When Stars Die (The Stars Trilogy)

by Forbes, Amber Skye

  Ann’s small mouth drops open as mine opens in a laugh. “But-I--” She clenches her fists, then points an accusing finger at Nathaniel. “He’s a witch! That’s what he is! I’ll tell the Professed Order, I will!” Nathaniel shrinks so much against her accusing words to the point where it seems he disappears.

  My eyes widen in rage. An accusation is all it takes to bring out an investigation, and they would find Nathaniel to be a witch because they do torture the accused to expose their fire. And those who aren’t witches often die, for the methods chosen become deadlier in a desperate attempt to prove the accusers right. “You can’t--”

  “Miss Corsairs!” Oliver narrows his eyes, and he crosses his arms. “Would you like to repeat this lie at the altar, in front of Deus?” Ann’s accusatory demeanor does not waver. Guilt won’t work for this brat. “I see, then. Would you like me to write your father home then, detailing every punishable offense you have been involved in? I can do that. He can also feel free to pull you from Cathedral Reims and send you to a finishing school to train as a governess. Originally, that’s what he wanted, wasn’t it? But you didn’t want that.”

  Ann grinds her teeth. “You won’t do it if I tell the Professed Order Nathaniel is a witch. You won’t be able to do anything.”

  Ann is right, but Oliver doesn’t concede.

  “Your word against mine? That’s laughable.” Oliver wags a finger at her. “No, no, Miss Corsairs. We can keep this little incident under wraps if you never bother Nathaniel again, and if you leave for the library right now. You shouldn’t be out here anyway. I can also let the Professed Order know where you were, and further privileges will be revoked, as well as a decided-upon punishment for this little infraction. If I were you, I’d get to the library and study The Vulgate, like you were supposed to have been doing.”

  Her face burns red. She opens her mouth to say more, only to be cut off by a simple chin raise from Oliver that implies ‘my word is final, and if you say anything more, I will simply let the Professed Order know of what you did, regardless of whether or not you let them know that Nathaniel stole your bracelet, and regardless of whether or not you accuse him of being a witch.’

  “I have enough power to get you expelled, Ann,” Oliver says, his word final. “I know you don’t want to be a governess. Getting petty revenge against Nathaniel isn’t worth it for you, and I know this.”

  With a final huff from Ann, she composes herself and storms away from us. When she disappears into the building, I let out a single laugh and look at Oliver with bright eyes and a huge smile.

  “Olly, you’re grand!” Ann will not be accusing my little brother of witchcraft any time soon, not if she wants to stay here.

  He gives me an embarrassed smile. “No one bullies your little brother, Amelia. And no one certainly bullies you, especially not a hormonally driven boy who should be shackled to the wall until he calms down.” He shrugs. “You’re privileged to have a priest for a friend.”

  I think to hug Oliver, but then restrain that thought over knowing what that hug could to do me. I’m already feeling giddy and warm over Oliver’s actions against Ann. With the smile still plastered on my face, I turn this cheeriness toward Nathaniel. The smile drops.

  “Nat, what’s wrong?”

  Nathaniel is rigid against me, his pupils shrunk to the size of a pin tip. He trembles, releasing breaths that come out in icy wisps. Oliver kneels to his height and cups his face with both hands. He turns Nathaniel’s head from side to side.

  “We need to get him to the infirmary, Amelia. I think he’s in shock.”

  My hands tighten on Nathaniel’s shoulders. “Shock? Over what?”

  Nathaniel’s breathing turns heavy. He starts gasping. Oliver runs behind Nathaniel and pats his back. “Deep breaths,” he tells him. “Deep breaths.”

  His breaths don’t deepen. They come out ragged. He opens his mouth to speak; however, any words he wanted to say are cut short when the ragged breaths turn to loud gasps that make me think he’s choking.

  I bend down in front of Nathaniel and look into his eyes. “Nat? Nat!” His eyes are not focused on me. They are focused on some point above my head. I want to follow his eyes to see where he is looking, but Nathaniel twitches, and then just collapses in Oliver’s arms, his head lolling to the side. “Nathaniel!”

