Aryel stared at her.

  “Because you saved my life,” he said after a beat. “And I know something happened to you at that monastery.”

  It wasn’t any of his business what the Lightguards did with their own. She’d deserved the punishment for her carelessness.

  “They burned me,” she said anyway, her voice small. The truth poured out of her like a dam breaking, and the sheer horror on his face pulled at a thread within her, a thread she both feared and hoped would unravel something gnarled in her soul.

  “You saved my life that night, Corinne,” he said. There it was—her name again. “You didn’t deserve that. Goddess, if I’d known they would do that to you…I’m so sorry.”

  “It was a fair punishment for my negligence,” she said, closing her eyes. They flew back open at the sudden presence of Aryel’s hands on her face.

  “No, it wasn’t.” His voice was low, dangerous almost, but still gentle, and his eyes burned with an intensity she hadn’t seen before. “What they did to you was wrong. It was needlessly cruel, and I can’t think of anyone less deserving of such treatment.”

  Corinne could only blink at him through her tears. He brushed them away from her cheeks with his thumbs, and for a moment, his gaze shifted downward to her mouth. Corinne nearly stopped breathing. Surely he wasn’t thinking about⁠—

  “I’m sorry.” He released her, the whisper of his hands lingering on her cheeks. “I’ve been wanting to tell you that for two weeks, but you wouldn’t let me say anything unless it was about training or council meetings or my schedule.”

  “Sorry for what?” she asked.

  “For being a fucking ass to you since you got here,” he said. “Sorry— swearing. I’ve been trying to limit that, by the way, not sure if you noticed.”

  A choked laugh burst from her lips. “We haven’t been speaking enough for me to notice a difference.”

  “And whose fault is that?”

  Corinne exhaled slowly, the tears finally subsiding. “I have tried to…be better. To ensure I am serving Helaera and being Her Sword and Her Light.”

  “Well,” Aryel said, “I can say with full confidence that the barbaric thing they did to you had nothing to do with Helaera’s Light.”

  Corinne wasn’t sure if she wanted that to be true or not. It was a comfort for someone to tell her that her pain was a tragedy rather than a revelry of the Goddess, but was that the truth, or just what she wanted to hear in her weakness?

  “Now that you’re speaking to me again, why don’t we start over, hm?” he said, holding out his hand to her. “I’m Aryel.”

  Corinne stared at him, at his outstretched hand, and hope flickered in her chest. This kindness, his concern for her, felt genuine, and if she knew anything to be true, she knew Helaera honored such acts.

  She placed her hand in Aryel’s. “Corinne.”

  “You can also call me Ari,” he said, squeezing her hand before dropping it and stepping into the corridor again, this time beside her instead of in front. “That’s reserved for friends only, though, so no more icing me out, yeah?”

  Corinne huffed, allowing that warmth she’d fought to spread within her. It almost felt the way her magic did, and surely something like that couldn’t be entirely bad or unholy.

  “All right.”

  Chapter 18

  Early the next morning, Corinne knelt before her little altar and closed her eyes. It had only been one day since Vera’s visit, and the conversation stung like a fresh wound. Somehow, though, Corinne also felt…lighter.

  Vera’s loss hurt, but the fear of wondering what others might think, the worry that Vera secretly believed she wasn’t good enough, had vanished. Corinne knew exactly what Vera thought of her now, and it was likely anyone else who’d heard about her transgressions thought the same. All she could do was try to be better.

  I can’t think of anyone less deserving of such treatment.

  More of that hope flickered within her. Aryel hadn’t judged her that night she’d had an episode in front of him, and still had confidence in her abilities, in her goodness. Vera wouldn’t approve of a close friendship with the prince and the others she’d met here, but Corinne had spent the past fifteen years pushing away everyone but Vera, and it had done nothing to prevent her from making mistakes.

  What if she could allow herself to find comfort and confidence in others to find her way back to her purpose? What if she could strive to be the person they believed she was?

