Where Dreams Descend - Janella Angeles Page 0,135

broken pieces of his partnership. It was her job, after all. To find the loud in the quiet, unearth the chaos in the peace.

“What, so you can write another story about it?”

“And crush the dreams of my readers rooting for you two?” There was a mischievous twinkle in her eye. “Join me. It’s the least you could do since you’ve returned all my letters rudely unread over the years. If anyone in this room has the right to be agitated, it should be me.”

Daron scratched the back of his neck. “Can you blame me, Lottie? I needed time.”

“I needed time, too, but I didn’t go dark on the world to get it,” she said.

“No, you chose to spin stories for your own gain, for the people. As you always do.”

She barely flinched, staring hard. “That’s my job, Daron. And it’s what Eva would’ve wanted—”

“Don’t.” He shook at the scalding rise in his blood. “You don’t know what she would’ve wanted. She’d never want to be headline news like that.”

“Clearly it’s what you wanted, too, since you didn’t fight me on it. You didn’t do anything.”

Do something. Do anything.

Blame. Fresh and sharp as it had been that night, when she’d thrown it in his face.

“Despite what you think of me, I’m looking for answers. I’m still looking for them.” Lottie slammed her book shut. “I don’t know what you’ve been doing since she’s been gone, but I thought maybe you’d be looking, too. Especially when I heard that, of all places, you ended up here.”

He crossed his arms. “What I’m doing here is none of your concern.”

“It is if it concerns her.” She took off her glasses, as if to ensure every dagger she glared his way aimed true. “I’m not oblivious. Why else would you go out of your way to judge a small circus show like this? In Glorian, of all places, which we know—”

“Is only a dead end,” he finished. “There’s nothing here of interest to you. You should go, while you still can.”

“You can’t be serious. Dead end or not, there’s something not right about this city, and you know it.” She gave a slight shudder. “It’s too quiet.”

“What did you expect from a town that’s been reclusive for decades? It’s no New Crown.”

“Certainly not.” Lottie huffed, setting her books aside. “You mean you don’t find it strange, how the people here act like there is no past—how they know nothing about what goes on beyond their gates? How their buildings are modeled after symbols of families no one really talks about?” she posed, before gesturing roughly at the small library. “How this is all the history they preserved for a city that’s stood just as long as all the other cities in Soltair?”

It was Daron’s turn to shudder. He’d allowed himself to forget the strangeness, living here long enough to accept unanswered questions as one of Glorian’s quirks.

Or perhaps he’d forgotten to question altogether. So distracted, so selfish. Lost in a dream he’d only just woken from.

“What are you suggesting?” Daron asked. “Another conspiracy theory to add to the pile?”

“For Zarose sake, you and the others can’t even leave the city. Nothing is too unbelievable to be true … at this point.” She paused, tracing her fingernail up and down the wrinkled spine of a book. “It would be easier if we worked together.”

He kept quiet. If the written word was Lottie’s weapon, silence was his.

“We need closure. We wouldn’t both be here if we didn’t,” she insisted. “Tell me what you know, your side of the story, and we could piece everything together. It’s what she would’ve—”

“Don’t use her to manipulate me,” he bit out. “I won’t give you more material for your next piece.”

“That’s not what this is about,” she whispered. “She was my friend.”

“Yes, and just like then, I still can’t trust you.”

Her nostrils flared. Her fingers tapped along the surface, by her pen, as if fighting the urge to write. “Fine. But I’m not the only one in the wrong here. You are just as much to blame for how things unfolded, and if it comes to it, I’ll fill in the pieces on my own.”

Daron’s face grew hot. “What are you talking about?”

“You didn’t leave the business simply because of good ol’ loss and heartache, did you?”

Everything in him stopped cold.

Her gaze contained more than curiosity. There was certainty.

“People who leave always have something to hide,” she said, donning her glasses to return to her reading. “And before those secrets start

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