Flamefall (The Aurelian Cycle, #2)

by Rosaria Munda

Some things you don’t have to see the proof of. Some things you just know. Lee believes in my goodness as I believe in his.

Fury subsides into exasperation. “It’s not a zero-sum choice, Power, you or him—” His face screws up. Eyes squinted almost shut, he says: “Maybe it is. For me.” And finally, I understand. Oh, Power. He has a heart after all, and now that he’s bared it, I’m breaking it. “But it’s not . . . for you,” he realizes. I shake my head, throat suddenly tight. “No.”

I force myself to focus on her words instead. These words, these thoughts, this precise mind I’ve missed even more than I missed the sight of her.

If my parents taught me to have courage, Duck taught me to see. To see beauty and to love it, to let myself smile. And in this small way, I will never lose him. Even if, as I did my mother’s, I one day forget his face. Duck’s a part of me.

He is frozen, looking down at me, his face in shadow in the darkness of Aela’s wing. “How do I look?” “Like someone I was taught to ignore.” My breath skips. “Good,” I whisper.

It feels brilliant and blinding and free, the clarity that comes with this realization. We’ll set our sights on the stars together. But they’re different stars, and we’ll stand back to back.

“Try not to make too much of a mess of things while I’m gone.” Lee lets out a puff of breath. “Come back before I do,” he says.

“Raze them to the ground.”

I lift my head to look at him. He looks back at me. And that’s when I know: Delo didn’t tell them anything. Delo stands by me. Even now.