Vylaena stepped across the room, avoiding piles of stacked books. She stopped before Alaric, staring intensely at his chest.
“Are you going to pinch him, too?” Thyrian demanded, following her like a nervous shadow.
“Pinch me?” Alaric asked, taking half a step back and hitting the edge of the couch. He fell backwards onto the cushions. “Why?”
But Vylaena had moved on, stepping in front of Flinx, their eyes meeting in a clash of brown and grey.
She sucked in a breath.
Nothing.
She felt nothing. No heartache, no anger, no pain. None. She closed her eyes and it was the same. The world around her, for the first time, was blissfully, mercifully quiet.
She laughed.
It was a deep, mirthful, belly-clutching laugh. She felt it ring through her chest, into her arms, down her legs, into her feet.
She’d done it—she’d actually done it. She’d finally lifted her Curse.
When she opened her eyes, everyone was staring slack-jawed at her.
“It’s gone,” she explained, unable to keep the grin off her face.
Thyrian was the first to understand. His face lit up to match hers, and it was like the sun stretching over the horizon.
“Your Curse?” Alaric asked. “But how?”
“I stopped Eyren from abusing another goddess,” Vylaena said breathlessly, plopping down on the couch opposite him, weariness finally catching up with her. She paused, her smile slipping. “Well. At least mostly. I think he might’ve gotten some of her. Not everything, but something.” She exchanged a glance with Thyrian. “Eyren’s eyes were gold when I went to strike him down. Asta’s gold.”
“We couldn’t find him,” Alaric said, his voice low. “We had the Guard search for days. No one’s seen him. They even cleared out that tunnel he escaped through. It was a dead end. Flinx thinks he likely escaped by Pulser.”
Vylaena cursed. “Tell me everything. What about the other ether-touched?”
“Many of them died,” Flinx said, her eyes dark. “Killed by the etherstorm or their chest wounds. But not all. When Alaric led the Guard down into the caves to help you—”
“Alaric led the Guard?”
She and Alaric shared a glance, and Alaric gave her a fleeting, proud smile. “Let’s start at the beginning, shall we? What happened after you left that trap on Thyrian’s door?”
✽✽✽
It took most of the evening for everyone to explain what had happened in the days leading up to and including the night of the ritual, and what had occurred while Vylaena was unconscious.
The king had not taken the disappearance of his son well—seeming to forget, Alaric said, that he’d practically disowned Eyren after their mother’s death. The king spent most of his time cloistered in his rooms, where Alaric had taken to holding daily meetings to prepare for the other threat currently simmering to the south. He and Thyrian had drafted a treaty of alliance between their respective kingdoms as well—non-contingent on a marriage to Caeslin. And Flinx had been instrumental in explaining what etherial defenses Enserion had available to them, along with sharing her connections in the cathedral.
“I don’t like that Eyren’s still out there,” Vylaena said when they were done, absentmindedly running a finger down one of Alaric’s velvety couch pillows. She’d never noticed how soft they were before. “Tomorrow, I can—”
“No,” said Thyrian and Alaric at the same time. They glanced at each other, and then back at her.
“I didn’t finish,” Vylaena protested.
Alaric took a breath. “We will figure everything out once you’ve healed completely. Until then, you need to rest.”
“But if I just—”
“Vylaena,” Alaric pressed, in a no-nonsense tone, “rest.”
“When did you grow a backbone?” she snapped, glancing away.
He merely shrugged. “Perhaps some of your stubbornness just rubbed off on me.”
✽✽✽
Thyrian walked Vylaena back to their rooms after a quick dinner in Alaric’s suite, and she was forced to lean heavily on his arm every time they came to a set of stairs. Her chest ached relentlessly and her breath was quick to run out; whatever burst of energy had whisked her to Alaric’s rooms was long gone now.
When they arrived, Vylaena followed Thyrian into his chambers, not yet ready to retire to her own for the night.
“How are you really feeling?” Thyrian asked her in a gentle voice, perching on the edge of his bed as she collapsed into a cushioned armchair. “About the Curse.”
Vylaena didn’t answer right away. She wasn’t even sure she had an answer. It had gone so quickly, so abruptly. And even as she was relieved for its absence, she found there was an odd emptiness at the corners of her awareness that had once been occupied.
By pain, of course. But occupied. In a way, her senses were duller for it.
“I don’t know,” she replied. “Everything I was taught... it’s all... well. I get to make my own rules now, don’t I?”
“I think you always could have,” Thyrian said evenly.
Vylaena shrugged.
A contemplative quiet fell over them, long enough that the last vestiges of sun slipped over the horizon and Thyrian had to move to the desk to light an oil lamp.
“Alaric wants to try and recruit the Shadowheart to Enserion’s cause.”
Vylaena’s head snapped up. “What?”
“And he was hoping you’d be the one to ask them.”
Something akin to fear rose in Vylaena’s throat before dissipating. “They won’t care. It’s a useless venture.”
“Perhaps. But Alaric wants to try. Especially if they see that helping can be a path to redemption.”
Vylaena fixed him in a dark stare, disliking where this was headed. “Don’t treat me like a saint. I’m not.”
“I know. But somehow you got that dagger out of your heart. There’s a strength in you that the world needs to see.”
Vylaena let out a hard breath. She didn’t know exactly what had happened. And she didn’t think it would take a few minutes of cursory introspection to figure it out.
“When does he want me to leave for Aeswic?”
“As soon as you’re well and the physician signs off on your fitness,” Thyrian replied. “And it’s we, not you. A Galiffan Ambassador wouldn’t hurt our chances with the Shadowheart, and it’s on my way home. I’ll journey on to Meidhyr Castle afterward.” One corner of his mouth twitched upward. “Besides, Alaric seems to think you’ll get yourself into trouble without me around.”
Vylaena frowned at him. “I thought I was supposed to be your bodyguard.”
“Not this time,” Thyrian replied, his half-smile growing to a full-on grin. “So what do you think? Will you go?”
Vylaena mulled it over, weighing Cyair against Aeswic in her mind. It had been years—years—since she’d left. To go back, after all this time, after all that had happened...
It could be an adventure, she thought, a thrill of eagerness climbing up her spine. And she’d be what, an ambassador herself? For the kingdom of Enserion? It certainly sounded better than being a mercenary. Much less blood involved. Probably. And if she could negotiate a raise...
“To Aeswic, then,” she said, a smile curving up her cheek. “Tell Alaric I’ll go.”
Acknowledgements
Mom, thank you for being wholeheartedly supportive of my creative inclinations from day one. Your unwavering encouragement has been invaluable.
Keith, thank you for seeing to the heart of my story and offering kind, genuine, actionable feedback. Through your edits I’ve learned so, so much.
Matthew, thank you for being a positive, encouraging partner—without you, this book would only be a shadow of what it has become. I can always count on your unique insight to guide me through any rut or blocker.
A special thank you to my beta readers: Ciera, Priyanka, and Erin. Each of you took time out of your busy lives to critique a
friend’s (very rough) manuscript, and for that I’m forever grateful.
About The Author
L. M. Coulson
Born on Maryland’s western shore, L. M. Coulson was involved in the arts from a young age: constantly drawing, performing, crafting, and writing. After graduating with a fine arts degree, she moved to the midwest and pursued a career in graphic design—while continuing to practice her writing after hours.
When she’s not writing, Coulson enjoys learning new hand lettering techniques, playing video games, and being the Dungeon Master for a small group of adventurous friends.
Keep up with future book updates at lmcoulson.com
Ether-Touched (The Breaking Stone Trilogy Book 1) Page 40