  Chapter Nine

  In the infirmary, Sister Lila removes the thermometer from Nathaniel’s mouth and confirms he doesn’t have a fever. “It’s likely shock,” she says, dipping the implement in a cup of boiling water and then gathering her various other doctor tools. “From what, I don’t know, but I’ll keep him in here for the rest of the day and overnight for observation. If his condition improves by tomorrow, he’ll be released with strict orders to not overdo anything.”

  Sister Lila bundles her instruments in her apron, and with a warm smile, exits the infirmary, leaving Oliver and I alone.

  I touch Nathaniel’s soft cheek. It’s warm, but not fever warm.

  “Shock, is that right?” Oliver says with narrowed eyes. “I suppose it shouldn’t be too surprising. Maybe it was Ann’s accusation.”

  I shake my head. “I don’t think it could be enough to do this though.”

  “Maybe it’s those cigarettes. You said it’s obvious he’s smoked more than one. What did you do with the tin?”

  “I still have it,” I say. “I’ll discard it later. Perhaps it was the smoking. He’s too young to be doing that. His body can’t handle it. He was coughing when I pulled that thing out of his hand. He was gasping before he fainted.”

  Oliver shrugs. “Then maybe not shock, but an inability to breathe at the time?”

  I run the back of my hand along Nathaniel’s cheek, hoping the touch will pull him from this temporary sleep. I don’t want to assume what happened without being able to ask Nathaniel what he thinks happened to him. “He was looking at something before he fainted.”

  “I wouldn’t say he was looking at anything,” Oliver says. “He was spacing out.”

  “That look didn’t appear spacey to me.”

  There is an answer for Nathaniel’s condition, rubbing at the folds of my brain, but to speak the possibility out loud is too harrowing. Sister Marie began to have such fits before her final undoing, where the nuns discovered her one morning, coated in her own blood after she took a pair of scissors and dug into her flesh. No one understood what pushed Sister Marie to the brink of insanity, to the most frightening pits that spoke the terrifying words she etched into her skin: abuse, hurt, pain, fear, blood, suicide. The letters were jagged, almost incomprehensible, but they were there. I think I’m beginning to understand though. There are things that go on at Cathedral Reims that no one wants to talk about because others who have been here before us just accepted things as they were.

  The nuns are allowed to beat us. Most don’t, but some do. I have been lucky enough in my time here to avoid the ones who do. Sister Marie wasn’t. Nathaniel doesn’t seem like he is lucky either. I should have listened when he told me about the nun who hit his hand. That is just the start. The older one gets, the worse the beatings.

  Sometimes Sister Marie would have bruises on her arms that she covered with worn habits she’d steal from the laundry room. Sometimes she would have chafe marks marred into her skin, from the backboards used during deportment lessons--not because this is a common occurrence when one is strapped to a backboard, but because a certain nun may pull it too taut if she is not happy with the way a sister is carrying herself. And then sometimes sisters would blame Sister Marie, that she brought all these beatings upon herself because she did not come into Cathedral Reims with the natural attitude of a nun. She was not born with perfect posture, a soft voice, a pleasant smile, and a mind meant to be molded for convent life. She had to be broken because she never wanted to be here. Unfortunately, she had nowhere else to go--or so she thought, before an asylum wrapped her in its sterile clutches.

  “What are you thinking about, Amelia?
” Oliver tilts my face up at him, making me realize I’ve been staring at some point on Nathaniel for minutes. “This isn’t your fault, so you better not be blaming yourself.”

  I shake my head. “I’m so selfish, Olly,” I say, trying to push back the tears that pound against my eyes. “Nathaniel told me he didn’t want to be here. If I make him stay, I’d hate to think what will happen to him.”

  Oliver touches my hair, a pleasant shiver spreading along my skull. “Amelia…” He toys with the braid draped over my shoulder. “He doesn’t have to stay.” He undoes the braid and drags his fingers through my hair, heat pulsing up my neck. “You don’t have to stay.”

  I look at Nathaniel, then dart my eyes over to Colette’s curtain-shrouded bed. The tears can’t stay dammed forever. They come, and I throw myself at Oliver, shirking all decorum and all that other nonsense Cathedral Reims expects from sisters. I am human, as is my brother. We crave affection, we crave affirmation that what we’re doing is right, and we crave all that Cathedral Reims forbids.

