Chapter Text
A philosopher once asked: Are we human because we gaze at the stars? Or do we gaze at them because we are human?
Pointless, really. Do the stars gaze back?
Now that’s a question.
Lexa Woods had never given much thought to philosophy. Pondering the thoughts of stars after all, would not win her the heart of her true love. She would have to prove her value, go forth into the world and make her fortune to do that. Something she won’t get working in a shop in her home town.
“Lexa!”
The sharp sound of her name startles her. Mr. Kane is frowning at her, one hand on his hip, the other holding out a broom.
“I’ve been calling your name,” he says, shaking his head.
Lexa takes the broom and begins sweeping the shop floor. “I apologize, Mr. Kane. I was…distracted.”
He goes back to arranging the fruit display. “You mean you were daydreaming about Miss Wentworth.”
Heat floods her cheeks. She wants to protest, but they both know his accusation is true, so she squares her shoulders and focuses on sweeping, moving the broom rather more forcefully than necessary.
Together they open the store and soon it is well into late morning. Lexa gathers orders for the townsfolk who venture in, darting around the store and into the back when they run out of anything. Saturdays are always busy so by early afternoon, Lexa is already exhausted and irritable.
Mrs. Kensington’s usual order is in her wicker basket when the old woman feebly tries to lift it, groaning at the weight. With a sigh (because this is not the first time and she really should have seen this coming), Lexa offers to carry the basket to Mrs. Kensington’s house and the old woman happily accepts.
When she returns to work, she sees several boys hanging around in front. Lexa recognizes them all of course—everyone knows everyone in this town—but specifically, she knows them to be sons of some of the richer families.
In the middle, leaning against the wall, is Elliot Quint, son of the mayor and Lexa’s primary rival all throughout school. He is an arrogant, insufferable boy, who uses his father’s position and wealth to gain anything he wants. Next to him are his younger brother Wesley (equally arrogant and possibly more insufferable) and their friend Ryder West, whose mother owns much of the western half of town.
Lexa despises all three of them.
She tries to slip past without them noticing, but Wesley looks up just as she reaches the door.
“Eh, Woods! Not even gonna say hello?”
Lexa ignores him, tries to step around, but the boy moves to block her path. “Don’t be rude now.” There’s something about the way he smirks that’s unsettling, and she knows instantly that they were waiting for her. “Come and give my brother congratulations.”
He herds Lexa over to where Elliot and Ryder stand. They’re all taller than Lexa by several inches, making her feel crowded. Compared to these boys, in their fine suits and neat haircuts, she feels every inch the poor shop girl. Her coarse clothes are dusty, her face smudged with dirt, and strong as she is, she feels weak in their shadows.
Despite her desire to never speak to any of these boys, Lexa asks, “Congratulations for what?”
“On his future engagement of course!” Wesley crows.
Lexa’s stomach drops at Wesley’s words. There’s only one person Elliot could be proposing to, but she can’t help but clarify, “Engagement to whom?”
Elliot’s smirk is infuriating. “Why, the lovely Miss Costia Wentworth, of course.”
Lexa tightens her jaw and says nothing, not wanting to give him the satisfaction. She wants to smack that smirk right off his face, but she keeps her hands at her sides.
“I have it on very good authority that she’ll say yes.” Elliot examines his nails, seemingly unconcerned, but his eyes flick up to watch her expression.
“You don’t know that,” Lexa bites out.
Ryder and Wesley laugh, but Elliot just continues to smirk at her. “Mr. Wentworth himself gave me his blessing. He approved of my plans to travel to Annapolis in the morning to purchase a ring. I’m sure Costia will be equally impressed with my efforts.”
Lexa grits her teeth. “You think you can win her over this way? She doesn’t love you.”
“Oh I know so.” Elliot pushes off the wall and steps toward her. “You see Lexa, unlike you, I have something to offer Costia. I can provide for her, give her everything she desires. Money, jewels, everything. You know she’s accustomed to a certain lifestyle. She’ll make the right choice with her head not her heart.” Elliot is right in her face, but Lexa refuses to back down. “You think your little school girl crush will be enough? When will you learn that love is weakness. You need more in this world. And you, you’ll always be a little shop girl. You’ll always have nothing.”
The last of Lexa’s resolve snaps.
Her fist slams into Elliot’s nose, sending him tumbling back into a display of apples, spilling them everywhere. Ryder and Wesley are yelling, but it’s all muted in Lexa’s ears. She lunges at Elliot, to push him back down, muss up that clean pressed suit of his, shove the words back into his mouth, but arms catch around her waist and throw her back.
