Darken the Stars

by Amy A. Bartol

  Enormous framed portraits cover the walls. They depict lovely, blond-haired, blue-eyed Etharians. The ceiling is at least two stories above our heads and painted with gorgeous Viking-like rune symbols.

  There are three camps languishing in the room. On the left side of the room, by the open doors, there are a few groupings of beautiful blond women. Three of them sit at a gaming table that has a three-tier chesslike board on its marble top. Elegant stone figurines that resemble mythological creatures: dragons, griffins, winged horses, and the like, rove over the game board on their own. The women are each adorned with face candy; black lace adheres to the tall one’s eyebrows, henna lines arch over the thinner one’s brow, and golden chains stretch from ear to ear over the snub nose of the one with golden eyelashes.

  The second camp is near the back of the room. Soft music is playing from an instrument that resembles a pianoforte. Every single inch of this priestess’s eyebrows are covered with silver ring piercings. Two women accompanying the pianoforte play stringed instruments that sound like violins. Still another priestess is playing a weirdly shaped guitar that has the resonance of a mandolin.

  The third camp in the room is located to the right of it. It’s a group of attractive blond men who are seated on thronelike chairs. They’re monsters who are wary of the shark at my side. A couple of them rise from their seats to ease their discomfort at Kyon’s height advantage over them. It still doesn’t help though. Kyon’s the tallest one in the room . . . and the most fit . . . and if I’m being honest, he’s the handsomest as well, and it kills me to think that.

  It bothers me that the Brothers don’t do more than glance at me. They’re definitely not as afraid of me as they are of Kyon. I’m surprised to know that it bothers me that I’m the lesser of the two evils in their eyes. I want them to quake when they see me and shudder when my very name is spoken. I want them to cower in my presence. It’s a bit shocking to me the depth of this emotion. Maybe it shouldn’t be. They’re one of the reasons that I’m here. How dare they bring me here! What right do any of them have to my life? It’s mine.

  Kyon leads me past the male encampment on the right without even acknowledging the Brothers’ presence. He does the same with priestess gamers at the elegant card table, even though they’re all watching him with road-sign eyes designed to let him know that they have no problem merging with him at any point up ahead. He doesn’t seem to notice the tell-me-I’m-pretty looks he gets from them, or if he does, he’s stoically ignoring them. I assess him with a side-glance. Kyon Ensin is the resident bad boy who every single one of them wants to sample. Nezra isn’t alone in her adoration of him. Interesting. How can I use this to my advantage?

  Kyon leads me to a small cluster of seats in front of the musicians. I notice for the first time that there’s one more priestess in the room that I missed. It’s Goth-girl . . . what was her name? Phlix? She’s the priestess who tried to help Kyon kidnap me on the Ship of Skye—the one who can create a shadow land that hides anyone within it.

  From her chair in front of the musicians, Phlix gives me a bashful smile, and then she bites her lip. Her long, blond hair is loose around her shoulders. Kohl rims her sad, blue eyes. She doesn’t wear any facial adornments other than makeup. I wonder about it as I sit with a chair between us. I expect Kyon to sit next to me. Instead, he grasps my hand, putting it to his lips. “I will go speak with the Brothers. I won’t be too long.”

  Kissing my hand, he smiles before he releases it. He turns to leave me when I say over-dramatically, “You’re abandoning me, my love?” From the corner of my eye, I notice the heads of the musicians turn perceptibly in our direction.

  Kyon pauses, his eyes widening briefly. He slowly turns back to me. “I’ll be right over there.” He points to the group of Brothers. I look in their direction with a shy smile.

  Getting to my feet and invading Kyon’s personal space, I use my fingertips to skim over his dark uniform sleeve. I twist a tendril of my hair around my finger and look up at him from beneath my eyelashes. “But what if I miss you?”

  His eyebrows pull together a little before they go up minutely. A smile develops on his lips, but he quickly hides it from everyone. His hand touches my shoulder, slipping down my side. When it reaches my waist he pulls me closer to him. His proximity makes my heart flutter faster.