  “Maybe this isn’t meant to be,” I say, burying my face in Oliver’s soft shoulder, surrounding myself in his wintry scent that pushes out the medicinal smells of the infirmary. “You’re right, Oliver.”

  He strokes my hair with his soft fingertips, threading one strand of hair at a time as he does. “I never said Cathedral Reims wasn’t meant to be for you, Amelia. It’s what you want. All I said is that perhaps you need a break. But that light in your eyes, that beautiful determination, it tells me you want this for yourself, and how can I deny you that? In spite of how much I may disagree with what goes on around here, I can’t tell you that what you want is wrong or stupid. That would be foolish of me.”

  I look up, latching on to his gray eyes that reflect the wintry sky outside. “It’s what I want. But it’s me who wants this, not Nathaniel. I can’t send him home…alone.”

  “And why can’t you?”

  I look at Nathaniel, my cheeks burning with shame. “I have to protect him.”

  “Amelia--”

  Nathaniel moans, clipping off whatever Oliver wanted to tell me. His eyebrows tremble, his eyelids steadily lifting to reveal tired blue eyes. He looks from me to Oliver, then back to me again, confusion beginning to settle in his eyes. He sits up, keeping the blanket wrapped around him. “Amelia, what happened?” he asks, his voice soft.

  I pull away from Oliver, my face heating up. The opposite sex isn’t allowed to hug at Cathedral Reims. Our interactions can only ever be formal, and Oliver has convinced the Professed Order that that is all our relationship is. It’s lucky he is a trusted member. Any other boy would not be able to get away with convincing the Professed Order of anything without some level of established trust. It is only younger children allowed to mingle—with supervision--as they are not of age yet.

  “You don’t remember?” I ask, brushing bangs out of his weary eyes.

  He shakes his head, his hand entwining with mine.

  “You were looking at something before you fainted,” I say.

  Nathaniel’s eyes widen. He lets go of my hand and pulls the blanket up to his neck.

  I touch his back with the tips of my fingers. “What were you looking at?”

  “I wasn’t looking at anything!”

  “Nat, I’m not accusing you of anything. I just want to know.”

  He shakes his head.

  Oliver puts a firm hand on Nathaniel’s back, our fingertips touching. “Natty, you don’t have to be ashamed. Tell us what happened. What do you think made you faint? Were you feeling sick earlier today?”

  Nathaniel keeps shaking his head, his eyes squeezed shut. An eight year old shouldn’t have to go through this. I am the most terrible older sister that has ever existed. What kind of sister am I to put my little brother in a situation like this?

  I pull my hand away from Nathaniel. “It’s all right, Nat. You don’t have to tell us anything. But know that I love you and I am here for you, if you want to talk.”

  Nathaniel looks down at the bed with half-lidded eyes. A spark of resentment appears, then dissipates as a small voice chirps from the entrance of the infirmary.

  “Nathaniel!”

  All three of us turn our heads to find Nurse Lila clasping the small hand of a girl with bright blonde hair and blue-gray eyes that stand out amongst her porcelain skin. She prances over to him.

  Nathaniel blushes, pulling the sheet up to hide his burning cheeks. “Isis…”

  Oliver smiles at me. “I think we should give these two some alone time. Sister Lila will supervise.”

  I grin, knowing that Nathaniel is disguising an embarrassed smile beneath that sheet. “I suppose you’re right. I’m quite tired, in any case. It’s getting late.”

  “I’ll escort you to your room,” Oliver says.

  I kiss Nathaniel on the top of his head. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

  Nathaniel nods. Isis crawls on to the bed with him while Oliver and I exit the infirmary.

  On our way to the rooms on the second floor, I admit to Oliver a watered-down version of why I think Nathaniel fainted. “I am selfish, Olly, for wanting Nat to stay when he doesn’t need to. I think the stress got to him, not the smoking, or anything else. Perhaps that’s why he fell into shock. Being out there with Ann and all, and those demon boys. Poor thing. It must have gotten to him.”

  Oliver puts his hand on my back, the slight touch making me want more. The walls of Cathedral Reims are so repressive that they push in on me and quash any desires I have for him.