Her back slams into a wooden support post, her breath knocked from her body, but she’s aware enough to duck the fist flying at her face. Ryder’s punch sails past her, and Lexa uses his momentum to push him to the ground.
Before she can recover, Wesley spins her around by the sleeve, right into the path of his fist. It catches her on the cheek and she tastes blood. She stumbles and goes right over the edge of the porch, sprawling in the dirt below.
There’s barely time to even get her bearings before Wesley is there, grappling with her, trying to pin her down. Lexa flails an arm up and smacks him in the face, but it’s not enough to knock him off completely.
“Hey—hey! Break it up!” Mr. Kane shouts, pushing Wesley out of the way so he can reach Lexa.
A small crowd has formed around them by now, angry murmurs passing among them. Mr. Charleston, the butcher from next door, shoves Wesley toward his brother, who’s holding a handkerchief to his bleeding nose.
“Alright, get out of here, go home,” he says, gruffly.
“Hey, she started it!” Wesley scowls, but walks off with Elliot and Ryder.
Mr. Kane gets Lexa to her feet and swipes at her back to brush the dirt from her clothes. Lexa carefully feels around the inside of her mouth with her tongue, still tasting blood. Her head is spinning and her knuckles throb where she struck Elliot’s face.
The crowd around them disperses now that the fight is over, still muttering unpleasant things. Mr. Kane escorts Lexa into the back room of the store and sits her down on a stool so he can look at her cheek. After a moment he determines all she needs is some ice.
Lexa can feel his disapproval even before he starts talking.
“This is the third fight I’ve had to break up between you and those boys, Lexa.”
“I was provoked,” Lexa says, immediately.
Mr. Kane gives her a stern look. That’s no excuse. Lexa knows it’s true, but she still feels the sting of Elliot’s words.
“If you’re incapable of handling your temper, I’m afraid I can’t allow you to work in my store any longer.”
Lexa tries to protest, but Mr. Kane shakes his head. “We can talk about you returning another day, Lexa. But for now, I think you ought to go on home. Keep icing that cheek. Get some rest.”
*
“You lost your job,” her father repeats in a flat tone.
Lexa bows her head. “I’m sorry father.” She’d tried to think of a story to justify her actions, but she’s never been very good at lying.
“I already knew about the fight,” he says, sitting down heavily at the table. “Everyone was talking about it. And then the Mayor paid me a little visit.”
Lexa gulps.
“I persuaded him not to press charges. But if this happens again….” The threat is obvious.
The girl shakes her head and sighs. “Don’t worry, I don’t plan on going anywhere near Elliot Quint again. Getting into a fight and losing my job over it sort of puts things into perspective. Maybe Elliot was right. I’m not good enough for Costia. So I should just—”
“Not good enough?” Her father leans forward with a frown. “Did he tell you that?”
“Well he’s going to propose to Costia soon and he seems to think she’ll say yes. What do I have to offer?”
“You have your kind heart, Lexa. Go speak to Costia, tell her how you feel.”
Lexa holds her father’s gaze for a moment and then nods.
*
The streets are quiet and empty a few days later, as Lexa hurries past the big houses and well-manicured yards of Costia’s neighborhood. Lexa heads to the most familiar home and slips through the gate and around the house to find Costia’s window on the second floor. It’s blocked by a curtain, but there’s a faint light glowing behind it, hopefully indicating that its occupant is still awake. She finds a small pebble and pings it against the window.
As she waits, she fidgets, smoothing out her clothing, and running a hand through her loose curls. She’d left it out of the single braid she normally wore as Costia had once said she preferred it down. It falls in her face this way more often then she cares for, but she ignores it for the time being.
A minute or two passes and Lexa considers tossing another pebble, but then the curtain parts and Costia pushes open the window. She doesn’t look happy to see her.
“You shouldn’t be here, Lexa.”
“I know,” Lexa says quickly, raising her hands. “But—I have something for you.”
“An apology, I hope,” Costia sniffs, crossing her arms.
Lexa resists frowning. “Please? Come with me? Just for a little while.”
Costia sighs and steps back into her room, closing her window a sharp snap. Lexa lingers uncertainly for a minute, because Costia didn’t say one way or the other and how long was Lexa prepared to wait?—until Costia slips out the front door, a shawl pulled around her shoulders.
