Page 98 of The Last Remaining Light

Agatha’s expression flattened. “You truly are doomed.”

Something dangerously close to laughter nearly escaped him.

Fondness flickered in Agatha’s gaze.

“Caelyn,” she said more quietly now. “If you intend to go to her, then go.”

His pulse jolted hard. “You cannot mean that.”

“I very rarely say what I don’t mean. It wastes time. You know this.”

He stared at her. Hard. The storm roared beyond the abbey walls, or maybe that was his pulse in his ears.

“You’ll help me leave?” he asked.

Agatha seemed deeply annoyed by the question. Maybe even a bit offended. “I helped raise you, didn't I?”

Emotion hit him so unexpectedly beneath his ribs.

Agatha continued before he could object.

“The abbey is scheduled to receive one more caravan of merchants and winter supplies before the Frost moons closes the southern roads completely. Once it arrives, it will depart for Veylspire within the span carrying resonance equipment and two human scholars.” Her eyes narrowed. “You will exercise at least one intelligent thought before doing anything reckless if I arrange passage.”

Caelyn blinked once.

Passage.

North.

To her.

He was pretty certain lightning had just struck him in the chest with how painful it felt and how much hope was burning there.

Agatha pointed a warning finger at him right away. “Don’t make that face.”

“What face?” he asked.

“That tragic one!” she exclaimed. “Where you know what you want to do, but don’t know if you should do it because, while it sounds like a good idea, you also think you’ll fail. Stop thinking that way. Manifest optimism, Caelyn. Not failure.”

Guilt was clear in his expression. Agatha muttered something profane beneath her breath about young people before shuffling toward the corridor stairs.

But then she paused. Without turning around, Agatha said, “She has been waiting for you longer than either of you realizes.”

The hair along his arms and neck rose at those words.

Agatha glanced back over one shoulder, eyes seeming older than the currents.

“But Veylspire changes people,” she warned in a soft voice. “And the city is becoming dangerous in ways neither of you fully understand yet.”

Then she left.

The storm bells rang overhead as Caelyn looked once more toward Elowynn’s letter clenched tight in his hands.

Then he turned to view the northern gates.

Toward the direction of Veylspire.

Toward her, he decided.