  “It’ll be torture to be so far away from you, but I’ll be able to see you from there,” he says, playing along.

  “Should I give you something to remember me by?” I ask, as I trace my finger over his chest. A note of music is played off key. I pretend not to notice the cold sound of the missed bow stroke from one of the priestesses beside us.

  “I think you must,” Kyon replies. “I need something to cherish.”

  I couldn’t be more afraid of what I’m about to do if I was holding a razor blade to my bare wrist. My hand rests lightly on his chest, working its way slowly up to the symbols that darken his neck. Kyon’s hand slips behind my back. He presses me to him. His body has to have been carved from the mountains surrounding this place because it’s granite and doesn’t feel real. Leaning his face toward mine, my mouth tips up to meet his. Before our lips touch, my violet, half-lidded eyes meet his intense stare. For a second, I think I see the future in them—one with him and me and blinding stars.

  I couldn’t feel farther from my home than I do now.

  Breathless and trembling, my lips touch his. Our feathery kiss whispers secrets to my marrow. I forget to breathe until Kyon responds with languid brushes of his lips to mine. His gentleness lulls me. I’m safe. My lips part; I deepen the kiss. The first stroke of his tongue is a rush of fire that cuts through me. Battle lines appear. The impact of our kiss invades my senses. I try to retreat. Kyon doesn’t allow it. He draws me closer to keep me from escaping. I’m burned from my home. A chaos of emotion blossoms between us. I’m not the hunter in this game; I can hardly keep myself from becoming the prey.

  The music stops; the silence is shouting around us, and still he kisses me. I’ve been in trouble all of my life. I’ve never felt it more so than now.

  “Lightning has struck,” one of the Brothers behind us says sourly.

  A rumble of laughter comes from Kyon. I feel his smile against my lips. He moves his face away a few inches so he can see me better. The sledgehammering of my heart must be apparent to his sharp eyes. Kyon doesn’t look away from me as he says, “You probably never even knew it was raining, Gannon.” I look in that direction. The faces of the Brothers are bone-white and grim. I doubt any of them has heard Kyon laugh before.

  Kyon presses a kiss to my temple. “I will always remember this,” he murmurs against my hair. He pulls away from me and goes to the other side of the room to have conversations with the monsters who want to kill us. A part of me wants to follow him. We’re supposed to be a team in this. How am I supposed to scare the hell out of them from way over here? I sink into my seat and weave my fingers together wicker-basket tight.

  “He’s in love with you,” Phlix says from her seat beside me.

  I want to laugh my head off. Kyon doesn’t love me. He wouldn’t know love if it stabbed him in the chest with a pink, puffy heart. I’m a means to an end to him.

  “He’s in love with my savagery.” I feign a dreamy sigh.

  “Are you still a savage?” she asks with doe-eyed innocence.

  “Yes,” I say. To them I undoubtedly am. That works for me. I’ll play to their expectations and give them what they think they know about me.

  We watch and listen as the exquisite priestesses create music that sounds like it comes from some ethereal plane of being. Every so often though, I detect a raw note, a misshapen bow stroke that is discordant from the rest. The musicians annoy me, I realize. They’ve spent a lifetime playing music while I’ve spent mine trying to survive on my own.

  “Do you enjoy this melody, Kricket?” Phlix asks.

  I’ve never heard it before in my life. “It’s my very favorite,” I mumble
. I look over my shoulder; Kyon is watching me while one of the Brothers discusses something with him in hushed tones.

  “They’re Virulences,” Phlix whispers, nodding toward the beautiful women playing instruments in front of us. “Trula, Greer, and Doe are designed to influence thoughts with their melodies.”

  “Excuse me?” I choke. My head snaps in her direction.

  “They’re trying to control you right now. I’m blocking them from influencing me. I’ve tried to block you as well, but you don’t seem to need it like I do.”

  “What are they trying to make me do?” I wonder as I scrutinize them.