Lexa grins when Costia takes her proffered arm and leans into her as they walk. It’s a short trek to the edge of town and then into the meadow that borders the Wall. Costia is just starting to complain about how much further? when they reach the picnic Lexa has set up.
A soft blanket is spread out on the grass. A basket containing food, a bottle of champagne and two crystal glasses, sits in one corner. There’s a circle of candles and Lexa hurries to light each of them until the air seems to glow around them.
Costia watches from the blanket as Lexa pours them each a glass of champagne and they clink their glasses together before they take their first sip.
“I’ve never had champagne before,” Costia remarks. Her smile is giddy and genuine and Lexa feels her belly swoop.
“Me neither,” Lexa says, taking small sips. She doesn’t particularly like it, but Costia seems to, so Lexa pretends she does as well.
She pulls out two small plates, bread and cheese for each of them. It’s not the plain, cheap stuff she usually eats at home, but the expensive sweet bread and aged cheese from the specialty shop at the end of High Street. There is even some rich dark chocolate for later.
For once she spared no thought to cost, wanting to impress Costia. Or at the very least, not remind the girl of Lexa’s lack of wealth. Unfortunately, the proximity of Lexa to such expensive things has the opposite effect.
Costia looks around at everything. “This… how did you afford all this, Lexa? This must have been all your savings.”
Lexa shrugs, uncomfortably. “So?” She takes a bite of the sweet bread and tries to savor the richness.
“Lexa, I know shop girls don’t make that much. If this is how you spend it—”
“I’m not a shop girl,” Lexa interrupts, lifting her chin. She hates being called that.
Costia frowns at her. “I heard. My father told me all about the fight.”
“They provoked me,” Lexa says, a little petulantly. “And they fought back.” The fading bruise on her cheekbone is proof enough of that.
“You almost broke Elliot’s nose.”
“He’ll live.”
Costia sighs and shifts one arm behind her to lean on it as she tilts her head to look at the night sky. “Wesley says he’s extended his stay in Annapolis now to give his nose time to heal before he returns with my ring.”
“You say that like you’ve already said yes.”
“Well, I can’t exactly say no, can I? After he’s gone all the way to Annapolis.”
Lexa scoffs. “All the way to Annapolis. That’s barely even two days journey on foot. I’d travel the world for you.”
Costia looks at her, all shy surprise and a pink flush to her cheeks behind her half full glass of champagne. “Really?”
Lexa gets up on her knees, setting her glass aside. “Costia, for your hand in marriage, I’d cross oceans. I’d go to the gold fields of San Francisco and bring you back your weight in gold.” She’s leaning in and so is Costia. “I’d travel to Africa and find a diamond as big as your fist.” They’re so close; Lexa can feel Costia’s breath on her lips. “I’d go to the Arctic and slaughter a polar bear, bring you back its head.”
Costia reels back immediately. “A polar bear’s head?” She shakes her head in disgust.
Lexa sighs, sitting back on her heels. She goes back to her champagne, wrinkling her lip just barely at the taste.
Costia giggles a little, reaching up to trail her cool fingers over the bruise on Lexa’s cheekbone.
“You are cute though. Fighting for my honor?”
She’s mocking her, Lexa knows, so she rolls her eyes and looks away.
“It’s just as well, Lexa. People like me and people like you, we don’t—” Costia stops, because she must see the way Lexa’s jaw tightens. “My father would never allow it.”
Lexa winces. This isn’t going the way she’d hoped. “Let’s just… finish the champagne?” She asks, holding up the half empty bottle. Costia sighs and nods, holding her glass up to be refilled.
They fall into silence, both gazing into the star filled sky. Lexa hopes there are no stars gazing back to witness her rejection this night.
*
Fortunately for Lexa, there aren’t any stars watching them, as all celestial attention is trained to the east, far beyond the Wall. Deep in the realm of Stormhold, an immense castle sits high on a cliff side. Lights spill from the open windows up the spiraling towers, lighting up the night bright as day. Servants inside are in a frenzy, trying to prepare for the arrival of the royal children as they arrive from across the kingdom. There are only five, but each bring with them a host of attendants and unique demands.
In the highest tower, King Thelonius lies on his grand bed, wrapped up in furs and blankets. Chills rack his body no matter how many layers he piles on and he knows he doesn’t have long. This illness is beyond all help, whether natural or magical, but he has resigned himself to this fate. What troubles him now is the fate of his country. He has ruled this land for thirty seven years but now the crown must pass to one of his heirs.
