Page 131 of Heavenly Bodies
Elara bit her cheek to stop herself from crying as Isra led her into her house, rubbing her eyes.
‘This prophecy…I have tried to run from it, tried to find a loophole in it. But I can’t deny my feelings, my truth.’
Isra sat her down, before disappearing into the kitchen with a stifled yawn. Elara heard clinks in the small kitchen as Isra set about making tea. She came in a few moments later, handing Elara a cup of hot mint and honey. She wrapped a towel carefully around Elara’s shoulders, drying her hair that was still damp from the baths.
‘When I’m around Enzo, I feel…I feel as though I am drawn to him.’ She touched her heart. ‘Here. I crave him even when he’s right in front of me. I’ve tried to push him away but he won’t listen.’ She let out a shuddering breath. ‘How can I give him my heart when the prophecy says it belongs to another?’
‘You never told me what happened the night of the summer solstice,’ Isra said softly.
‘We were in one of the compartments on the solstice. Enzo gave me his crown, and then—’
‘He gave you hiscrown?!’ Isra interrupted, disbelief widening her eyes. Elara stilled.
‘Yes…He rested it on my head. But it was just a silly game.’ She paused, dread forming.
‘Elara, tell me exactly what he said and did.’
‘He…’ She frowned, trying to recollect the hazy smoke-filled memories. ‘He knelt before me and took the crown off. He said, “I give you my crown, Elara,” and placed it on my head.’
Isra paused for a long moment, studying Elara. ‘He knelt before you,’ she whispered. ‘Enzo has never knelt before anyone. Not even his father, theKing of Helios, Elara.’ Isra let out a long breath. ‘In the Helion court, there is a tradition. It dates back centuries. To give you his crown—it means that when he ascends to power, he would choose you as his queen, or forfeit his kingdom for you.’
Elara’s heart pounded. She must have misheard.
‘That can’t be true.’
‘It is custom to give one’s crown, then show them to the court as yours once they have decided that you are the future they choose. No doubt if you weren’t interrupted, he would have walked out with you, letting everyone see you wearing it.’
Memories rushed to Elara, tripping over each other as she understood the magnitude of what Enzo would do for her, what he had already done.
‘The sirens.’ Her words were barely more than an exhale of breath. ‘One looked at me and told me,told methat her song didn’t affect me. And asked me if I knew what that meant.’
Isra nodded. ‘The siren’s song doesn’t work on those already in love. That’s the truth, Elara. Enzo is in love with you.’
Elara’s hands were shaking. She couldn’t stop them.
‘When we first met, and you read me…you told me you’d seen Enzo and me combining our powers,’ she said. ‘You saw something else, didn’t you?’
Isra sighed. ‘Yes, but that’s for him to tell you. Though I promise you, Elara, the fear you feel for the pain the prophecy may lead you and Enzo to…it’s worth it.’ Her eyes softened. ‘Isn’t it better to let your heart feel every peak and valley of life, than to close it and feel nothing at all? Isn’t the pleasure of love worth the pain?’
She looked at the clock hanging above Elara’s head. ‘Speak to him, Elara. He stopped in here, a little while ago, on the way to his studio. Just…go to him. There’s still time before tomorrow. For the love of Stars just tell him, will you? Tell him that you’re in love with him too.’
Her footsteps thumped on the cobblestones as she ran, following the familiar route through the darkened streets of Sol to Enzo’s studio.
The door from the street was locked. She didn’t let that stop her, heading around the back of the building, clambering over the wall to the terraced garden and breathing a sigh of relief when she found a window had been left open.
Hesitating for a moment, drawing a shaky breath, she eased herself through the gap and into the studio.
Enzo wasn’t there.
The space was as they had left it when they had created the duskglass those weeks ago, her novels strewn across the soft divan, Enzo’s tools cluttered on a workbench. A carafe of water lay on the small table in the terraced garden. Sheentered quietly, yet more tears threatening to spill. Every blissful moment, every good, pure memory had happened in that space. She trailed to the workbench, her hand skimming the tools, a sad smile on her face as she remembered Enzo force-feeding her vanilla pastries in that very spot.
She let out a shuddering sob. He wasn’t here, and Ariete was as good as upon them.
Elara turned, her eyes catching on the screen that Enzo had worked behind, marked with paint and chalk, a fine dust settled over it. His secret project. She smiled again as she ran her fingers over the material of the screen and moved it aside.
A harsh breath left her.
A woman was carved into the gigantic slab of stone that stood as tall as Elara. She was exquisitely detailed, her arms thrown out in untamed abandon, hair spread around her, and a gleam of courage in her eyes. The woman’s lips were carved into a smile of half elation, and flowers—forget-me-nots, Elara realized—were impressed into the wild locks of her hair. She traced the curves of the figure beneath a dress that looked like it was being tugged by the air around them. And Elara knew, as she took a step back and drank the art in, that she was looking at herself.