Starbright: The Complete Series

by Hilary Thompson

  Lexan immediately backs into me and reaches his arms back, grasping at my waist: he knows I’m going to react badly to this statement. His fingers crush my own tightly against his palm, sealing the air from reaching any growing fire.

  He knows me too well. I tremble in his grasp, fighting my internal fire as best I can. Feeling like all my air has been sucked away, I bite my lip so hard that a bead of blood pops between my teeth.

  “We apologize. We meant no disrespect. We will leave you now,” he begins.

  Chuckles shakes his head and grins. “Nope. You’ll still be seeing the Commander. This way.” He whispers something to the other guard, who studies us again, for several beats. Then Chuckles gestures to a small door at the end of the wall and steps forward, opening it. The other guard swings in behind us, blocking any chance of running.

  All I can think of is that we’ll never see Stian and Zarea again - like he said to Lexan, getting captured will be the last thing we do.

  Three hours in, and we’ve already failed.

  A few hurried steps and we are inside the inner wall of the palace. We pause in a grassy courtyard before entering the main building, and the guards take our packs, then pat our bodies for weapons. Lexan’s eyes beg me not to resist. Finally we are escorted inside and I shrug at him – at least we succeeded in gaining access. But I can see fear in his eyes: he understands that this is the largest danger we have ever been in.

  If all the cautionary tales are true, dealing with Keirna will feel like a child’s game compared to what awaits us in Lord Hadeon’s palace.

  Stian’s and Zarea’s faces flicker through my mind again - have they been successful? How will we escape this situation and help all the people depending on us?

  The guards deposit us in a sort of office, leaving our bags and exchanging a few short words with another rank of guard - this one wears a solid black uniform with a wide strip of blackened leather across his eyes and cheekbones. Ovals cut for his eyes reveal black irises and no emotion. The man leads us through a short hallway and into a darkened circular room. He speaks in a low voice with the man behind the desk, and leaves quickly, as though he does not want to be near his superior for longer than necessary.

  “You will obey your Commander,” he says to us as he hurries past. I wonder at his wording, as though the Commander presides over all, and not only the guards. How close is he to Lord Hadeon?

  The man rises and I’m surprised to see that the Royal Guard Commander is narrow-shouldered and quite short - not many inches taller than me. He regards us thoughtfully for several long moments, lacing and unlacing his fingers. Then he opens a drawer, consults a hidden item, and nods.

  “My stars. Just as promised,” he says in a voice so hushed I can barely hear him. How can such a quiet, unassuming man have earned the rank of Royal Guard Commander? Then, as if he heard my thought, he glides from behind his desk and doesn’t stop moving until he is nearly nose-to-nose with me. He inhales deeply.

  “You do indeed smell of fire and ash,” he murmurs, stepping back to a more polite distance. Something in my stomach breaks open and acid wrings up my throat.

  He knows something of me. Ash. Fire. Stars. He knows.

  He offers me a delicate hand, palm down, fingers dangling. I stare at him, unsure of what to do. Lexan nudges me and steps forward slightly, bending at the waist to touch his mouth to the waiting hand. The Commander sniffs at Lexan’s bowed head and stretches his lips into a smile, murmuring something.

  I bend to kiss his hand as well, and he moves so quickly I see only blurs as his other hand squeezes my chin in its bony, child-sized fingers.

  He pulls me even closer to his face and stares intently into my wide eyes.

  Then I feel a sharp slice across my palm and cry out. He releases my face and snatches my bleeding hand to his mouth, scraping a grayish tongue across the blood.

  Tasting me.

  My stomach continues to separate into acid and hollow space.

  “You taste of fire,” he whispers, then begins to hiss as the drops of blood start to sizzle on his parted lips. “Water!” he cries, clutching his hand to his mouth.

  I bury my wounded hand deep in the folds of my skirt, wiping and wiping to erase the feeling of his tongue on my skin. The water is delivered and his mouth wetted as more silent, masked guards rush to hold us back, as though I burned him on purpose with the taste of my blood.

