Son of Saints: A Dark YA Fantasy Adventure: Renegade Guardians: Book Two

by Kyra Quinn

  Seth snickered. “If we are, I’m sure that isn’t the only reason. By that logic, every wealthy man in Astryae is a bad person. They have an abundance, but most of them did nothing to earn it.”

  She shrugged but didn’t lift her gaze. “Perhaps they are. I don’t know about you, but I’ve met few wealthy men I liked.”

  “I don’t know,” he admitted. “I’ve met few wealthy men living in Killara. We aren’t known for our sprawling estates or abundance of resources. Why do you think so many of the Fey live in clusters and groups?”

  Aster had never asked herself such a question, but it made perfect sense as Seth explained it. While Carramar had its share of beggars and vagrants, the cost of a room close to the city was often more than the cost of a private estate in smaller towns. People like Aster had the freedom to demand privacy and live off her talents. In Killara, where every day appeared to be a fight for survival, safety likely existed in numbers.

  Which only made Seth’s remote existence more intriguing.

  When the ship docked in Carramar, Aster’s body shook. She stumbled as she led Seth off the boat and into the streets of Carramar. Her body felt weak, as if she’d heaved most of her strength up over the side of the ship and into the ocean. Seth shot her the occasional worried glance, but he seemed to know better than to ask if she needed help.

  She gripped Seth’s icy hand and pulled him through the winding streets. A few late shoppers at the market arched a brow as they passed, but Aster paid them no mind. Snow crunched beneath their boots. Her heart and mind raced until she could keep up with neither. Lili’s name echoed through her thoughts. If anything happened to Lili because of Aster’s negligence, she didn’t know how she’d forgive herself.

  “This is it,” Aster said with a sweeping gesture as they approached the iron gate surrounding her home.

  Seth arched a thin brow as his cinnamon eyes swept over the row of buildings. “Charming.”

  She rolled her eyes and led Seth to the front door, her steps light despite the soreness of her legs after their long ride. She had spent much of her time away longing for the comfort of her home and friends.

  When she wrapped her hand around the door handle, however, an ominous feeling crept into her bones. Did Lili blame her for leaving and allowing her to fall ill? Where in the shadows had Morrigan taken off to? And how much did they both resent her for abandoning them?

  She pushed the door open as if it weighed five tons. She had hoped to find candles lit inside, but only darkness greeted her. A chilly draft drifted through the door as she stepped into the house.

  “Lili?” she called, and her voice shook.

  Only silence answered. Panic rose up the back of Aster’s throat as she called out for Lili once more. Seth stood behind her, his lips pressed into a tight line.

  “Perhaps she went out for a walk?”

  Aster shook her head. “She could hardly stand. There is no way she left on her own.”

  Seth’s eyes flickered to the doors and windows. “No obvious sign of forced entry. Is anything missing?”

  “Yes. The camphelem.”

  Aster stormed into her bedchamber with Seth hot on her heels. She dropped to her knees next to her bed and slid her arm under. It took a few seconds of grappling in the dark, but her hand closed around a stiff leather sheath. She pulled the sword out from under her bed and shoved it into Seth’s arms. She pushed past him and stormed back down the stairs.

  “Where are you going?” he shouted after her.

  “Where do you think? We must find her before anyone else does.”

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Awakened

  Many describe Ludas as the most elusive of the gods. While no mortals have laid eyes on him, all living things eventually encounter his influence.

  -The Sacred Texts, 196:52

  Physical sensation returned long before my eyes snapped open. Cold moisture penetrated my layers of clothing, and for the first time in my life I understood what it meant to be ‘chilled to the bone.’ My limbs felt frozen against the ground, as if I’d become one with the soil during my slumber. Tiny bumps covered every inch of my flesh. How long had I remained unconscious? It was a miracle the frost hadn’t stopped my heart.

  I opened my eyes to stare up at a starless sky. The sliver of silvery moonlight popped against the inky darkness above. Every inch of my body ached. I dug my palms into the snow and pushed myself up to sit with a groan of effort. My soaked shirt clung to my torso. I glanced around the empty field behind Aster’s building, grateful no one stumbled upon me during my impromptu rest.