  Corinne didn’t execute the full weekly ritual; she’d done it only yesterday, and this was simply an additional communion with Helaera. Breathing in the fresh morning air wafting through her open windows, Corinne started to sing.

  Fear not, my dear one, the sun will still rise

  My Light will greet you when you open your eyes

  You won’t remember the shadows that fell

  Hold tight in moonlight, and I’ll keep you well

  Normally when they’d sung this song at the monastery, a fiddle or flute or harp would accompany them, and Corinne could almost hear the instruments in her head as she sang the second verse.

  Look not to futures that may not arise

  Keep faith and look for my star in the sky

  You won’t be lost here, you’ve found a home

  Wield now the sunlight, wherever you roam

  The scent of impending rain hung in the air when Corinne stepped into the alcove and greeted the guard who’d been at Aryel’s door overnight. The woman yawned and walked off, and Aryel emerged from his room several minutes later. He’d consistently been awake before noon for the past week.

  “Hi, Corinne,” he said, adjusting the cuff on his dark blue sleeve.

  “Hi, Ari,” she said, and his eyes lifted to hers, a lopsided smile on his face.

  The flood of warmth behind her navel didn’t scare her this time; she could do this. She was above temptation now, resigned to her life and her duty here.

  She escorted Aryel to the kitchens, where workers tossed him a scone, fully expecting his visit. They tossed one to Corinne, too, and she caught it with a grateful nod. She ate it quickly, uncomfortable with having either of her hands occupied when she was meant to be guarding Aryel. It had been baked with raspberries, and she nearly sighed at the taste even as she practically inhaled it.

  Goddess, Corinne, eat the roll, don’t inhale it. The memory of Vera’s lighthearted admonishment sent a pang through her heart. Had it truly been lighthearted then, or had Vera always seen her as some trainee in danger of straying? Had she lied all these years about not judging her based on who her father was, what he had done?

  Aryel arrived at the library, and Corinne joined him inside despite the limited visitors within. It was still awkward to stand in corridors with twice as many guards walking around. Servant activity had also increased with all the nobles now staying on the grounds.

  So Corinne took up a spot by the end of one of the stacks, with a full view of the library entrance and Aryel at a table piled high with books. His brow scrunched up as he read and then scribbled something down on parchment. What was he studying so intently?

  A book tumbled to the floor to her left, and Corinne turned to find Nik crouching between the stacks to retrieve it. She hadn’t even heard him approach.

  “Hi, Nik,” she said, and the surprise on his face when he looked at her turned her stomach.

  One day she would figure out how to avoid doing and saying the wrong thing so she could live without this constant shadow of guilt.

  “Hi, Corinne,” he said, straightening with the book in his hands. “Are we on speaking terms again, then?”

  She grimaced. “I’m sorry. I was…it doesn’t matter. I’m sorry.”

  Nik offered her a small smile, adjusting his glasses with one hand. “Don’t worry about it.”

  “Helaera honors your capacity to forgive, and I’m grateful for it,” Corinne said.

  Nik approached her, patting her shoulder. “Wonderful. Now can you forgive Danai and me for scandalizing you in the gardens?”

  An embarrassed laugh caught in her throat. “Only if you promise never to speak of it again.”

  Nik grinned broadly at her. “Deal.”

  Nik returned to his work, and Corinne stood steadily at her post as others filed in and out of the library over the next hour. Councilor Toro appeared, approaching Aryel and speaking with him at length, both of them occasionally pointing to the text of a book Aryel had open on his table. Corinne couldn’t make out what they were saying, but it seemed they were trying to solve some sort of problem.

  Nik was shelving several books in the stack next to Corinne when Councilor Toro noticed him and stood, bidding Aryel farewell.

  “Nik,” Councilor Toro said, his smile bright. “Danai tells me you’ve reached a breakthrough in your studies on ancient texts?”

  “I wouldn’t call it a breakthrough,” Nik said. “Not yet, at least. But Danai is ever the optimist.”