  My brain misfires: nothing makes sense.

  Several minutes pass as Lexan and I panic silently, struggling in the arms of four muscular guards, and the Commander tends to his wounded lips while eyeing us with a maniacal excitement. We have learned so many things in such a short time, and we have no idea what to expect next.

  I feel Lexan’s thought even as I see it on his face: How do they know so much?

  I shake my head. They know even more than we do.

  The Royal Guard Commander turns back to us, his lips raw with impossible blisters. He scowls, but his eyes gleam with obvious triumph. “Fire child. You will see Lord Hadeon immediately. May the gods be with you, or you will join him in Hades.”

  And then we are pulled from the chamber by rough hands, flung down the nearest hallway, and separated. I see Lexan briefly across the hall before both doors are shut, locking me in a stone room without windows, furniture, or rugs. The room is cold as ice and I have no idea how long I will wait here.

  There is nothing to burn, and this is more evidence that they have been expecting us.

  THIRTEEN

  Traditional paintings of the Maiden of Justice have always portrayed her holding a scale, or a Balance, that is in the shape of the Libra constellation. This is why our people have interpreted Head Minister Charles’s prophecy to mean that the children born on the Spring Equinox and Autumn Equinox must be partners. I suspect a strong bond must be forged. Partnership is only a title - an act. True love and real partnership must come from within.

  From Personal Journal of First Leader Firene

  Published after her death, year 2170

  I try to count the minutes to see how quickly the time is passing, but really I have no idea if it’s been five minutes or five hundred. I can’t stop thinking about how my own blood burned a man’s lips. About how my skin and hair smells like fire and ash. I wind a curl past my nose, but detect nothing.

  Eventually the door does open, and a masked guard beckons to me. I can’t decide if he is new or not: with the black masks and uniforms, they all look identical. I quickly obey, noting the long sword and rifle combination propped against his right shoulder and the serrated knives sheathed at his waist.

  The door to Lexan’s room across the hall is still shut, with two guards standing outside.

  I’m lead along an infinite black-tiled path, through a twist of white stone hallways and mirrored white marble corridors and even across a covered porch full of fragrant white lilies, until I am hopelessly lost.

  White and black and black and white. With my multi-layered and patterned skirts and flaming orange curls, I am the only color in the palace.

  Finally we arrive before a set of double doors that is taller than three men’s height, and inlaid with an intricate pattern of pale silver vines and glittering diamond flowers. The guard presses a petal on a lily, then the heart of a daintier flower, and then strokes his fingers along a silver stem, tapping a complex rhythm on its shining leaves. Circular portions of the inlay pattern begin to move as though with magic, and the doors separate gradually, as though the vines are growing, pulling the doors apart.

  With a final click of the hidden gears, the doors open inward and reveal the largest room so far. The guard slips backward so swiftly that I barely realize he is gone until I hear the silver vines snicking back into place behind me.

  Now I am alone, for the room is empty.

  It’s a game, I tell myself, thinking of the power plays Keirna and Abraham use. Intimidation. Anticipation. Surprise. Everything is a game. Hadeon is the Avenger of Blood, the Destr
oyer, and I am playing his game right now.

  I use the time to take in the details of the room.

  The floor is white marble, highly polished. At first it seems to be all one piece, but soon I see a faint geometric pattern joining the pieces and a strange network of narrow silver channels crisscrossing the room. The walls are also white, as is the grouping of couches and chairs in the corner. Long white curtains billow against the wall opposite me, hinting at open windows beyond.

  An enormous silver and diamond throne dominates the space to my left, although I find it strange that it is not centered. And still empty.

  Behind the throne is an ornate silver screen, carved in a similar geometric pattern as the floor. White-flowered vines are woven through the screen, creating a more solid barrier. A delicate fragrance drifts from the screen, and I wonder if there are more windows beyond, moving the air.

  Several minutes have passed and I still am alone in the silent throne room.

