by Kyra Quinn
It took every ounce of self-control I had not to glance down at the world below us. One peek at how far up the pegasi had taken us, how tiny the distance caused the nations of Astryae to appear, had left my head woozy. Seth’s beasts could fly higher than I’d ever dreamed of venturing on my own. Vast, endless dark oceans stretched around the pocket-sized parcels of land. For a split second, I debated asking Aster how many species of monster called the water’s depths home.
When the initial shock wore off, Viktor sprang into my thoughts once more. How had he ended up at the palace in Wyvenmere? Had he found a way to save Remiel from the Shadowrealm? Or had he abandoned hope and sought a new adventure? My chest tightened as if I’d laced up a new corset.
Aster squealed, jerking her arm up to gesture ahead. “Over there! We made it!”
I squinted into the distance, the thick clouds of fog obscuring my vision. How had we reached the palace so soon? We had mounted the mares a short time ago. While I hated every moment spent on the back of the pegasi, the presence of the massive winged beasts had given the impression we had a great distance to cross and little time.
The pegasi dipped out of the clouds and dove towards the ground. I whimpered, but Aster cackled with delight. A few feet away, Seth flashed an easy grin and guided his creature towards the ground with gentle strokes of his fur and soft whispers into his ear.
When the pegasi had almost reached the ground, the fog thinned. We collided against the snowy soil with a thud. The impact bounced our bodies a few inches from the mare’s back. Aster’s manic laughter continued. Wild strands of hair flew out of the messy braid down her back, her cloak crooked on her shoulders.
“That. Was. Incredible,” she gushed, her amber eyes twinkling. “The experience is more magical with every ride.”
Seth, who had managed a smoother landing in the snow a few feet to our right, smirked and dusted the sleeves of his coat. “I told you to give Fayde a fair chance. Pegasi aren’t used much for travel since the invention of the steam train, but it’s a damn shame. They’re much faster and more efficient.”
“Do they have steam trains where you come from?” Aster teased with a wink.
I cleared my throat, my hand locked on my hip. “I hate to interrupt, but Viktor is still locked in a cell awaiting his executioner. We can sit around Aster’s table and chat over a bottle of ambrosia when this is all over, but we need to remain focused.”
No one disagreed, and we set about finding a safe location to stash the pegasi until our return. Aster and Seth might have adored the eerie mares, but no one at the palace would share their sentiments. Aster held Fayde’s reigns as we marched them through the thin forest outside of Wyvenmere. Unlike the dead woods of Carramar, lush green trees and foliage surrounded us. Seth stopped after a short hike and signaled for us to wait. He leaned forward and leaned his head against Cinder’s. His lips moved as he whispered something into the mare’s ear, his voice too low to decipher.
“The pegasi will wait for us here,” he said, rubbing Cinder between the ears.
“What if someone spots them?” I asked, wrapping my arms around myself for warmth. “Or what if they break out?”
Aster shook her head. “Pray for the best, I suppose. There’s no time for much else if we wish to save Viktor.”
I clenched my teeth, out-argued but unwilling to admit it. Viktor’s face sprang into my mind. His copper eyes sparkled in the candlelight as he leaned forward and pushed a fallen strand of hair from my face. I shivered, almost able to feel his touch after weeks apart. The queen couldn’t kill him. Not yet. We’d stand a much better chance at stopping the end of days with Viktor at our side.
“Fine,” I grumbled. “If you trust them to wait, I’ll take you at your word.” We didn’t have time to bicker about better alternatives. If anything happened to Viktor, all hope of saving Astryae was lost.
* * *
We completed the rest of the trek to the castle on foot, the insides of my thighs still sore from the ride to Wyvenmere. No one traded banter or attempted to strike up a conversation. We marched up to the massive stone castle with a sense of purpose, our movements tense and coordinated.
I had never laid eyes on a castle outside of storybooks. Though some of father’s business associates in Faomere had inherited considerable estates, they all paled in comparison to the ancient structure in front of me. A thick trail of fog surrounded the stone base, giving it the appearance of a castle hidden in the clouds. Two uniformed guards stood in front of the gate. Steel helmets hid their faces, their bodies cloaked in matching armor.
