Page 36 of On Broken Bonds

“We should call it an early night,” Thorian says suddenly, as though sensing I have more questions for him. When he turns to me, I can’t read his expression. “We leave early for the Trials in the morning, and we’ll need the rest now while we can get it.”

“Right,” I agree, the thought of the Trials starting sending a shiver of trepidation through me. It’s just as well that we have an early night. I’ll have to figure out how to fit everything I’ve experienced into a letter for Ivor and Hilda, find someone to send them the correspondence before we set off.

Who knows when my next opportunity will be to communicate with them? Sending a letter with the news of joining the Trials might be cruel, but at least then they’ll have an idea of where I am.

Earlier, I toyed with the idea of poking around the palace, trying to find my sister or someone who might tell me about her. But when I tried to talk to one of the servants, they looked so scared that I felt bad. They wouldn’t reveal a god’s secret. They’re not dumb enough to do such a thing.

I suppose the gods would have a terrible punishment for a servant disobeying them, and I don’t want to take part in that. I just have to tell myself that Lyra is being taken care of. For now, I have to focus on what I can affect.

Thorian walks me to my room, which reminds me more of the one I had at home than the chambers I occupied at the inn.

“Where’s your room?” I ask, then feel my face flush at the implication. Hastily, I add, “In case something happens tonight and we must find one another.”

“I won’t be staying here,” Thorian says, his gaze darkening. “But I’ll be here first thing in the morning. You can trust in that.”

My fingers tighten around the handle of my door, deciding the hell with it.

“Do you know where Lyra is?”

He goes still.

“No.”

The answer is immediate. Certain. Not evasive.

“I've never been told where the Courted Prizes are kept,” he continues. “Only the gods and a select few servants seem to know. I wish I could give you something more.”

Disappointment settles over me, though I can't honestly say I expected a different answer.

“I just…” I swallow. “I keep thinking she's scared. Wondering where I am.”

“If she's your sister, she's spending every moment believing you'll find a way to save her.”

I cling to those words more tightly than I probably should.

“Thanks,” I say, swallowing and stepping backward. He lingers in the hallway, waiting for me to close the door.

Just before I do, I whisper quickly, “Good night, Thorian. Sleep tight.”

I think he won’t answer, but he says a begrudging, “You as well, Nyx.” The words come through the crack in the door, and I can’t help smiling.

12

Nyx

I wake at dawn at the sound of a fast rapping on the door, dress quickly in my new fighting leathers, and meet Thorian in the hallway.

“We have a long journey if we’re to arrive on time,” he says, not meeting my eyes as I hastily gather my hair and tie it back. I’ll have to find a moment later to do something more elaborate, like a braid to keep it from being a liability, like I had it yesterday for the presentation. “We should start now, to beat the other teams there.”

But by the time we make it out to the road leading out of the city, it’s clear the other teams had precisely the same idea. We walk along the road, ignoring them when we spot them, resting or stopping to fill their canteens. It’s awkward, and I wish for Ivor at my side, a familiar face for an unfamiliar trek.

Finally, after the sun rises and burns the dew from the crops around us, and the city is nothing more than a speck in the distance, Thorian says, his voice low, “Prepare yourself.”

We’re still walking along the road, with teams ahead of us and others trailing behind. There’s nothing around but swaths of trees, a forest that I have no interest in exploring.

“For what—?” I start to ask, but then I feel it. The sensation of pushing through a viscous barrier, one that feels like my own magic but far stronger, clinging to my skin and dragging at me.

I look to Thorian, wild-eyed and confused. He seems to move easier than I can, and with what sounds like an annoyed grunt, he reaches back and takes my hand.