Catching Stars

by Cayla Keenan

  "So what’s your plan?" Maerta asked and Jayin directed her attention back to her. How very typical. Even rendered powerless she tried to act like she was in control. "There’s nowhere we won’t find you."

  Jayin didn’t answer, stretching her arm out and clenching her hand into a first. Maerta choked, going to her knees and Jayin could feel her aura weaken and her heart started to give out.

  "Enjoy the Dark," Jayin said coldly.

  "Very impressive," said a new voice and Jayin jumped so violently she released Maerta. No.

  "Jayin," Maddix whispered. It was a question and a comfort, but Jayin could hardly keep herself from screaming. It was over.

  "Don’t look at him," Jayin whispered, her voice shaking so hard the words barely came out. "Whatever you do, don’t look at him." She steeled herself the best she could, positioning herself in front of Maddix before turning to face the Kingswitch.

  He hadn’t changed. Like the Palace, the Kingswitch remained untouched. He was as striking as ever, with his crimson robes and golden hair. The small smile he used to reserve just for her was fixed on his lips. Stars, Jayin used to love that smile. Now the sight of him made dread coil in her heart.

  "Elias," she said, forcing her face into the impassive mask of the Gulwitch. She longed for her glamor, but was already using too much magic as it was. Any more and something would give out.

  The smile only widened, the scar on his lip stretching, and his bottle-green eyes crinkled in the corners. He’d once called her impertinent, and Jayin knew that she was the only one bold enough to call him by his given name.

  "Is that really how you address your father after all this time?"

  Jayin felt Maddix stiffen beside her but she forced him from her mind. She couldn’t waver, not now.

  "Sir," Maerta started but the Kingswitch raised a hand and she fell silent. Jayin didn’t bother reaching for her again, instead conserving her magic. She would need all of it.

  "You look different," the Kingswitch said. His eyes—her eyes, too, the ones he’d given her—roamed over her. Jayin had to fight to keep from shivering under his probing gaze. "I hardly recognized you."

  That was the point, Jayin thought bitterly. If only it had worked.

  “And stars above, what have you done to your lovely hair?”

  “Sir,” Maerta said more insistently, piqued that her attempted murder was going unanswered. How she hated not to be the center of attention.

  “You have new scars, my daughter,” the Kingswitch said, frowning as he looked her over.

  “You can thank darling Maerta for that,” Jayin said, surprised and gratified to see the tiniest bit of surprise in his eyes before it vanished as quickly as it had come. “Or did you not know that she turned me over to the sahirla to be killed?”

  For a single, ridiculous moment, Jayin felt like a child tattling to her father for being bullied in the schoolyard. She almost regretted the admission as the Kingswitch rounded on Maerta. His pupils expanded, swallowing the green of his irises until there was nothing left but black.

  Jayin wanted to shout for him to stop, she wanted to look away, but she was frozen in place, helpless to do anything but watch. The magic in the air was so powerful it was nearly tangible as the Kingswitch speared Maerta with his gaze. There was a single moment of resistance before oily blackness began to spread over her aura like a stain. The Kingswitch held steady, and Maerta’s body moved stiffly, out of her control. Electricity crackled in the air, gathering in her palms, and Maerta pressed a hand over her heart.

  “No!” Jayin shouted for no other reason than she couldn’t bear to watch.

  There was a single burst of violent energy and then nothing. The woman crumpled without a sound and Jayin didn’t need her magic to know that Maerta was dead.

  “How—?” Maddix whispered behind her and Jayin shook her head. The less attention on them, the better.

  “With all this excitement I think I forgot to introduce myself to your friend,” the Kingswitch said pleasantly, turning back to them like he hadn’t just forced his lieutenant to kill herself. His eyes had lost the black tint but Jayin knew that it lurked under the surface, ready to be unleashed at any moment.

  “We’re leaving,” Jayin said. With Maerta gone, this was their best chance, but even then it wasn’t good. “Now.”

  “But you just got back,” the Kingswitch said, sounding disappointed, almost chiding. “And I have missed you, Jayin.”