  I turn around to study the strange magical door, and come face-to-face with the most exotically beautiful man I’ve ever seen.

  He is more than a head taller than me. His hair is thick and black, an unexpected deep luster in the white of the room. He has permitted a scruff of beard to grow over his square jaw and around lips that are so full and red he could be wearing lipstick.

  But his eyes are what hold me. Blacker than night and yet full of mischievous stars. Rimmed in layers of thick black lashes.

  Suddenly I realize I’ve been staring at him for much longer than I should have.

  He smiles. “Do you like my throne room?”

  Because of course, this beautiful young man is Lord Hadeon of Tartarus. And he is young - much more so than I expected. He can’t be much older than Stian - twenty, perhaps.

  I open my mouth but nothing comes out. His smile grows, and he takes my arm gently, leading me across the open expanse of the floor and guiding me to sit on a velvet couch. I sink several inches into the cushions. My toes dangle, not quite touching the floor. I feel small and child-like.

  The thought that this is how the Commander must feel crosses my mind, and I nearly giggle. A game, I remind myself.

  I force my lips and my back into straight lines and look up at Lord Hadeon, who is still standing, watching me.

  “You have made a very bad impression on my palace guards, as well as Commander Charon, girl who smells of fire and ash,” he begins, and his voice is low and smooth, like the coming of dusk.

  “I apologize-“

  “No need. I enjoy it when Charon is made a fool of. It pleases me. You please me,” he adds, sitting in a chair next to me. He doesn’t so much sit as slink, as though his joints could move in any direction. He reclines gracefully, smoothing the silver embroidery at the edges of his white shirt and adjusting the thin black coat he wears open over it.

  “Who were you traveling with?” he asks after a moment of silence.

  “Just the boy you have.” I decide to keep my answers short.

  “And how long have you been traveling to see me?”

  “Only a short time. We’ve come for the festivals.” A lie. Probably a needless one, since they already seem to know who we are.

  “Ah, yes. Musicians. Can you play a bit for me?” He smiles, and his teeth are like sugar cubes lined up between rose petals.

  “My guitar has been taken,” I answer, looking pointedly at him.

  He raises an eyebrow. “Perhaps this one, then?” He leans over me and reaches fluidly behind the couch, his chest brushing against me. A faint spark jolts through my body, though not in a pleasant way. He smells of incense smoke and something sweet and floral which I can’t place.

  He places a lacquered black guitar in my lap and sits back down, smoothing his shirt and adjusting the edges of his coat again. He must enjoy this show. This game.

  So I play Mother’s song and sing for him, and he claps softly.

  “Beautiful. However, you are not a born musician. Is that the only song you know?”

  I consider him for a long moment, then nod.

  “I thought so. Otherwise, you would not have shared something so dear with me. Oh, and thank you for your first honest answer.”

  I stare more openly at him, gauging how he could possibly know so much about me, when I have only been gone from Asphodel a few weeks, and have never been to his city.

  Who has been spying for him, and for how long?

  “Shall I bring in your friend?” Lord Hadeon asks after a few more long moments. He snaps his fingers, although I can see no one close enough to hear.

  The doors immediately begin to click and whir and soon open to show where Lexan stands waiting. His guard nudges him inside and hurries away. It doesn’t escape my notice that no matter how normal Lord Hadeon has been in the last few minutes, his guards are utterly terrified of him. I’m also curious as to why Lexan is suddenly dressed in all white - linen pants and a thigh-length tunic, not unlike the ones he wore in Asphodel.

  Lord Hadeon motions for Lexan to sit next to me on the couch, then he removes himself to the wall of curtained windows. He pulls a curtain away and sunlight pours in, making the silver channels on the floor glint like miniature rivers. From this angle, I can see how they weave around the throne, disappearing behind the flowered screen.

