Page 86 of Elemental Becoming

Her gaze flicks toward Sera before returning to me. “He’s . . . different. In a good way.” A beat. “Happier.”

Something in my chest tightens.

“And for that,” she adds, more quietly now, “I’m grateful.”

Sera’s hand lifts, brushing lightly through Rowena’s dark hair, her fingers lingering at the back of her neck. It’s an easy gesture, one she’s likely done countless times.

Rowena leans into it without thinking.

Lyra, who has been watching all of this with a barely contained grin, finally chimes in.

“Well, of course he is,” she says. “Have you met her?”

I roll my eyes. “Ly—”

“No, I’m serious,” she insists, leaning forward. “She’s always been like this. Wild. Stubborn. Doing things no one else would even attempt.” Her grin softens. “It was only a matter of time before the rest of the world caught up.”

Rowena arches her brow. “Wild, is she?”

“Very,” Lyra says without hesitation.

Sera smiles slightly. “That tracks.”

Rowena’s attention returns to me, more curious now. “So. How is all of this going?” She gestures to the room, but her meaning is clear. All of it. The Spiritborn, the capital, my life being completely redefined.

I hesitate, then answer honestly. “It’s . . . a lot.”

Sera nods. “I imagine it is.” She tilts her head slightly. “And how are you handling it? Being the Spiritborn?”

Lyra’s eyes meet mine, understanding in them. She’s been with me since the beginning—since my powers awakened the night my parents died.

I let out a breath. “Some days are better than others.” A small pause. “I’m still figuring it out.”

“That sounds about right,” Rowena mutters.

I glance at Lyra, a small smile pulling at my lips. “I couldn’t do any of it without her.”

Lyra blinks, clearly caught off guard for once. “Well,” she says, sitting up a little straighter, “obviously.”

I laugh softly.

The night stretches on, the laughter spilling over like the wine in our cups.

Three bottles of deep red, rich and heady, now empty, sit clustered in the center of the table, their corks discarded somewhere among the crumbs of dinner. I cut myself off after three glasses, knowing my limits, but the others? Not so much.

Rowena lounges in her chair, one boot propped up besideher, looking entirely at ease. Sera still sips, slower now, her sharp gaze softened by the wine.

And Lyra—

Lyra is a disaster.

She’s half-slumped over the table, giggling at something no one said, her glass abandoned after nearly slipping from her hand twice.

I shake my head, amused. “Alright, that’s it for you.”

Lyra lifts a hand, wagging a finger in the air. “You always say that, and yet—I am still drinking.”

“No, you’re not.” I gesture towards her. “You finished that half an hour ago.”