  She couldn’t say the same. She’d spent all this time trying to get away from him and his nest of vipers. Jayin had left because she couldn’t bear her father’s atrocities and now all she wanted was to get Maddix out in one piece.

  “And Maddix Kell,” he said. “How I have longed to meet you.”

  Maddix went still and something flickered on his face.

  “Run,” Jayin hissed. “Maddix, run!” She didn’t wait for a response, stepping out of the protection of Maddix’s shield and throwing every bit of her magic at the Kingswitch. The world narrowed to just the two of them as Jayin reached for his aura with both hands.

  The world blurred away, and all Jayin knew was the energy in her second sight. The Kingswitch’s aura was black and corrosive, like something long dead and rotting. She snarled as she came in contact with it, pain vibrating up her arms as she tried to wrestle for control. His energy was oil on water, slipping away before she could get enough of a grip to rip him apart. Somehow, he was resisting her, using his energy to fight and her strength ebbed away with every moment that passed.

  “It’s a good trick.” His voice echoed in her mind and she knew that he hadn’t spoken the words aloud. “But I have a better one.”

  The world shifted and her father’s Dark aura stepped from her second sight into reality. Jayin’s focused slipped and her vision returned in full, terrible color. She couldn’t control him; she wasn’t strong enough.

  Maddix. Jayin’s thoughts immediately turned to him, searching him out. He hadn’t made it out of the viewing chamber. Instead he stood a few paces away from her, the silver shield flickering around him. Naked horror was written across his face as he took in the monster her father had become.

  For so long, Jayin had only guessed at the Kingswitch’s abilities. He never did magic in front of the other Palace sahir, but his power was unparalleled. She knew that even as a child with only the loosest grip on her own magic. After years of asking for even the smallest of demonstrations and getting nothing for her efforts, Jayin assumed—like most of Ayrie—he was some kind of mindwitch. It was the best explanation and the only one they were likely to get.

  Until Jayin had decided to discover it for herself. She brought him a fleeing criminal, presenting him before the court as she always had, knowing that the convict would be left with the Kingswitch before his sentencing. This one was special. Her father had asked for him personally. Jayin hadn’t even bothered discovering his crime; the Kingswitch’s word was enough for her.

  Stars, she’d thought herself so clever, spinning a glamor so tight she didn’t think anyone would be able to see it, not even him. She stood in the shadows and watched as her father’s skin split into a swirling, Dark manifestation of the blackest magic she’d ever seen. The criminal had cowered and cried but it hadn’t done any good. When he didn’t answer the Kingswitch’s questions to satisfaction, the man’s body was turned against itself.

  “Shall I have him cut off his hand?” the Kingswitch had called to her. “What do you think, Jayin? Does that punishment fit the crime?”

  Jayin hadn’t been able to say a word, fleeing with the man’s frantic pleas for help ringing out behind her. She’d vomited into an ancient decorative urn, trying to convince herself that what she’d seen was some kind of illusion, a trick, a test. Anything but the truth.

  No matter how she turned over the memories in her mind, there was no doubt that what she saw was real. Her father had tortured a man and laughed all the while. He’d asked her to weigh in on what kind of punishme
nt to inflict next, as if it was some kind of grotesque bonding ritual.

  She couldn’t escape the sounds of the man’s screams, nor the way his energy seemed to adhere to her. She felt his pain as his hands were turned against himself, clawing at his own skin, pulling out his fingernails, and even gouging out one of his eyeballs.

  Jayin shrieked herself hoarse, and out of the man’s remaining eye, she could see the Dark monster cackling with glee all the while. His red eyes held nothing but joyful malice until finally, the man choked himself to death.

  That night, her own throat still burning, Jayin began planning her escape.

  “It’s him,” Maddix managed, his voice all but gone. Her own horror was reflected in his eyes. The silver glow died altogether as panic overtook him. “It’s him.”

  Jayin didn’t think, spinning and throwing two of her straightblades with all her strength. It was the last trick she had, and her heart twisted as the knives passed through the Dark figure like he was composed of so much smoke and mist.

