“That’s why your father locked it up, instead of trying to get rid of it.”
Wen nodded.
Talia stared into the flickering fire. “But why—whydid she go down there in the first place? Why didn’t someone stop her?”
“No one knew the temple was there. She found it one day, dug away at the hill until she uncovered the door. And by the time anyone else read the inscription, it was too late.”
“It could have been something else that made her ill. It wasn’t necessarily that—that thing in the temple.”
“Maybe,” said Wen, uneasily. “I did someresearch a few years back, and the oldest records indicate that the temple predates the village by several centuries. I found a few stories that swear it was built by Haisar’s brother, after the earth swallowed him for dishonoring the Tree. That would line up with the inscription’s claim that the sliver was made by Haisar’s axe.”
Talia shivered. What would have happened if she’d touched it? “Thankyou for stopping me.”Thank you for saving me,she meant.
He nodded, the serious expression not leaving his face. “I’m glad I was there in time.”
“Do you know anything about the jar of light down there? The … Star-light?” She could still feel the echo of its warmth on her skin where she’d touched it.
“Supposedly it was a spark that fell from the last Star when it was dying, after the gods stolethe other two, before the One made it burn hotter and it became our sun. A child caught the spark in a glass and made an offering of it to the temple, so the story goes.”
They looked at each other, and Talia suddenly saw in him a soul as lost as she was.
“Will you help me shut the temple up again?” he asked her.
Her skin crawled at the idea of going back in there, but she nodded.
Wen stoodand offered Talia his hand. She took it carefully, and he pulled her up. He held her hand a moment too long, but when he let go she regretted the loss of his steadying warmth.
She followed him outside and back down to the ancient chamber. Rain dripped over the door.
Talia lit another candle and held it up for Wen, hardly daring to breathe as he shut the lid of the glass-and-iron casket. He returnedit to the hollow in the marble pillar, and then they stepped out into the rain. It took both of them to drag the stone door shut. They hammered the chains back into the hill, and Talia grabbed Ahned’s keys from where she’d thrown them in the grass. The rain tapered off, dwindling to a few icy drops.
“Thanks,” said Wen, as they trooped back into the house. “Ahned will never know.”
She lookedover and he was smiling at her, an unguarded, genuine smile.
The strangeness of the temple still pulsed through her, but her panic had faded. “Thank you for saving me,” she said, brave enough now to tell him what she really wanted to.
In the vestibule, they heard the sudden clatter of wagon wheels on the stones in the courtyard. Talia’s heart seized up—was it possible Caiden was coming backin a carriage?
The guardedness returned to Wen’s face and he abruptly stepped away from Talia, bowed uncertainly, and disappeared down the hall, mumbling something about his symphony. She stared after him—she’d had a glimpse of what it might be like to be his friend, and she didn’t quite want to let it go.
But every nerve was humming with the possibility of seeing Caiden again, ofkissingCaidenagain. She flushed and stepped out of the house, not even caring about her filthy dress.
She peered into the gathering twilight as the carriage drew near. It was made of light wood, with gold trim around the roof and the door, and was pulled by a handsome pair of matching grays. Avial was nowhere in sight, and Talia tried to shake off her disappointment—definitely not Caiden.
The carriage lurchedto a stop in front of the house and before the footman could even jump down, the door opened and a young woman stepped out. She adjusted her green felt hat, an ostentatious mess of ribbons and feathers finished with a large silver buckle. Talia thought it was extremely ugly.
The young woman herself was a tall, pale beauty, perfect yellow curls cascading out from underneath the horrible hat. Shewore a bright-green gown, with a voluminous skirt, and delicate lace gloves.
Talia took all this in at a glance, staring at the newcomer and trying to make sense of her sudden presence.
The young woman saw Talia, too. She frowned, deeply, but didn’t offer any comment.
A demure-looking maidservent stepped out of the carriage after her, and the footman hefted a trunk from off the roof. “ShallI start bringing these inside, my lady?” he asked, nodding at the remaining three trunks.
“Inform Lord Estahr-Sol of my arrival first,” the young woman replied.
“At once, my lady.” The footman set the trunk down beside the carriage and bowed smartly.