  Lexan clears his throat and I snap back to his eyes. I notice that he also looks suspiciously clean, as though he has somehow had a bath while I’ve been playing guitar for the Destroyer. He nods toward Hadeon, who seems to be posing in front of the window, waiting to gain our attention. I wonder again why he is so agreeable and hospitable to us, when all we have heard about him is contrary.

  “You were brought before my Royal Guard Commander because my guards reported an altercation. They were also instructed to notice any person with a jeweled face. They will be rewarded. You should be punished.” He pauses and smooths back a stray hair that has fallen across his cheek.

  “I am Lord Hadeon Maximus Spiris, unquestioned ruler of Tartarus. You have been brought before me because my Commander believes you to be someone other than who you claim. If this is true, you should definitely be punished. So sayeth the law.” All of this is spoken in an unhurried, slightly bored tone. Then he fixes me in his black gaze. “Now. Come closer to the windows.”

  I glance again at Lexan, whose mouth is set in a grim line. We rise together and advance a few steps, then a few more as Lord Hadeon beckons again. He is watching our every movement, measuring how close we stand and Lexan’s protective stance, slightly in front of me. I can tell he misses nothing of consequence.

  “What an interesting costume. You do almost look like a traveling musician. A poor one, of course. Unfortunately for your attempt at disguise, the musicians we see are not simply poor. They are absolutely dying from hunger,” he says. His smiles have gone. He snaps the curtain closed again, whirls around, and scowls at us. “Even an imbecilic outer wall guard could see through your pitiful lies. What is your true business in Tartarus?”

  “The festivals-“ Lexan begins.

  “No. Try again.”

  “The Tribes may need your help, or you may need theirs,” I say.

  “Closer, but unlikely. Tartarus does not need military aid. Nor do I give it.”

  “Abraham of Hebron will be looking for us, and for you,” Lexan says, shrugging at me. It’s pointless to keep a charade when Hadeon obviously knows who we are.

  “Ah, Abraham. Of course. I’ve spoken with his representatives quite recently.”

  “How recently?” I ask, hoping, praying that Stian and Zarea are not these representatives.

  Lord Hadeon smiles and tugs at his robe. “Very. We’ve been expecting you for days now. You must have stopped somewhere. Kedesh, perhaps?”

  I lower my eyes and he laughs lightly. At least, if he’s been expecting us for several days, Stian and Zarea were not the informants.

  “Astrea, darling, I have so many, many secrets. Perhaps I will tell them to you one day. But
,” he pauses and waits for me to meet his eyes again. “It is not a lie when I say you will earn every word I give you.”

  Lexan grimaces, then quickly hides it. He tries to smile at me, but it never reaches the other side of his mouth. I know he is very worried. When I realize that I had never given Lord Hadeon my name, I begin to feel a creeping across my back, like an itch that can never be reached.

  Lord Hadeon rubs at his temple as though it aches, then snaps his fingers again. A guard appears from behind the door and Hadeon motions to Lexan.

  “Take him to the Commander. Send the other guard in six minutes for the girl. They need food and she must also have new clothing. Black. Those garish colors hurt my eyes.”

  The guard wastes no time whisking Lexan from the room, and I am again alone with the ruler of Tartarus, worrying about what the strange tiny Commander might do to Lexan.

  I turn to face Hadeon.

  His head is tilted, watching me. “You are a mystery, to me and to yourself. Starbright Maiden.”

  I hold his eyes, counting in my head until six minutes exactly have passed and my guard appears. I force myself to turn my back on Lord Hadeon and exit the expansive white throne room.

  “Where are we going?” I ask my guard as we wind through more versions of white hallways. He doesn’t answer - doesn’t even look at me. Eventually he stops before an ordinary wooden door and opens it, revealing luxurious living quarters.

  We enter a roughly rectangular sitting area, set with two long white couches and a glass table between. The white stone floor is spotted with thick black rugs - I can feel their depth even through my traveling boots, and my feet suddenly ache to be bare. Behind the couches is a curved wall of the same geometric-patterned screen as in the throne room, with an arched doorway in the center.