  “Don’t look at him!” Jayin said, sensing magic in the air. Under the hood, eyes glowed red and the smallest sound from Maddix told her that it was already too late.

  “Jayin,” he whispered and Jayin turned to see him raising the knife she’d given him, pressing the tip of the blade into the center of his chest. “Jayin, I—” he said before his voice choked off. His arms shook as he tried to fight, but the Kingswitch’s magic was too strong.

  “Stop,” Jayin said desperately. Already, she could see blood staining through Maddix’s shirt. “Stop it, you skyforsaken monster!”

  If Maddix pressed the blade any deeper, he was going to puncture his heart.

  “And why would I do that?” the Kingswitch asked. The Dark form was gone, replaced by the golden persona he presented to the word, but his eyes were still flatly black. Maddix’s arm stilled but blood rushed down his front and his skin was draining of color.

  “I’ll stay,” Jayin said, the words burning in her mouth. “I’ll stay with you, just let him go.”

  “No, I don’t think so,” the Kingswitch said, smiling serenely. Green took over the black of his eyes and Maddix collapsed. Jayin twitched, fighting the urge to run to Maddix’s side. “He’s alive, Jayin. And he’ll stay that way as long as you cooperate.”

  I’ll see you burn for this, Jayin thought, tearing her gaze off of Maddix’s prone form and forcing herself to look at her father. Jayin used to think he hung the moon. He’d rescued her from the orphanage, taught her that she had magic, a purpose, a home. For so long, she didn’t think she would ever want anything more than that. Then the Kingswitch revealed to her parentage.

  “I have enemies, Jayin,” he’d said when she started to ask questions. “If they ever knew that you existed, it would put you in danger. It would put both of us in danger. I did what I could to keep you safe.”

  Jayin had swallowed the answer without complaint then, but now she knew better. She wasn’t sure why he finally sought her out all those years ago but she had no doubt that it was to advance his own power. He didn’t give a damn about her. He never had.

  “I have terms,” Jayin said as steadily as she could manage. She had no more tricks, no chips to cash in. She was in no place to negotiate and they both knew it. But Jayin also knew that he liked to pretend that she was the obedient Ayrie pet, the prodigal daughter who might someday take on his blood-soaked mantle. He would hear her demands.

  “What would those be?” he asked indulgently, inclining his head.

  “The witchlings,” Jayin said. “In the Gull. You don’t touch them.”

  “You know that we don’t interfere with the rabble,” he replied before pausing. He tapped his finger on his chin thoughtfully. “But I suppose that I can make an exception. The children will not be harmed.”

  “There’s a girl with them,” Jayin went on while she still had momentum. “She’s sick. You have to help her. Without bringing her here.”

  Maia didn’t stand a chance without the healers in the Palace, but Jayin wasn’t willing to let what happened to Om repeat itself with Maia. She would never step foot in Ayrie Palace, not if Jayin had anything to say about it.

  “We will do what we can,” the Kingswitch said. “Anything else?” He was mocking her, but Jayin pressed on.

  “Maddix,” she started but he held up a hand.

  “I’m sorry, my girl, but I’ve been looking for your friend for far too long to let him go now. But he will remain here. As long as you behave, no harm will come to him, you have my word on that. Are we agreed?”

  Far from it, but Jayin didn’t have any choice but to nod her reluctant assent.

  “Agreed,” she whispered. Her voice echoed in the viewing chamber and the enormous room seemed to close in on her like a tomb. The Kingswitch descended from the dais and Jayin had to duck her head to keep him from seeing the disgust twisting her features. He laid a hand on her shoulder and it was everything she could do to keep from flinching.

  “Then it’s settled,” he said, his voice filled with a revoltingly parental kind of pride. “I’ve missed you Jayin. You’re home now.”

  This is not my home. The words danced on the tip of her tongue but she swallowed them. Home was Ravi and the witchlings, the open sky above her when she slept on the roof of her building, and blue-gray eyes that had seen too much but still shone with hope and laughter.

  Right now, Jayin was behind enemy lines and all she could do was keep her mouth shut and bide her time. Because she had to keep her home safe, she had to keep them safe.