But which one? His kingdom didn’t deal with hierarchy nonsense; first borns or superior genders. Instead he wants the most worthy of them all to lead.
One of his attendants announces that two of his children have arrived and with his permission, they’re allowed in. The two that step in are his youngest and the two that get along the least. Wells is the only one of his children to come of Thelonius’ blood and it is this fact that drives the majority of the animosity from John. It hadn’t even been certain that Wells would have the royal spirit—simple blood relation wasn’t always a determinant—and the king had been careful not to play favorites among his children. Still, the two regularly erupted into fights over the simplest of things.
The boys stand at the foot of Thelonius’ bed, at opposite corners, not bothering to hide their distrust for one another.
“Father,” Wells says, clearing his throat. “How are you feeling?”
Before Thelonius can reply, John speaks up. “Better question, why are we here?”
“Have some respect, John,” Wells snaps. “He is your king.”
John rolls his eyes and opens his mouth to respond in kind, but Thelonius interrupts with a sharp, “Boys.”
The king looks sternly between the two of them, daring them to make another comment. “Why I have summoned you here is a matter of great importance that involves the very fate of this country. As such, I must wait until your siblings arrive before I disclose it.” Wells nods solemnly, while John rolls his eyes.
They don’t have to wait long before the other royal children arrive. First is Atom, a strong willed young man with a love of swords and gambling, followed by Anya and Lincoln, close in age but opposites in temperament. They join their young brothers at the foot of the king’s bed.
Thelonius glances at the door with a frown. “Where is your sister, Luna?” The eldest of his children should be here.
Lincoln speaks up, quietly. “I’m sorry Father, no one has seen Luna for years.”
Thelonius sighs. “Very well. My children, I have called you all here together to witness the end of my reign as king.” He holds up his hand to forestall any comments. “My time has come, I have made peace with it, and I must ask you to do the same.” He looks at them all one at a time. “Regardless of the circumstances of your birth, each of you was found to hold the royal spirit and thus became my children. All of you carry the blood of the noble house of Stormhold, and as such, each of you have the potential to rule once I am gone.
“I have waited and watched, to see which of you would be my successor. I thought I would have more time. But if I am to leave this world in peace, I will have to give fate a push, to ensure that the proper successor is chosen.”
The children wait for something momentous to happen and while the older children look merely curious, John and Wells have excitement in their eyes. Thelonius carefully removes the necklace from around his neck, the one he’s worn since he first took the throne, more precious to him than the crown itself. The chain is thick silver, ornate and intricate, and at the center is a large ruby.
He holds the necklace up by the chain so they all can clearly see it, then wraps his hand tightly around the stone. “Only one who holds the royal spirit can restore the ruby.” He lets the stone swing from the chain, now leached of all color, clear as glass. “The one that does will be the next ruler of Stormhold.”
Slowly he releases the chain and the necklace hovers in the air for a moment. The king slumps back against the pillows, closing his eyes. As the last breath leaves his body, the necklace jolts into movement. It rockets straight towards Lincoln’s head before he’s knocked out of the way of John making a desperate grab for the gem. Wells lunges as well, but it shoots beyond their reach and out an open window.
John and Wells jostle each other rushing to the window and the others follow to watch the necklace disappearing into the night. It seems to disappear until there’s an explosion of light high among the stars and the light starts falling, plummeting back to earth. It falls beyond the mountains and out of sight.
“Fate’s making a game of it, I see,” Anya says, her lips curling into a smirk.
*
Back on the other side of the Wall Costia cries out, pointing up. “Look Lexa, a shooting star!” A light streaks across the sky, passes overhead and disappears beyond the woods on the far sie the Wall.
“Beautiful,” Costia murmurs.
Lexa can’t help herself. “More beautiful than a fancy ring from a boy with a crooked nose?”
Costia elbows her lightly but laughs anyway.
Lexa gets up on her knees again. “Costia, for your hand in marriage, I’d cross the Wall and find that fallen star for you.”
“You can’t cross the Wall, Lexa, nobody crosses the Wall. Now you’re just teasing.”
“No, I’d do it,” Lexa says earnestly. “I’d do anything for you.”
Costia considers her, evaluating Lexa’s sincerity. “Alright,” she says finally. “Bring me the star, and I’ll let you ask for my hand.” Lexa’s eyes light up but Costia holds up a finger. “But! You’ll have to make sure to bring it back before Elliot returns, or I marry him.”
Lexa sets her jaw, nodding firmly. “Deal.”