  “That they are,” Councilor Toro chuckled. “Very well. I’ll see you the evening after next, then?”

  “I’ll be there,” Nik said. He tilted his head toward Corinne. “I’ve told Corinne she ought to join us.”

  “I wouldn’t want to overstep,” Corinne said quickly, cheeks flushing.

  Councilor Toro looked to her, an open smile on his kind face. “You would be most welcome, dear. Please do join us if you can.”

  The councilor bid them both a good day before departing, and Nik huffed a soft laugh.

  “I told you there was no imposing on the Mykotas household,” he said.

  Corinne’s smile faded as she turned her attention back to Aryel, who now looked worried instead of just perplexed as he stared at the books and parchment before him.

  “Everything all right?” she asked, approaching his table.

  He sighed, leaning back in his chair and rubbing his face. “The eastern farmlands did not yield as much as we’d hoped this past year,” he said. “Their stores are running low. The lands in the west produced plenty, but figuring out a way to transport that food quickly and securely has been a challenge. We can’t let this issue continue into the summer and autumn, or we will have a crisis come winter.”

  Corinne glanced at the maps, books, and notes strewn about the table. “And this is a new issue?”

  “There was a similar problem about a hundred years ago, according to several accounts I’ve read,” he said. “But we have a greater population now, and the location of the villages provides additional complications that our predecessors did not have to handle.”

  He pointed to the villages in question on the map, and Corinne frowned.

  “Could the Lightguards not help?” she asked.

  Aryel paused. “You think they could?”

  Corinne shrugged. “They travel around more than anyone in the kingdom, and our magic could quickly remedy any ailments along the road and prevent animals from approaching the wagons of food.”

  Aryel blinked at her, one hand scratching his jaw as he considered it. “That would be brilliant.”

  “I can write to them if you’d like,” Corinne said. “As soon as today.”

  Aryel gave her that lopsided smile again, and she ignored the flush that crept up her neck.

  “Thank you, Corinne.”

  She offered him a smile and nod in return. “Those people are under the protection of the Crown and the Lightguards, and it’s our duty to serve them.”

  His face turned pensive for a moment, and a bit of doubt crept along Corinne’s skin. Perhaps it wasn’t acceptable to describe the royals as servants to the people, and she’d somehow offended him.

  “Let’s hope that the other Lightguards are half as willing to help as you are,” Aryel said.

  As Aryel went back to poring over the books and papers, Corinne shook off the nagging fear that his skeptical tone was warranted. She’d send that message later, ask for the help needed, and perhaps help strengthen the tie between the Crown and the Lightguards as the two great pillars of Ashera.

  Few others ventured into the library during Aryel’s stay, and Corinne was grateful for the quiet as she returned to her post by the stacks. Perhaps the other nobles had all drunk themselves unconscious the previous night and were still recovering.

  “Corinne?”

  She turned at Nik’s approach, offering him a little smile.

  “Danai and Iliana will be outside training tomorrow at the usual time,” he said as he placed another book away on a nearby shelf. He gave a little shrug. “Just in case you wanted to know.”

  More guilt settled in Corinne’s gut at the thought, but she knew it wouldn’t dissipate until she spoke to them.

  She nodded once. “That is good to know,” she said. Stay the course. “Do you…are they angry with me?”

  “Angry? No,” Nik said, placing his hands in the pockets of his tan trousers. “Perhaps a little confused. I’m sure you can clear things up.”

  Corinne wished she had such confidence. Knowing that she’d suspected them of spying at first, when in reality they’d been genuinely kind to her with no other motive…she had to try. Helaera guide me.

  “I will try,” she said.

  Chapter 19

  Corinne took a deep breath before stepping outside the castle doors onto the training grounds the next day. Heavy clouds obscured the sun, but she still had to squint in the diffused light of midmorning. A cool breeze ran through her hair and ruffled the long sleeves of her white tunic.