My throat tightened. “I doubt those two will let us in without a struggle.”
Seth flashed a charming smile and winked. “Leave that part to me, love.”
He shoved his way in front of us and strolled towards the guards with his head held high. I reached out to grab his arm and stop him, but Aster slapped my hand away. “Let him work his magic,” she said. “It’s the best chance we have of getting in there without killing anyone.”
If these people hurt a hair on Viktor’s head, I’ll kill them all. A year ago, such a dark thought would have twisted my stomach and tormented me. Now, however, it stood out as nothing more than a cold fact. I had powers that could bring the strongest Fey in Astryae to their knees, and I had already lost almost everyone I had ever cared for. I refused to let a castle full of divine dicks take anyone else from me.
I shot a glance up at the sky and prayed the early evening darkness might linger long enough for us to reach Viktor. Various ways to murder the royals if we failed looped through my thoughts. We hung back and watched Seth speak to the stone-faced guards at the gate, their conversation inaudible from our distance. My heart raced as I waited for one of the soldiers to reach for a sword and strike him down. Where had Aster found a man as mad as her? Had she cast some sort of spell over him in our time apart?
A few moments later, one of the guards marched off through the gate in the direction of the castle doors. My glass heart shattered beneath my ribs. My knees wobbled, my limbs weak. Seth’s cunning tricks had failed. I moved to tell Aster we need to rescue the poor boy, but he spun on his heels and strolled over to us with a toothy grin.
“The people here are so much more polite than Killara,” he said. “Hardly gave me any trouble. The entire royal family is here. One of the guards has gone to fetch one of their personal servants to greet us.”
“How?” I asked, smoke trailing from my sore and chapped lips.
Seth’s smile stretched until his entire face glowed with pride. “As I said, love, I’m the best at what I do.”
“Don’t let him fool you.” Aster rolled her eyes. “His talents are useless in a fight.”
Before I had time to question him further, the guard from the gate returned with a woman in tow almost the same height and broad build as Viktor. Her features were sharp enough to cut glass. She wore a suit of sleek black armor much nicer than the other guards, her silvery hair tied into an intricate mess of braids pinned behind her.
The color drained from Aster’s face. “Impossible.”
My skin went cold. “What is it?”
“That’s—she’s—”
“I take it you are gifted with the Sight,” the woman said as she neared where we stood. Her voice sounded softer than I had expected, though her tone possessed the cold edge I’d come to associate with seasoned warriors.
Aster’s mouth opened and closed. A series of disjointed syllables and sounds crossed her lips, but nothing intelligible. For the first time since the day I’d met her in the streets of Carramar, Aster was speechless.
“She’s a blood mage,” Seth confirmed for her, his charming smile once more locked into place. “And apparently a fan of yours. Are you the King’s guard?”
The woman’s chest swelled with pride. “I am Zorya Eveningstar, yes. Is your companion all right?”
“Pay her no mind,” Seth said with a chuckle. “We’ve come to speak with you about a friend of
ours we think might have come to visit the castle. Lili?”
All eyes turned to me. My tongue turned to cement inside my mouth. The thoughts that raced through my head seconds before had spilled onto the ground and rolled away like marbles. Why was I suddenly as speechless as Aster? I didn’t recognize the woman in front of me from any other soldier.
“Lili?” Seth urged.
“Right,” I said, exhaling a breath I hadn’t intended to hold. My voice wavered as I spoke. “We’re searching for a man—well, a Fey—by the name of Viktor Kinzhal. He has shaggy dark hair, stands about this tall—”
“Kinzhal?” Zorya’s eyes flashed with something I didn’t recognize. “He never made mention of his full name, but I know of the shapeshifters. He arrived in town on the night of the Festival of a Thousand Faces.”
Seth’s face brightened. He clapped his hands in front of his chest. “Splendid! Is there any chance you might tell us where we can find him? The girls here had themselves worried sick.”
