The moonflowers are blooming, glowing silver against the cloak of darkness that is a winter night. And something about the ethereal light beckons to me.
I close the drapes, then grab my cloak from a peg by the door and fasten it about my neck before heading out into the cold.
As I step into the snow and close the door behind me, the quiet of the night settles like leaves falling to the earth. The air is crisp and sharp, with the unmistakable freshness only winter can bring. It chills my nose and lungs as I breathe in deep, and steam puffs around my face as I let it out with a sigh.
Hooves crunching across the snow, I make my way toward the blooming moonflowers. As I draw near, I appreciate their light and the way it glows and reflects off the snow around their bases, turning everything a shimmering shade of silver and blue.
I kneel before them, and immediately, another memory returns to me.
Lyra sitting with me on a blanket, watching the moonflowers bloom and glow. The wonder in her eyes as she first watched them unfurl. Then her weight in my lap, her fingers dragging through my beard, the heat of her body and the press of her lips against mine.
Still kneeling, I bury my head in my hands and let out a growl.
What is wrong with me? Why did I allow this to happen?
I knew this could only end badly, knew it would just be messy and painful and wrong. But I let it go on anyway, let myself believe that maybe, somehow, it would work. After all these years, these feelings are unearthing my memories of my ex—the looks on her parents’ faces when she introduced me to them, the horror when they realized their daughter wished to marry a beast, a monster.
They didn’t know me. Didn’t want to know me.
But Lyra knows me. And yet it still didn’t work out. It’s like love isn’t meant to be—at least, not for me.
When will I accept that?
As I kneel there in the snow, a cold wind twines through the trees, rustling the moonflowers and sending one blossom drifting down to settle upon the snow. My eyes follow its movement. It glows for a short while, clinging to life, but like all things, it eventually succumbs, its glow fading until it falls dark.
I reach for it, scoop the delicate flower with its creamy-white petals into my palm. And as I cup it there, I realize something.
Nothing lasts forever, no matter how badly I might wish for it to.
And it might be time for me to stop gripping and just... let go.
My gaze lifts to my hut. The windows glow with very subtle firelight, the drapes drawn and still. Smoke puffsfrom the chimney in a steady stream, drifting up into the night sky until it slowly disperses and vanishes from view.
I love it here. I’ve settled into this place, my roots growing deep into the earth. I’ve never wanted to be anywhere else. But now I have a chance, an opportunity at something different.
Will I let my fear hold me back?
Another cold wind dances around me. It snags the moonflower from my palm and sends it spiraling through the air. I track its movements with my eyes until the wind steals it from view, carrying it somewhere I can’t follow.
With a deep sigh, I brace my hands on my thighs and push to my hooves. My cloak shifts and settles about my fetlocks, buried deep in the snow.
I tip my head back and regard the sky, with its thick cloud cover and fleeting glimpses of stars.
And I know what I have to do. I just hope it’s the right decision for both of us.
Chapter 40
Lyra
I’VE GOT A POT OF leftover vegetable soup heating up in the kitchen, and Juniper is taking a nap on the couch while I sweep the scuffed hardwood floor. Papa is already coming in and out from his workshop, dropping wood shavings everywhere he goes.
Honestly, I think,how does he survive around here without me?
The thought causes a ball of guilt and anger to form in my gut.
Was it selfish to want to attend Coven Crest? Papa raised me on his own after Mama left us. He worked hard every day to give me the best life he could. But as soon as I was old enough to leave, that’s exactly what I did.
Just like her.
