Page 124 of The Reckoning of Starlight

Serenna spun toward them as they landed, their wings vanishing almost in unison. “Do you two have nothing better to do than follow me around?”

“Plenty.” Wind whipped Fenn’s braids across his shoulders as he tilted his head. “But not more pressing than preventing you from confronting your sister without us.”

Her fingers twitched toward Ayla’s Starshard, hidden in her leathers. “Ayla is tethered. I have her gem blood-bound, and she can barely stand.”

Serenna glanced between them, but neither so much as budged.

“Kaedryn said she went into labor during the evacuation,” she explained. “I need to see what she brought into this world.”

Vesryn frowned at the guarded tower. “Then lead the way.”

“Fine.” She turned back toward the entrance. Arguing would only postpone seeing what Ayla had delivered.

They entered the spire and followed the path upward. At the second level, the stairwell opened into an airy gallery where arches framed narrow platforms above the clouds, nothing beyond them but open sky.

Two of Fenn’s sisters guarded a recessed doorway, one facing the stairs, the other watching the horizon beyond the arches. Their crimson eyes flicked to Fenn before they stepped aside.

The chamber beyond was small enough that Vesryn and Fenn filled the doorway behind Serenna, their presence settling against her back like a second wall.

Ayla sat on a pallet against the stone, her body curved around the bundle in her arms. Thin blankets lay twisted across the floor, blood dried where the fabric bunched.

Since yesterday, her face had sharpened to gaunt angles, pallid skin drawn tight over bone. Her crimson hair hung dull over one shoulder, tangled into brittle ropes.

Ayla’s fingers trembled over the baby’s scalp, smoothing wisps of pale copper. Serenna had never seen her sister touch anything so gently. The child slept against her, swaddled in linen cut from some larger garment.

Serenna stepped further inside the room, and Ayla’s head whipped up, eyes bloodshot but full of threat.

Neither moved.

“Is she…well?” Serenna asked.

“As well as any infant can be,” Ayla snapped, “rotting in your rebels’ ruins.” A cough racked through her, one hand clamping over her ribs until she could breathe again.

“And if you were back on Centarya, the king would already have her.”

Serenna crossed to the pallet and sank onto her heels. Up close, the child’s nose was delicate, her mouth bowed in sleep. Her face held a peace the war had tried to steal before her first breath.

The baby stirred, tiny fists opening and closing. Ayla murmured something against her hair.

The infant’s lashes fluttered.

Every muscle along Serenna’s spine locked.

Silver shone beneath them—the exact shade burning in Galaeryn’s gaze.

The room seemed to tilt. Serenna surged to her feet, pulse hammering in her throat. “Her eyes—”

“What did you expect?” Ayla hissed. “She shares his blood.”

The child blinked, slow and unfocused, her attention sliding past Serenna.

“Is she…” The question splintered on Serenna’s tongue. Please be innocent.

Vesryn stepped forward. “Is an Aelfyn already wearing her skin?”

“She’s mine.” Ayla bared her teeth. “Even the king’s reach can’t touch her this far.”

Serenna met Vesryn’s emerald eyes, the same color Galaeryn’s had been before power turned them silver. Whatever watched from behind the infant’s gaze—newborn innocence or something far older—gave them no sign.