Zorya frowned. “The dungeons. Viktor and Jett entered a dukaz with the royal family, and they failed. The punishment is death.”
“Death?” Aster squeaked, her voice finally returned. “Over a bet gone wrong? That doesn’t strike anyone else as extreme?”
The soldier shrugged. “Where you’re from, perhaps. Here, it’s tradition. And the shifters knew the terms of the dukaz when they accepted. No one forced this fate on them but their own arrogance.”
“There must be something we can do,” I said, blinking back tears. “The war is going to break out soon, and the world needs Viktor defending it.”
A muffled groan escaped her closed lips. “He has shared his theories about a war with you?”
I tilted my head and locked eyes with her, unintimidated by her massive sword or what position she held with the royal court. “Look closer. I’m the reason the angels want to burn this planet to ash.”
“You?” she blinked. “Why—”
“Because,” Seth said, his smile returned, “don’t you recognize her? She’s the camphelem.”
* * *
Zorya led us through a maze of narrow hallways and dark corridors. Her armor clacked with every step. We passed dozens of candles, but the soldier didn’t slow her stride enough to light one of them. Tiny particles of dust danced in the air around us as we followed behind Zorya. A bitter taste flooded my mouth. Why did anyone need so much space if they only had use for half of it?
I stayed as close to Aster as I could manage without invading her personal space—not that the passageways left much other choice. I had spent little time wondering what the inside of a palace looked like as a child, but I’d never imagined it so cold and empty. Spiderwebs hung from the corners of the walls. Dust lined the elegant frames holding the artwork along the walls.
“You all right?” I asked Aster. “You all but drooled on her boots back there.”
Aster stiffened. “I did no such thing. Besides, don’t you know who she is?”
I shook my head.
“I can hear you,” Zorya said, her tone sharp. “But I’m surprised you know who I am, mage. My work is done in the shadows, and time has all but forgotten me for it. Possibly for the best. I’d rather labor in obscurity than ever drag another soul to the Shadowrealm.”
“Not everyone has forgotten. The coven I grew up in tells the story of you and your sister as a bedtime story from the time we’re young. But...I always assumed our coven invented the legend. I never imagined a day might come where I had the chance to meet you in the flesh.”
Zorya’s face remained fixed forward, but the slight quiver in her voice betrayed her anger. “I try not to think of those days. Or her. You would, too, if something as simple as a coin toss had ruined your entire life. Heed my words, traveler. All magic has a price, and the only magic with a higher price than your own blood magic is the death magic I deal in.”
My eyes widened. “A necromancer?”
“No,” Aster said, her voice breathy. “Zorya Eveningstar and her twin sister Zorya Morningstar are otherwise worshiped as the Mors.”
My lips twisted into a frown. “We both know I have no idea what that means.”
“Do you know what soul reapers are? Angels of death?” Seth asked, glaring at Zorya’s back.
I nodded.
“Think of them as highly powerful reapers. The Mors are said to personify war and death in its finest forms. They oversee battles and escort the souls of the fallen to their final resting place.”
Zorya gave a grunt of disagreement. “The work soul reapers do is time consuming and far below our skillset.” Her mouth twisted as if debating how much she wished to share. After a tense moment of silence, she sighed. “My sister and I contracted a bad case of crimson plague as small girls. Our fevers rose until we slipped into an unshakable slumber. The local doctor paid us a visit and told our mother to say her goodbyes. He assured her only Cimera could save us. But my mother wasn’t one to take no for an answer, and she found a way to rid us of our affliction and save our lives. But, as they say, all magic comes at a price. In our case, it cost my mother her life and our souls.”
“I-I’m sorry,” I said, unsure how else to respond. A deep shame coursed through me when I thought of my own self-pity and the way I’d allowed myself to wallow in my own personal tragedies. “Is your sister here, too?”
Zorya barked a bitter laugh and resumed her march. “No. She hasn’t set foot in Astryae in over three decades now. People don’t die with honor the way they used to.”