  But the longer I sat upright, the woozier I became. Something wasn’t right. Everything hurt as if a steam train ran me over in my sleep. The right side of my head throbbed, the pain wrapping from my temple around to the back of my skull and neck. Nausea churned my stomach until acid burned my throat. My chest tightened with each breath, my body trembling.

  No, no. Not here. Not now. With everyone else gone, Astryae had no one else to protect them from my parents’ forces. What hope did Viktor or Remiel have if I didn’t save them from my mother? The world still needed me.

  Heat flooded my body despite the tiny white flecks of winter floating from the sky. A low whimper escaped my lips as my stomach muscles contracted. My thoughts swirled together until I could no longer make sense of them. After all the illnesses and ailments I had suffered over the years, I had never felt more ill. What was happening to me? Why did everything hurt?

  Paranoia crept into my dizzy thoughts. Why did the pain only appear after Morrigan left? Did she view my presence as a threat to her relationship with Aster? Had she poisoned the food or cursed me with some affliction to remove me from the picture?

  It seemed impossible; Morrigan was the sweet and sensitive side to Aster’s fiery boldness. I couldn’t imagine her lifting a finger to kill a fly, let alone someone she pretended to call a friend. She treated me with nothing but kindness and had done nothing but try to help me and Aster.

  Aster.

  Though I’d drifted off with Viktor burned into my thoughts, it was Aster’s face who sprang into my head. She smiled at me, her teeth bright and white as she whispered words of comfort next to her altar. Even without her stave, Aster had control over her powers I had yet to develop. She would know what to do, how to fix me.

  Unfortunately, I had little clue where she’d spirited off to. I often admired Aster’s mysterious aura and her aloof nature, but not with my life at risk. Alone with the bitter taste of terror filling the back of my throat, I couldn’t help but wish Aster had at least trusted me enough to confide her plan.

  Then again, she hadn’t said so much as goodbye to Morrigan, and their history as lovers stretched back farther than the short sprint of our friendship. Aster let no one in. She didn’t know how to ask for help, too afraid to expose her own vulnerability.

  Common sense suggested I check Aster’s altar and bedchamber for clues, the bookshelf or kitchen after. But I knew Aster well enough to realize there’d be nothing left. If she wanted her whereabouts to remain a secret, the sly little nerd would leave no evidence trail. That, and I possessed neither the patience nor energy to spend hours combing through the worn-out pages of her mountain of books.

  Instead I made my way towards the iron gate and out of Aster’s complex, my movements slow and exaggerated as if my limbs still hadn’t woken. Aster’s building was dark, most of the curtains drawn and candles extinguished. I had no idea what time of night it was, but I had little reason to care. The demons could kill me alone in Aster’s home far easier than on the busy streets of Carramar.

  * * *

  I wandered through the snowy streets, my eyes searching every window and sign for some trace of the sprightly blood mage. My gut told me I would find no trace of her nearby. With how reserved Aster was with her life and emotions, she’d never spend the night anywhere but her own bed unless her quest took her far from Carramar. If the coven summoned Morrigan, Aster had to have made
it at least as far north as Starbright since her departure.

  I shoved my hands in my pockets and willed myself to replicate Aster’s thoughts. Where did a rebellious blood mage go for aid before an apocalypse? With how little Aster trusted anyone, I had a difficult time picturing her opening up to anyone to ask for help. Not the coven, not if they were as upset with her as Morrigan led on. My mind raced through the various acquaintances of Aster I’d met or heard her mention in her stories. Blood mages, sirens, and demons all seemed to keep company with Aster or know of her reputation.

  But had she trusted any of the shadow monsters with her latest quest for self-destruction?

  My jaw clenched. Aster could have gone anywhere with any number of unsavory creatures. Someday her lifelong love for danger would get her killed. I had to hope it wouldn’t be soon.

  The bustling streets never slumbered, a stark contrast to the town I’d grown up in. A pitch-black sky hung overhead, only the gas lamps illuminating the dusty roads. The sea of people around me appeared indifferent to the time of night. Whores with breasts spilling from their ill-fitted gowns strolled feet away from women draped in silk and jewels. Everyone moved with a casual ease that made my own movements feel awkward and clumsy.