  Aside from facing this conversation, she was in better spirits. Hopefully she’d taken a step in rebuilding her own honor by sending that message to the monastery yesterday. If she could contribute in some small way to serving both the Lightguards and the people of Ashera, that would be enough to start.

  The smell of rain clung to the air, and very few guards were sparring or making use of the archery range. From here, though, Corinne could make out Iliana and Danai in the ring with sandy terrain. Her palms grew sweaty, but she pressed forward.

  Iliana fell to the sand with an oof just as Corinne reached the ring’s perimeter, and Danai held their sword to her throat with a satisfied grin. They both laughed, and Danai helped her up. Danai’s smile faltered when they caught sight of Corinne, and Iliana’s gaze followed.

  “Hi,” Corinne said feebly. Great start, Corinne.

  “Hi, Corinne,” Danai said, walking over to her. Iliana hesitated before joining them. “How are you?”

  “I’ve been better,” Corinne said. “But that’s not why I’m here. I wanted to apologize to you both.”

  They exchanged a quick glance, their faces surprised but not unkind.

  “I’ve been cold these past two weeks, and neither of you deserved that after your kindness toward me.”

  Danai’s face softened into a smile. “Corinne, we know you’ve had a lot to face here. And we’ve all made mistakes.”

  “Yeah, did you miss the part where I punched another guard in the face during lunch?” Iliana quipped, and the three of them laughed.

  “So…can we train together again?” Danai asked. “And will you join us for meals again?”

  Corinne nodded, a weight lifting from her chest.

  “Eugh, Danai, no more training in sand when we have a shift later,” Iliana said as they stepped inside, headed for the dining hall. “I’ll be shaking sand out of places I didn’t even know existed for the rest of the day.”

  Danai’s laugh was echoed by a loud clap of thunder from outside. “At least we got inside before that started.”

  “Corinne Anastos!”

  The three of them whipped around mid-stride, facing a servant who scurried toward them, a stack of messages in hand. He wheezed as he halted, holding out one to Corinne.

  “A letter came for you this morning,” he said, and Corinne’s heart leapt. Had the monastery gotten back to her already?

  She took it, thanking him, and walked on with Danai and Iliana, unrolling it while they continued their conversation a pace ahead of her. Corinne read it quickly and stopped breathing.

  I know your secret, Corinne Anastos.

  There was no signature, no symbol indicating who it had come from. Corinne’s head felt suddenly heavy, her lips and cheeks going cold. Who could know her secret? And why tell her if they didn’t want something? Why just send her this cryptic note?

  “Corinne?”

  Danai and Iliana turned several paces ahead of her. She hadn’t realized she’d stopped walking.

  Stay the course. Be the Light. Stay the course. Be the Light.

  Someone knows your secret and is going to tell all the Lightguards. You’ll never regain their respect or trust.

  No, she couldn’t let that happen.

  And you deserve it because you’re a fraud and you always have been.

  Corinne hadn’t started gasping for air like last time; instead she was frozen, fear and dread spreading throughout her body, immobilizing her.

  “What did the note say?” Danai asked, concern written on their face.

  Corinne blinked, swallowed hard. “Not here,” she managed to say.

  Danai and Iliana exchanged another look before nodding to one another. She followed them to that same storage room they’d ventured to after Iliana’s lunchtime brawl and, before shutting the door behind them, ensured no one else was outside.

  “Corinne, what’s going on?” Danai asked.

  “Are you hurt?” Iliana asked, looking her over. Corinne shook her head. “Is someone you know hurt?”

  “No,” she croaked, and it forced her to take a gasping breath.

  Danai gently took the letter from her hands.

  “Can I look?” they asked, and Corinne nodded her assent. Danai’s brow furrowed deeply. They handed the note to Iliana, who looked equally perplexed after reading it. “I don’t understand.”

  “Neither do I,” Iliana said. “So you’ve got a secret, and some anonymous fuck sends you a note about it? Without even threatening you or asking for something so they don’t spill it? That makes no sense.”