  “Kill yourself,” she whispers without a hint of deception. “Their music is designed to infect others. They despise you and they’ve been instructed to make you sick if they can’t get you to kill yourself. Can’t you feel the venom they’re directing at you?”

  “I feel nothing. You’re doing a good job of protecting me.”

  She beams at me. I recognize her smile. It’s connection. Bridget, my ex-roommate on Earth, smiled at me like that the first time I met her in juvenile detention. “You’d feel it if it was working. You wouldn’t be able to keep anything in your stomach and you’d bleed from the nose and mouth.”

  “They’re killer stereo, huh?” I mutter.

  “I can’t block it all. Are you sure you cannot feel it?”

  I shake my head. “No. Nothing.”

  “Perhaps your physiology is different than ours—you’re not pureblood.”

  “How come it doesn’t seem to be hurting anyone else in this room?”

  “We’ve all been required to build up a tolerance to it, but look there.” She indicates the group of priestesses in a different cluster away from the game table. One of the priestesses is ill. Hunched over, she holds her middle as if she may be sick. Her companions are speaking to her in low, concerned tones. I can’t hear what they’re saying. A very tall priestess adorned with a diamond-studded headpiece signals to the Virulences playing behind me with wave of her hand. They play a different song. The sick priestess blinks a few times. Straightening, she drops her hands from her stomach before speaking as if nothing out of the ordinary has occurred.

  “The Virulences may need to concentrate on a different frequency of sound in order to hurt you.”

  “Who ordered them to hurt me?”

  With a fearful glance, she searches the room to ensure we’re not being overheard. “Not here,” she mutters.

  “Okay.”

  “Do you think you’ll try to escape from here?” she whispers. I don’t reply. “When you do, will you take me with you?”

  A small, heavy stone game piece hits the chair between us. Turning, I look in the direction of the priestesses at the game table. A blue, gemstone bird catapults from the center of the game board on its own and strikes Phlix in the shoulder. She winces at the impact, but otherwise doesn’t acknowledge it. The priestess with black lace on her eyebrows giggles with delight over the prank. The lace adornment gives her catlike eyes that she uses to glare at me. I glare back.

  “Who’s that?” I ask.

  Phlix glances quickly over her shoulder at the priestesses before turning away, saying, “Don’t look at them!” She gives me a timid look. When I continue to glare unabashedly at them, she whispers quickly, “The one with the black lace cutouts is Brighton. She’s telekinetic.”

  “How good is she at it?”

  Phlix shrugs. “I think what you just saw is the best she can do. It still hurts though.” She looks down at her hands that she had clutched in her lap. I size up Brighton. She’s annoyed that I haven’t been cowed by her death-gaze. She says something with a derogatory twist of her lips and her friends beside her both snicker. It’s plain that she believes herself to be very powerful. She has no idea that she’s dining at the kid’s table. Giffen could eat her for breakfast with his gift.

  “And the other two with Brighton?” I wonder.

  “Ryker is the one with the thin dark lines on her brow.”

  “What can she do?”

  “She can speak telepathically to animals that are of higher intelligence, such as canines, spixes, and primates. And before you ask, the last one is Ashland.”

  “What’s Ashland’s gift?” I study her. The gold chains she wears over her nose make her look regal.

  “They call her a lotus. Her kiss is intoxicating. It makes the recipient forget all of his ambitions so that he worships only her.”

  “How long does her kiss last?” I ask out of curiosity.

  “I’m told it can last a quarter of a part.” Fifteen or twenty minutes, I assess.

  Brighton glares at me again. I yawn loudly. She breaks eye contact and stares at an onyx dragon-shaped game piece. The carved beast trembles against the marble of the game board before it is flung into the air straight at me. Lifting my hand, I catch the black dragon in my palm without flinching. The sting from the impact resonates through my arm, but I never let my bored expression change. Ryker and Ashland stop smirking and glance at Brighton, who gives them a sullen look.

  I hand the scaly dragon replica to Phlix. “You shouldn’t let them push you around like that. You should stand up to them.”