We made it a few more feet down the hall before an excited squeal from behind drove a spike of panic into my chest. I whirled around to find an ancient woman shorter than Aster behind me. Wrinkles covered the stretched and saggy skin of her face, but her pale eyes glistened with excitement like a child given a present. She clapped her hands together and beamed, her teeth browned and chipped.
“I predict almost everything to happen in this palace, but I never saw you coming. Zorya, you must let me greet our new visitors,” she said, her voice dry and raspy as she pointed at us.
Zorya frowned, and her nose wrinkled as she shot a look of pure poison the old woman’s direction. “Not until they speak with King Dyius. They’re here about one of the shifters.”
“We’d love to save both, if possible,” Aster corrected. “We don’t know Jett as well, but Viktor trusts him. That’s enough to convince me he’s a man of honor.”
“The shifters!” the woman said, her body all but vibrating. She bounced on her heels. “Of course, of course! Everything is so clear. How could I have missed this before?”
“Save it, Hemani.” The soldier held up a hand and continued her strut down the dim corridor. “The Queen plans to execute the wolves at dawn.”
“But—”
Zorya dismissed her with a wave of her hand over her shoulder. We scurried to catch up to her, the woman’s eerie grin still etched into my thoughts. What did she know about the shifters? Could she help save Viktor?
Zorya reached the end of the hall and threw a set of massive solid gold doors open as if they weighed nothing. Light spilled out from the open doorway. I squinted and tried to peek inside, my heart racing. Zorya held her palm open and gestured for us to enter. “Welcome to the palace, travelers. The King and Queen will speak with you now.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Girl of Shadow and Stars
Those with souls corrupted by shadows and darkness shall find themselves at Zanox’s mercy for eternity.
-The Sacred Texts, 13:37
“So the rumors of the camphelem’s existence are true. You three strike me as the personification of calamity.” The King lounged with his back slumped against his cushioned gold throne, his legs draped over the arm. His silver crown drooped to the side as if too heavy for his head. His cheeks were flushed, his pale eyes bloodshot as he glared at us with open disgust.
Wide rectangular windows stood behind the King’s throne overlooking a lush garden despite t
he thin layer of white powder smothering the green until spring. A curved staircase elevated the thrones from the rest of the room. Two marble lions stood guard on either side of the staircase, their fangs bared and ready to protect whoever sat on the thrones. The sky above us darkened as the afternoon faded into the early evening hours. I glanced down at the geometric shape of the marble tiles beneath our feet. A weight sat on my chest until each breath required great effort.
“Zorya tells us you wish to speak with us about the shifters,” the woman standing in front of the smaller throne next to the King said, glancing down at the rounded tips of her glossy nails. A younger man in a navy robe stood behind her, his expression blank. “I’m not surprised they’ve mixed up in such questionable company.”
Everything about the Queen posed a stark contrast to her husband. Where the King’s glassy eyes made me wonder how much he’d had to drink before our arrival, Queen Moara’s posture as elegant and composed as the sequined sapphire gown fitted against her tall, lean body. Every hair on her head was tucked into an elaborate twist, not a single strand out of place. When she spoke, her voice carried the authority to spark fear in the hearts of men.
“Your Majesty, Viktor is a dear friend of ours—” Aster started.
The Queen silenced her with a wave of her hand. “Your feelings or personal relationship with the victim are irrelevant in this discussion. Both men understood the terms, and they were warned how low their chances of success were. They allowed their pride to influence their decision, and it led them to their ruin.”
My heart fluttered. I wanted to pretend I had no idea what the woman meant. Viktor had spent years living in the shadows of society with Remiel. From what little I’d witnessed, he kept his head down and worked without complaint or need for praise. He had insecurities like any other man, but he masked them with humor and combat prowess rather than indulging in self-pity. His imperfections aside, Viktor was a good man with a kind, gentle heart.
But I had spent enough time in his company to know how high Viktor had built up his defenses over the years. His softer side remained hidden away behind walls not even a spider could scale. No one would believe me if I tried to explain his kindhearted nature. They had only interacted with the side of Viktor’s personality crafted to keep prying eyes away.