*
After she sees Costia safely back home, she heads straight for the gap in the Wall. She still has a bit of the food left in her satchel, as well as some money. It’s perhaps foolish to leave in the middle of the night, but she knows her father won’t approve, and the day guards are much more formidable then the night guards.
The Wall stretches into the distance in either direction uniform and unremarkable except for the gap, a space wide enough for several people to walk through abreast. For as long as Lexa can remember, she’s understood that the Wall is a boundary, and the gap the only doorway. If Lexa is to cross the Wall, here is where she must do it.
As she approaches, two boys jump to their feet, on either side of the gap. Lexa knows both of them from school, though they were a couple years behind her. Jasper Jordan and Monty Green are both short and too skinny, parentless and thus wards of the guardsmen. At sixteen they took their places as guards at the Wall.
The boys converge on the gap, crossing their arms, trying to look intimidating. They look nervous, but excited to be handling their first incident on duty.
“Why if it isn’t Lexa Woods,” Jasper drawls, tilting his head. “What brings you out this fine evening?”
Lexa supposes there’s no use in hiding her purpose there. “I need to cross the Wall.”
Monty raises his eyebrow. “Nobody crosses the Wall, you know that. Everybody knows that.”
“I don’t suppose there’s any way you two could just let me pass, and we’d keep it our little secret?”
Jasper gasps and he puffs himself up with outrage. “We’re charged with guarding the portal to another world, and you’re asking us to just let you through?”
Lexa rolls her eyes. “Yes. Because, let’s be honest. It’s just a field.” She steps forward and drapes her arms around the boys so they turn and look through the gap with her. “Look, do you see another world? No, you see a field. Do you see anything… non-human? No. And do you know why? Because it’s a field!”
The boys jerk away from her, hurrying to resume their human blockade.
“Hundreds of years, this Wall has been here,” Jasper starts, speaking as if reciting from a script. “Hundreds of years it’s been under twenty-four hour guard.”
“Well—”
“No,” Jasper puffs his chest out. “One more word and we’ll—we’ll bring you up before the Council!” Monty nods vigorously, backing up his friend.
Lexa narrows her eyes. “Well, that sounds rather final. I suppose I will just head home then.” She backs up a couple steps before turning around. She hears the boys release their breath in relief, shuffling in the grass back to their spots by the wall.
She waits a beat longer, before spinning around and making a break for the gap. The boys leap to intercept her and she hears Monty yelling ‘Stop! Stop!’, but Lexa is already leaping over the stones of the gap.
For a split second, she thinks she’s done it, she’s crossed the Wall, but then she triggers the snare trap lurking on the other side. Something slams into her stomach and then she’s tossed bodily back through the gap. She lands on her upper back so hard her momentum flips her over onto her front and it’s a long moment before she can lift her head from the dirt. Monty and Jasper stand above her, arms crossed, dual smirks on their faces.
Monty nudges her with his toe. “Well, off you go.”
Lexa drops her face back down with a groan.
*
She sneaks back into her home, trying not to wake her father. She sets her bag down by the kitchen table and slowly starts to work her jacket off her shoulders. As her sore ribs and back protest the movement, a voice startles her.
“Lexa? What’s wrong?” Her father is at the foot of the stairs, staring at her with concern.
“I’m fine,” she says, trying and failing to stand up straight without wincing.
Her father clucks his tongue. “Fighting again, Lexa?”
The comment makes her frown. “No. Actually, it was the night guards at the Wall. They rigged up some sort of snare trap, to catch anyone passing through the gap. Rather violently, I might add. It should be illegal to build something as dangerous as that.” She pulls a chair out from the table and sits down.
“It’s illegal to cross through the gap at all,” her father reminds her, joining her at the table. “May I ask why you were trying?”
Lexa avoids his eyes, feeling sheepish. Eventually though, her father’s stern look cracks her silence. She explains about her night with Costia and the shooting star. “I thought that if I could bring it back for real, I would have something to prove my worth to her. Something Elliot wouldn’t ever be able to give her.”
“Sweetheart,” her father chides softly. “Haven’t I told you that gifts are not the way to win someone’s heart?”
“What else am I to do?” Lexa says, hopelessly. “Elliot is going to propose to her and she’s going to say yes. I don’t know what else there is for me out there.”
“Lexa, I’ve done my best to raise you by myself. I’d hoped that this life would be enough for you.” Her father sighs, considering his daughter for a long moment. “But perhaps, it’s time. Come with me.”
