As we lie near the fire to sleep, I give thought to something Hanna said.
“We all have secrets, Lyra. If Damin holds something back from you, he has his reasons. I doubt it is to hurt you.”
Damin has hurt her, though. First by leaving Grenmassin and then in not sending word for five years. After asking for her hand, he vanishes. What was she supposed to think? She felt abandoned. Damin explained why, but it does not erase the years of waiting and wondering. Then she learned about Alyssa. It rankles still. It hurts.
She trusts Damin … but maybe not entirely with her heart anymore.
Lyra flips over to ease an aching hip. It does not at this point matter, however. There are graver and greater issues to deal with, such as the spire marked on Joseph’s map.
She closes her eyes. Every time she does so, she sees it before her, as clear as in the initial vision on the road to Porlese. A needle on a peak. It has no colour, but that may be a facet of time. Is she seeing it in daylight or at night? Or is she seeing something from the past transposed onto the present? Colour will be there only when she stands at the foot of the needle … hopefully. She sees her hands on glowing orbs, each with a strange symbol etched into a curve. One of those, or a combination of orbs, is able to protect against the asteroid.
A shield to bounce it away? A pulse to nudge trajectory? A weapon to blast it into tiny pieces?
She has no idea, and the uncertainty of the approaching choices no doubt has her questioning the motives of those around her, near and far.
“You think too much, Lyra,” Hanna murmurs from the other side of their fire.
I probably do, yes.