead shrouded in mist. But he had Hali by his side, and that was enough. It would always be enough.
They headed through the Artisan District, the grimoire carefully wrapped in thick cloth, and Osric felt as though he were walking on air. He and Hali had bared their souls to each other, had faced danger and betrayal and uncertainty, but here they were, together. He couldn’t stop the smile that tugged at his lips, the way his heart pounded at the sight of her. She was a miracle, a gift, and he would spend the rest of his days trying to be the man she saw in him.
They reached the Starlight Sanctum, the grand townhouse that served as Illyria’s shop, and the door swung open before they could even knock. Illyria stood in the entrance, one eyebrow arched, a knowing smirk on her face.
“Well, well. If it isn’t my favorite codebreaker. Come to visit me again so soon?”
Osric felt a flush rise to his cheeks, but Illyria’s smile was kind, not teasing, and he relaxed. “Hali has something she wishes to donate to your collection,” he said, and gestured to the grimoire.
Illyria’s eyes widened, and she turned to Hali. “Is this true, my dear? Whatever for?”
Hali’s cheeks were pink, but her chin was lifted, her gaze steady. “I . . . I think it would be safer here. And more useful. I don’t care to go through the trouble of selling it, and I can’t think of a better place for it to be.”
Illyria’s smile softened, and she held out a hand. “I would be honored to take it off your hands, then. I promise I’ll keep it safe.”
Hali placed the grimoire in Illyria’s outstretched hand, and Osric felt a weight lift from his shoulders. It was over. The book that had caused them so much trouble, but also brought them together, was now in safe hands. He laced his fingers through Hali’s.
“Thank you,” she said, her voice barely more than a whisper. “For everything.”
Osric squeezed her hand, his heart too full for words. He was home. He was where he belonged.
Illyria’s eyes sparkled, and she nodded towards the grimoire. “You know, there are some pretty fun spells in there. Nothing too dangerous, I swear. Mostly just for parties.”
“Parties?” Hali asked, her eyes widening.
Illyria laughed. “Indeed. Everlasting party bubbles, that sort of thing. Here, I’ll show you.”
She flipped open the grimoire, its pages whispering beneath her touch, and scanned the spells. Then she selected one and read the incantation aloud. A soft, shimmering light filled the air, and the shop was suddenly awash in multicolored bubbles that smelled faintly of fruit.
Hali gasped, her hands flying to her mouth, and then she burst into laughter. She caught Osric’s eye, and he allowed himself a small, amused smile. Hali took his hand, her grip strong and sure, and squeezed it.
“I think we’re going to be okay,” she said.
As they left the Starlight Sanctum, Osric’s heart was pounding in his chest, a wild, untamed thing. He glanced over at Hali, and she met his eyes, a soft, shy smile on her lips. It was a smile that undid him, that laid bare his every defense. She’d seen the worst of him, the coldest, most ruthless parts of his soul, and still she smiled, still she reached for him.
“I don’t suppose you’d like to see my new workshop?” he blurted out.
Hali’s smile widened, and she laughed, a tinkling, joyful sound. “I thought you’d never ask.”
Osric’s heart swelled. “It’s not far. Just on the edge of the Artisan District.”
“Then lead the way, my knight in soot-stained linen.”
His eyes stung, and he turned his face away, his cheeks burning. He’d never been anyone’s knight before. He’d never had anyone worth fighting for. But he would be hers. He would be whatever she needed, whatever she wanted.
They walked in silence, but it was a silence charged with meaning, with promise. Every now and then, Osric would steal a glance at Hali, at the way the lamplight caught in her curls, at the soft, dreamy look on her face. He felt like he was walking through a dream himself, a dream he never wanted to wake from.