  She would stay. For now. She would play courtier and bide her strength. And then, when her father and his hellish court least expected it, she was going to burn them to the ground.

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  This book has been a piece of my heart since that fateful day in philosophy class where Jayin and Maddix popped into my head and demanded that I tell their story. So let me take this moment to thank the people who made this weird little book about witches and murder and runaways possible.

  First and foremost, thank you to Ben Alderson. I cannot thank you enough for plucking me from PitMad obscurity and turning my dream into a reality. Publisher, marketing wizard, friend, they don’t get any better than you. I know that you’ve always got my back and will be there to hold my hand through the publishing process. Thank you for guiding me every step of the way and answering my many, many, many questions. You’re a prince among men, Ben.

  To Olivia Watkins, thank you for all your hard work whipping my manuscript into shape. Your tireless work and amazing feedback made revisions fun, even when we had to kill a few darlings. I am so lucky to have worked with an editor who loves this story as much as I do.

  Jo Painter, who designed the amazing cover (which myself and my entire family have printed on countless articles of clothing), and Claire Lucas, who worked with me on all of the interior design. You are both phenomenal artists and I am so grateful to have been able to work with you. (Even when I was finicky and particular about the title font.) I can’t wait to see what we do for the rest of the series!

  To everyone who preordered this book ahead of its publication with Oftomes, thank you. Thank you for taking a chance on a twenty-year-old idiot with a dream. Thank you for supporting me through a change of publisher and an extra year of waiting. Thank you, thank you, thank you.

  To the beta readers who made this book possible: Rachel, Michelle, Leslie, and Prags, you guys are amazing. Thank you for giving me much needed moral support and cheerleading when I desperately needed it.

  Thank you to the best roommates and friends a girl could ask for: Eileen, Checka, and Bethany (you basically live with us, it counts). Thank you for always supporting me even when I vanish into my room for hours on end, and always having Spongebob episodes and Buzzfeed quizzes ready for when I emerge. Eileen – the fact that we made it through sophomore year without killing each other is proof we were meant to be friends. Checka – never stop loving One Direction,
Grey’s Anatomy, and Donut Delight. Viva italia! Bethany – you are the single most brilliant person I know and you are going to absolutely slay in med school. I can’t imagine my Fordham experience without you guys and I am so lucky to have you in my life.

  To Dylan, my guy, my #1 fan, and the self-proclaimed president of my fanclub: Meeting you was a one-in-a-billion chance, but I am so glad we did. You are so important to me and I love you with every bit of my heart. Even if you are the world’s biggest weeb.

  Megan. You have been my best friend since the second grade and I am so glad you marched into my life that day on the playground. We have been together for all the highs and lows, through years of heartbreak, midnight drives, and way too much iced coffee. I cannot wait to see what the world has in store for us. (Also, I’m holding you to your promise to help Lauren plan my wedding.) I love you so much.

  Sheila. There aren’t words for how much you mean to me and to this story. You were my very first beta reader and to this day are my go-to whenever I need advice, pep talks, or to yell about Star Wars. (The prequels will always be bad and I’ll always be salty about TLJ.) Thank you for jumping onto this crazy train feet first, thank you for always being there for me when I need you, thank you for putting up with my manic three-hour phone calls when I had to gut the prologue. I couldn’t have done this without you.

  Finally, to my family. Lauren (Seester!), you are my best friend in the entire world. Thank you for putting up with all my crazy and also teaching me how to use highlighter. Eamon, I love you and I can’t wait to see what the next for years have in store for you, little bro. (Go Babo!)

  Dad, you were my very first reader and without you I never would’ve been brave enough to try to get this book published. Thank you for insisting that I share my work with you. Thank you for telling every stranger we meet that I’m an author. Thank you for always believing in my dream.

  Best for last, Mom: Thank you for putting the very first book in my hands and never insisting that I read at my reading level. Thank you for typing up my very first stories because I could never get the hang of the keyboard. Thank you for always acting as if publication was a given and never once doubting that this day would come. Thank you for being such an amazing mother, person, and all around human being, someone I am so proud to call my mom. Thank you.