  “Probably,” he says, looking around. At this time of day, Cathedral Reims is mostly empty due to everyone attending the last Liturgy of the Hour before bedtime. So it is just Oliver and I as we climb the winding stairs to the second floor. “I told you not to blame yourself, Amelia. You were doing what you thought was best. You're not perfect, and you shouldn’t try to be.” He stops us at the landing of the second floor, the wood groaning beneath our feet. It’s just the first floor with stone flooring. “Maybe we should go back downstairs, to the nave.”

  Oliver makes a grab for my hand, but I pull it in the coat. “No, Oliver. We shouldn’t. They’ll be coming out soon, you know. They’ll cross the nave to get to the dormitories and their rooms.”

  His face falls. “But that won’t be for a bit.”

  My cheeks flush. “Oliver, we can’t.”

  “I understand, but truly, why?”

  “You know the rules, Olly. You know how things are supposed to be between us. It’s worse for nuns, especially. You’ll just be given a slap on the hand, but I’ll be exiled.” I close my eyes, soaking in the reality of the implications we toss between each other. “Nothing but this can ever exist between us, Oliver.”

  His eyes fall to the scuffed floor. “Not even in secret?”

  “Not even in secret. So whatever we feel about each other, we just have to ignore.”

  He frowns. “Like we’ve been doing this whole time, Amelia? I just can’t do that, seeing you every day, with your hair, your eyes, your smile.” He turns away, his cheeks flushing a light purple, a peculiar color for a blush, but his blush, nonetheless.

  “Would you rather be my friend, or not have me at all, because if you can’t control yourself, then it will have to be the latter.”

  Oliver says nothing and starts down the tight corridor of shuttered classrooms and study areas. Not a soul breathes behind them--only the knowledge of Cathedral Reims exists behind those doors when no one occupies those rooms. From day one, those rooms contain everything anyone in the Professed Order ever needs to know and nothing else. We don’t need to know anything else, certainly not about feelings or being human.

  We make it halfway down the corridor, when Oliver stops me again. “Since nothing can ever happen between us, can I at least kiss you?”

  I raise my eyebrow, an intense heat blossoming in my stomach that threatens to seep under every edge of me. “What will kissing do? If you like it, you’re going to want more.”r />
  “I just want to know what it’s like to kiss you, that’s all. And once I know, I don’t think I’ll want any more.”

  I sigh, mulling over his request. I’m about to decide, when I hear a familiar pair of boots pound in the direction of the stairwell that leads to the first floor. None other than Theosodore Branch appears, bearing a jagged smile that makes me want to run to my room.

  “There you are, Miss Amelia Gareth. I see Oliver Cromwell is in your company.” He raises an eyebrow in a suggestive manner. “I hope he is simply being a gentleman. After all, you know what will happen if there is anything more. But I digress. I merely came to fetch you. Mother Aurelia would like to have a word with you. Your little brother is already in her vestry, waiting patiently for you.” He then approaches me and brings his voice down to a barely audible whisper. “I would stay away from Oliver, if I were you. Period.”

  #

  Mother Aurelia throws a log in the fire, the flames blazing and crackling with sparks that land on marble tiles set into the parquet floor. She settles her enormous bulk in her chair, and turns to face Nathaniel and I who sit on small stools that make me feel feeble.

  She clasps her hands in front of her. “With the recent events of the past few days, I have come to a reasonable conclusion of what needs to happen.”

  I shrink away from the words, a metal coil wrapping itself around my heart.

  “I will not be reconsidering sending the both of you home. You will leave tomorrow afternoon. Oliver will escort you to Norbury.”

  No grand speeches. No warnings. Just the blunt truth. The metal coil pierces my heart. “How did you know I lived in Norbury?”

  “Mr. Gareth,” she gestures at Nathaniel, “was kind enough to provide me with an address, and an explanation that the both of you have not seen your parents in three years, all the more reason to send you home. I’m certain they’re worried to high heaven about where you’ve been. I’m rather shocked they never knew you came here. Generally the decision to come here rests with the parents.” Then that should be all the more reason for me to stay, considering it was my decision alone. “Make no mistake, Miss Gareth. Mr. Cromwell will deliver you to Norbury, where I will then make certain he personally delivers you to your home. I will then expect a call from your parents to confirm that you have indeed arrived. Otherwise, Oliver will be demoted.”