  She grips the onyx figure in anger. “That’s very easy for you to say when you never had to grow up with them—never had to endure their cruelty! You were lucky—raised on Earth—free of all of this.” She raises her other hand to indicate the opulence of her surroundings.

  “Yeah.” I frown and make a whatever-you-say face. “I had it easy.”

  “So you will take me with you when you leave?”

  “What makes you think I’m leaving?”

  “I was there—I saw you fight us on the Ship of Skye. You were not about to be taken alive. You must really want to go home. I really want to go with you when you do.”

  “Why? It can’t be just them.” I gesture toward the pretty idiots over my shoulder.

  “No. It’s them too.” She bumps her chin in the direction of the Brothers. “They have brokered a deal with a Brother named Pike.”

  “What kind of deal?”

  “A claiming—my claiming. They want me paired to him.”

  “And you don’t like Pike?”

  “No.”

  “What’s wrong with Pike?” I ask.

  “You could ask Caramina, the last priestess they gave him, if she were still alive, but he strangled her to death . . . so I think you’ll just have to guess.”

  “When?”

  “When what?” she counters. “When did he strangle her?”

  “No. When does he claim you?”

  “At the end of the speck,” she replies, indicating that at the end of the month, she’s got a huge problem.

  “And you want me to save you?”

  “No. I want us to save each other. Kyon may love you, but you don’t love him.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Most of the time, I live in the shadow land that I’m able to create. I have to hide from these egos.” She indicates the people surrounding us. “I observe others. I know fear when I see it. Kyon scares you—as well he should—he’s the most frightening one in the room.”

  My eyes don’t stray to Kyon because I know he’s watching us. I can see him in the reflection of the brass instrument resting idly in front of me. I don’t want him to suspect that we’re discussing anything besides the other priestesses. He’s aware of what’s happening in this room. I think he’s curious to see how it affects me and what I’ll do. I’m about to enlighten him, but not just yet.

  “If we go, we’re going to need things,” I murmur.

  Phlix stops breathing for a moment. Her normally pale face becomes rosy. Cold fingers reach over and cover mine for the breath it takes to squeeze my hand, and then they slip away. “I know how to get things.”

  “Where do you stay?”

  “Freming House.”

  I remember it. Kyon pointed it out to me when we flew over it. “That’s
not going to work out at all. We need you here.”

  “They’ll never allow it.”

  “Why not?”

  “Well . . . I don’t know . . . it’s just not done. All priestesses reside at Freming House.”

  “I won’t.”

  “Are you sure?” she asks. “We’re here to persuade Kyon to release you to us.”

  “He won’t let me out of his sight.”

  “Then none of this will work.” It’s as if I just told her that her best friend died. She’s crushed. She holds back tears as her clenched hand with the onyx dragon hides her mouth. We listen to the strains of the mesmerizing music. I still feel nothing from the toxic melody, and the worry it causes the group of musicians in front of me is telling. Their faces show strain.

  I glance at Phlix. Her eyes are shiny with unshed tears. I exhale a breath. “All is not lost,” I mutter. “Wait here.” I rise from my seat.

  Phlix appears startled. “Where are you going?” She rises too.

  “I’m going to try to arrange a sleepover,” I whisper.

  “You’re going to go talk to the Brothers?” she asks. “Without being summoned?”

  “Yeah.” I’m irritated that she thinks I need to ask them permission to speak.

  I square my shoulders, feeling every eye in the room on me. As gracefully as possible, I cross the room to where Kyon is standing, leaning against the wall. I knew he was watching me, but the intensity of his stare is hard to ignore. Nearing him, I hear the Brother in front of him say, “We cannot leave here without her. He will kill us all. He won’t see your hasty claiming ceremony as legitimate.”

  “The ceremony was legal; it was witnessed by a member of the Brotherhood. I have no intention of allowing Kricket to reside at Freming House—now or ever. She’s dear to me, Ainsley. I will not allow you to ruin her. If he wants to meet her, he’ll have to come to me.”