  I weaved through the crowd with my chin held high. Aster’s advice from my first week in Carramar lingered in the back of my mind. Behave as if you belong and no one will question if you do. It helped that I felt more at home in Carramar than I ever had in my father’s manor in Faomere.

  I had grown up in a home with ten times the space of Aster’s tiny flat, yet only a fraction of the laughter or warmth. Though Father had never given me cause to question his love for me, he never said the words aloud. He had stopped tucking me into bed on the night of my eighth birthday. Embraces or words of encouragement became a distant memory. Father purchased me the finest dresses and wisest tutors under the sun. Any material item my heart desired found its way into my hands with a sweet smile and well-timed, “Please, Daddy?” But emotional warmth? Father had known as much about that as I did about the magic in Astryae.

  Aster’s cozy little unit always seemed to overflow with conversation and laughter. No matter how hard we had trained for the day or how tired we were, Aster’s quick wit meant we never went too long without a moment of humor. Aster’s culinary skills left a lot to be desired, but the scent of her cooking or spells always filled the air like incense. We ate meals packed together at the small table in her kitchen, and everyone helped clean up after. At my lowest I’d always had Aster or Morrigan to talk to.

  Until now. I paused in the middle of the white street, my chest heavy. Tiny snowflakes fluttered from the onyx sky above. When a pair of women ogled me, I tilted my head up and busied myself with studying the hand-painted and carved signs over the sandstone buildings as if lost. Augusta’s Groceries. Boots & Shoes. Hembold’s Hattery. A tiny drugstore. Nowhere with any hope of finding Aster.

  Acutely aware of the strange glances my loitering was earning, I wrapped my arms around my waist and scurried into the crowd and further down the packed streets. I sucked in a deep breath, and for the first time since Morrigan left my lungs didn’t ache when I exhaled. I wiggled my fingers, the movements quick. Whatever affliction I’d suffered from before had vanished, my limbs strong. I straightened my spine and took inventory of my body, but nothing twitched or pulsed with pain. For the first time since Morrigan and Aster had taken their leave, I felt fine. Well, even.

  Someone cursed the house.

  I didn’t have enough knowledge of curses to know if such a thing was possible, but nothing else made sense. Less than an hour ago every part of my body hurt as if death itself might arrive at any moment. In the fresh air of Carramar, however, it was as if I’d never been ill.

  But the change in my condition didn’t change my mission. I had to find Aster. Whatever poison lurked in her walls might cause her more harm than it had me. I had never met a woman fiercer than Aster, but that didn’t make her invincible.

  I reached the other side of town without once stopping to search the inside of an establishment. Aster wasn’t in Carramar. I sensed it in my bones, as if someone had removed a piece of me and tucked it away in her bag. The trains had stopped running for the night. I had no idea how far the hike would be to the next town over. Or where.

  Come on, Lili, you giant coward. Giant fluttery wings are attached to your back. Use them and find Aster before it’s too late.

  A chill ran down my spine. Aster hadn’t allowed me to fly since my disastrous escape to Carramar from the Shadowrealm. She’d insisted I focus on my combat skills and academic studies, that flight and magic were dangerous and not for novices to attempt. I cursed her once more under my breath as I glanced over my shoulder at the streets full of people.

  If I wanted to find Aster, I’d have to fly. But not where so many witnesses might see me. To passives and Feyfolk, my wings were invisible. If I used them to lift me into the air, anyone without The Sight would only see a girl floating through the sky as if by magic.

  Aster’s voice popped into the back of my mind, urging me to leave Carramar on foot before I attempted anything else. It was the smarter move, but I didn’t have time to care about cleverness. Like a child separated from her mother on the crowded streets, my chest swelled with panic. I had to find Aster and tell her about the strange spell draining our health inside her house. Even if it meant a long-winded lecture about responsible use of my abilities, I needed her by my side.

