and disappointment. Not to mention how irritably uncomfortable I am from being so close to Lexan.
“Tell me again why we have to touch?”
“Here. Just read the journal for yourself,” Lexan says, retrieving the small leather book from his satchel. I snatch at it before he changes his mind – this is the first time he’s actually let me read it. His fingers brush mine and I jerk my hand back quickly, clutching the book.
Lexan shoots arrows at a tree across the clearing as I turn to the passage he has marked and begin to read Firene’s words, carefully translated between the lines in Lexan’s small block print.
Today I recovered another bit of text from Lakessa’s burned book: the Lady and her Scales must be one. Fire needs air to survive, and air is no threat without fire.
“And so you think that since it says ‘one’ we need to touch?” I ask. The other pages aren’t decoded yet, and I wonder what secrets they hold.
Lexan pauses his shooting and kneels beside me. “There are other possibilities for that word. But I thought holding hands would be the least problematic.”
I can’t quite look him in the eyes as my brain begins to list the other ways we could become one.
“And you’re sure the fire and air thing is literal?” I’m still getting comfortable with the idea that Lexan can charm someone’s thoughts, and I can lend them bravery. Now I have to figure out how to summon fire and control air?
“Aries is a fire sign, and Libra is air. Just going on instinct here. But it makes sense. In Asphodel, I never really felt like I could control air, but here – outside – it’s different. Like it speaks to me or something.” He flushes a little, flicking his eyes away, then back again.
I remember how the air had seemed to feed my bravery when I kissed him that night – whispering to me, helping me locate people’s reactions and sudden belief in our partnership.
“What?” He asks, one eyebrow raised as he studies my face.
I shake my head quickly, feeling my cheeks grow warm. There is no way I’m admitting to thinking about that kiss. Again.
“Let’s go back for lunch. I’m starving,” I say instead.
Lexan shoulders the quiver and bows and we walk along the path in silence.
“Trea,” he starts, then stops. He pauses behind me on the path and I turn back. Sunlight again paints golden streaks in his hair, casting his eyes into shadow. “Look, I know you’re having a hard time believing you could be the lady of Justice. That all this could even be real. But it’s our history. Our religion. Why can’t you try a little faith?”
I start walking again. We’re such a mismatch: he a minister and me a non-believer. “I used to have faith, you know.”
“What happened?”
“Remember when I told you about the Initiation Ceremony, and how it made me start to see you as the enemy? Something forced on me?” I ask.
He frowns and nods, and I continue. “Well, the night before that was when I stopped believing in the stars. I heard Mother and Father talking about the two babies they had lost, before I was born.” I stop for a few seconds, swallowing around the guilt of carrying this memory, and spilling it now. “They forced the prophecy, Lex. By having me early too. After that, I just knew none of it could be real. How can something really be fate if people can change it so easily?”
“Do you know when Aitan’s birthday is?” Lexan asks.
“One day too late to be me.” I smile ruefully, thinking of how many times I’ve wished Aitan had been born on the Spring Equinox, four years before me.
Lexan laughs. “Well, he couldn’t exactly be taken for the maiden. But they didn’t know he would be a boy.” He grips my shoulder, asking me to look at him. “Do you know when Pasia’s birthday is?”
I shake my head, trepidation growing in my heart.
“One day before the Autumn Equinox. Your parents weren’t the only ones trying to time a birth, Trea. Illegal or not, my