Her father stands and leads her upstairs and then up into the attic space. It’s a small, cramped little room, filled with trunks, boxes and a heavy layer of dust. Both of them are too tall for the space, forced to hunch over until they’re both seated, Lexa on the floor and her father on the edge of a dark blue trunk.
After rummaging around, he pulls out a small box and holds it in his lap unopened. “I was just about your age when I crossed over the Wall,” her father starts.
“You went over the wall?” Lexa exclaims. “Why?”
He shrugs. “Youthful rebellion? A lust for adventure? It was dangerous and exciting, and my parents told me not to, so I did it.”
“What’s over there?”
“Another world. A fey world of dark magic and wondrous dreams. I went through the forest and I stumbled into the middle of a night market. Shops, tents and booths set up everywhere. They held the most extraordinary and terrifying things, that which I can hardly distinguish from dreams now. And at one of these tents, I met your mother.”
“What did she look like?”
Her father smiles, dreamily. “Beautiful. The most beautiful woman I had ever seen. Eyes the color of the forest and a smile the enthralled the senses. Her name was Luna, like the great full moon that hung in the sky above us. I was captivated. We talked for a long time and eventually she offered a glass flower from her stall. I had no money, but she wanted only a kiss in exchange.
“We spent the night together. But in the early dawn I found my way back to the Wall and by the next day everything that had happened felt like dream. It wasn’t until nine months later that a basket was left at the Wall, holding an infant child and a letter addressed to me.”
Lexa raised her eyebrows. “And that child was me?”
Her father nods. “Yes,” then after a beat, “Your mother named you.”
“But… but why did she leave me at the Wall? Why didn’t she want me?” Lexa couldn’t help but feel a pang of hurt.
“The night that I met her, she told me she was a princess. That she’d been tricked into being a witch’s slave. There was a chain locked around her ankle that kept her bound. I tried to cut the chain, but it was enchanted. Only the witch’s death could free her. I imagine that’s not the life she would choose for her child.”
Her father opens the small box in his lap. First he draws out a fine silver chain, about a foot in length, then a small, pure white, glass flower. He hands both to Lexa, who takes them and cradles them in her palms.
“She told me the flower would bring me luck. I know she would want you to have it.”
Lexa turns the glass flower and the silver chain over in her fingers.
“I have a mother,” she says, almost to herself. “I have a mother.” All these years, she’d given up any thought of one; so much so that she’d almost convinced herself there had never been one at all. Yet now she had physical evidence in her hands.
Her father pulls out the last item from the box, a thick, sealed envelope. “This was in the basket with you. I never opened it, as it’s addressed to you.”
Lexa carefully stows the glass flower in her breast pocket, the silver chain in another, and takes the letter. The envelope is thick and wrinkled from whatever is inside. She slits the seal with her nail and pulls out a slip of similar heavy parchment, barely catching the long black candle that falls out of it.
The letter is short, written in beautifully flowing script.
My dearest Lexa,
Please know that I only ever wanted the best for you. Had my mistress allowed it, I would have kept you in a heartbeat. My dearest wish is that we may meet again one day. The fastest way to travel is by candlelight. To use it, think of me, and only me. I will think of you every day, for always.
Love,
Your mother
Lexa runs her eyes back over the letter. Her mother’s script is far more graceful than Lexa has ever been able to achieve in school. She wonders if the woman behind the pen is as equally beautiful. If her father is to be believed, she is. Or had been eighteen years ago.
“She could still be alive,” Lexa says, looking up at her father.
“I hope so,” he smiles. “I certainly like to think so.”
Lexa looks back down at the letter, reading it again. So she hadn’t been heartlessly abandoned as a baby after all, but the loss sits no less heavy in her chest.
The fastest way to travel is by candlelight.
What did that mean? She considers the black candle in her hand. Clearly it had been included for a purpose. She turns to her father. He looks quietly hopeful that this letter and his story has been enough to make up for a lifetime of lying to her.
The corner of her mouth lifts into a half smile. "Well, do you have a light?"
Her father nods and rummages among his pockets until he finds a book of matches. Lexa holds the candle in both hands as her father strikes the match and holds the flame to the wick. As it catches, Lexa closes her eyes and thinks mother.
There’s a blinding flash and she is moving faster than she could have ever thought possible. She feels her body flow and extend through space, the warm wax of the candle her only tether to reality. The flame flickers violently and briefly she thinks of a shooting star streaking through the night.