  I all but ran through Carramar. The bitter cold burned my nose and face. My feet slid against the slick ground, but I didn’t pause until the bustle of Carramar sounded far away. With a final nervous glance over my shoulder, I squeezed my eyes shut and broke into a sprint. Feathers flapped against my back until my feet lifted from the ground. I gritted my teeth and urged myself to push harder, the weight of my body like an anchor tethered to my wings.

  Higher, higher I flew until the lights of Carramar turned into tiny pinpricks of color against the dark silhouette of Astraye. A surge of confidence swelled through me, and my chest puffed with pride. It might take time, but I’d find Aster just as I’d found Remiel.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  City of Gold

  Many think of Anja as the goddess of brotherhood, the harvest, and the natural world. She is also the goddess of the hunt, and Anja never misses her target.

  -The Sacred Texts, 312:19

  True to their word, Viktor and Jett rose before the sun to continue their trek to Wyvenmere. Neither of them spoke about the night before. Jett’s face appeared older under the milky sky, his features hollowed and tired. Tension lingered between them like storm clouds following overhead. He had no idea when Jett had returned to the room, or what he’d done in his time away. Each time Viktor opened his mouth to apologize, his words lodged in his throat as he wondered how many innocent passives Jett had slaughtered to ease his frustration.

  The further they hiked, the more Viktor questioned why anyone had built the royal palace in Wyvenmere of all places. The town had half the population of Carramar, a small majority of it dim-witted passives. The hillside scenery paled in comparison to some of the coastal towns or villages nestled between the northern mountains.

  The only explanation was the fertile soil and bountiful harvests. The surplus of crops had to give the King a strong bargaining chip when places like Carramar suffered a drought. Legend said Cimera herself had blessed the fields in Wyvenmere and Faircrow as a small reward to those who had followed the gods’ orders. While neighboring towns like Mulgrave still struggled to recover from the battles fought on their shores, devastation never seemed to reach the noble estates in Wyvenmere.

  The icy tundra far behind them, short blades of yellowed grass crunched beneath his boots. Verdant meadows surrounded them, the terrain rugged and wild. Puffy white clouds floated through a crystal blue sky above. Viktor tried to admire the gentle roll of the lush green hills, but he still missed listening to the waves crash
against the rocks in Mulgrave. He never thought he’d find himself homesick for a place he’d viewed as a prison for decades.

  Jett paused and tilted his head. “We’re close. We should reach the castle walls by nightfall.”

  Viktor froze by his side and sucked in a breath as he waited for his primal senses to kick in. The blistering sun overhead burned against the back of his neck, indifferent to the frigid winds and frost. His throat burned, the thirst dulling his senses more than he liked. If he didn’t feed soon, he’d be as useless as a mortal man.

  He puffed his chest, careful to conceal any signs of weakness. “So we are. Do you have a plan for when we arrive?”

  Jett tapped the rounded bulge in his pocket. “Don’t need a plan. Not with this baby.”

  “Right, the magical egg. Can’t forget about that.”

  Jett marched forward, his lack of amusement obvious. “Keep it up and I’ll abandon you at the castle gates.”

  Viktor chuckled as Jett’s empty threat rolled off him like raindrops. “Feel free. I’d rather chew my leg off than kiss up to the aristocracy.”

  “Flattery will do you no favors in the King’s Court. No one will care what we have to say unless we can prove the advantages of listening.”

  “And the egg is our advantage?” Viktor arched a brow. “This will never work.”

  “It has to work. We have little else to offer King Dyius, not to mention the Nephilim we murdered. If he refuses to grant us audience, Astryae will fall.”

  Viktor clenched his jaw. “Most of the King’s Guard are passives. Astryae will fall even with their full might behind us if we don’t pull off some miracle.”

  “That is no excuse to roll over and surrender. You know the stakes, Viktor.”

  His face warmed. He didn’t need Jett or anyone else to remind him what they had to lose. The image of burned and mutilated bodies littering the streets haunted his thoughts any time he allowed himself rest. Sometimes he pictured Lili or Remiel’s faces buried in the pile of corpses. Everyone and everything he had ever cared for depended on him to save them. The unspoken responsibility was enough weight on his shoulders to break his back, but he soldiered on. He had to.