Starbright: The Complete Series

by Hilary Thompson

  Following the guard, I find that the curve of the screen continues, forming a full circle - a white tile fountain bubbles quietly at the center of the space, and a narrow skylight filters light down to the water. A tiny movement catches my eye, and as I step closer, a shiny brown bird breaks into flight, escaping into the opening above.

  The other parts of the room are barely visible through the tightly-woven screen: I see a bed through one arched door, and the bath through another. I can’t help but sigh when I glimpse the enormous soaking tub and the piles of pillows. Lord Hadeon might kill me tomorrow, but at least I’ll have a night of comfort.

  The guard points silently toward an enormous black lacquered wardrobe, and I open it to find all sorts of clothing. All black. He bows to me, then backs out of the room, leaving me alone.

  I pause to glance longingly at the soaking tub before setting about the responsible task of thoroughly examining my room.

  There are no windows or balconies to escape from. The wooden door I entered from is now locked from the outside. Pressing my ear to the keyhole, I can hear the shuffling of boots outside.

  There is no way to reach the skylight other than possibly climbing the screens, but the pattern is too tight to allow for finger holds. And I have no idea how high we are - I could be locked in a tower for all I know.

  The bed is draped with heavy black curtains which can be pulled closed to block light, although with no windows I can’t imagine this is a problem. Walking all the way around the bed, I’m startled to find my pack, resting against a narrow door. Almost as if it were placed there to draw my attention.

  I quickly rifle through the pack: my clothing, food, and knives are gone, but everything else - even the coins - is still there. I glance up at the shrunken door again, wondering at the mystery of this palace.

  Warily, I place an ear to the door, but I hear nothing. I try the handle, and it turns.

  Pushing the door inward a few inches, I can faintly see a tiny room with a single slim bed, a single light, and a single white dress hanging from a hook on the wall. It is empty, but clearly someone lives here.

  Suddenly I become aware of faint footsteps, like slippers dancing across bare floor, and I rush to close the tiny door, replace my pack, and bounce onto the bed. I lean around the bed curtains, trying to see into the sitting area.

  But the main door never opens. Perhaps the footsteps were headed to another room. I wonder where they have placed Lexan. I hope he is being treated well, too. Uneasily, I remember Caine’s warning that Hebron only had need for one star.

  I wonder if Tartarus shares the beliefs of Asphodel, or of Hebron.

  I wonder what has become of Stian and Zarea, outside the palace walls.

  I wonder what Keirna is doing to my family, my friends.

  I sink into the pillows for several minutes, lost in worry. I’ve come so far and gained so much, but I’m currently at an absolute loss for what to do.

  A long time passes. Tears collect in my eyes, but I wipe them away before they spill. More footsteps and doors sound around me, but the door of my room stays shut.

  A small noise behind me catches my attention, and as I peer around the black canopy, my heart skips several beats as I come eye to eye with a girl in a simple white dress. I quickly scan her white slippers, slim brown legs, and shaking body.

  Finally I connect with her eyes. They are as blue as the sky, and filled with fear of me - their size appears larger and more striking because of the sheer black veil she wears from her nose to her neck.

  I try to smile, but I worry it comes out more like a grimace.

  Her hands flutter, then she darts back through the narrow door. Does she live in that tiny room? I hear the open and close of more unseen doors, then silence. I flop back onto the pillows just as Lexan appears, his feet silent on the rugs.

  He grins. “Hey.”

  “Where have you been?” I demand, aggravated that I didn’t hear his approach.

  “That creepy Commander guy took me to see the training room. I see you’ve met our friend.” He gestures to the girl, who has also appeared silently. “I can’t get her to talk - I think it must be forbidden. But it seems like she’s here to help us. A servant, I guess. The guard brought me here first to have a bath and change, and then he took me to the throne room. It’s so nice. And weird, like I don’t know why everything is so nice for us.”

  I study him as he rambles, noticing that his hair still looks slightly damp. Then I realize what I must look like in contrast and I feel a hot flush on my cheeks.

  “I should probably…” I gesture at my skirt, which is more brown than multi-colored from the day’s explorations. I rub at my cheeks again and makeup smears across my palm.

  “Yes, sorry! Please get a bath. You’ll feel so much better. I’ll just wait on the couches and then we can eat.” He turns to the girl. “Will they bring dinner here?”

  The girl nods, lowering her eyes.

  “Wait-” I say, finally realizing what he’s known for hours. “We’re staying in the same room?”

  He nods and a bright flush creeps up his neck. “I said something to the guard, but he just ignored me. Don’t worry - I can sleep on the couch.”

  He smiles again and hurries through the circular room toward the low couches. I bite back a smile of my own. He’s not usually so talkative, and I wonder if he’s nervous. I’m somehow not, even though I should be, considering our current positions - both the odd sleeping arrangements and the life-threatening ruler next door.

  I push off the bed and trudge toward the tub. The girl hurries to begin the water and empty packets of soap into the steamy depths. I try to help her but she shakes her head violently and nearly falls in trying to beat me to the job. Soon bubbles froth over the surface and I almost cry again when I lower my aching body into the water.

  I dunk my head under and float beneath the bubbles, reveling in the sensation of dark and quiet. For a moment, it’s the same feeling I used to gain from meditating at my hot pool.

  That seems like a lifetime ago.

  And really, it was. All of this is part of a new life now - I may be captive, but I am the Maiden of Justice. Nothing can change that revelation.

  FOURTEEN

  July 4, 2067

  Today is the once-birthday of the nation that is no more. They used to celebrate with fireworks and grilled food - today we watch the flare of bombs and eat canned food. Charles thinks his underground safe house will be ready in less than a year, but with the new military requests, he’s having difficulty getting enough supplies to complete it. But he’s still working to build a place safe enough for us to wait for the war to end. Wait for the world to end. Clota just makes fun of him whenever we talk of anything ending. She says that the world has already ended if nobody wants to fight for what’s left. She doesn’t want to wait - she wants to attack and conquer.

  From First Leader Lakessa’s private journal

  Included in Firene’s secret papers

  “What’s your name?” I ask the girl as she chooses an outfit for me after my bath. Black or black or black - such decisions.

  She ignores me, never meeting my eyes.

  “Are you allowed to talk to me?” I ask.

  She shakes her head briefly, pulling out a pair of black slippers with shiny ribbons that lace around the ankles.

  “Do you serve anyone besides Lexan and me?”

  She ignores me again and I sigh, pulling on a long black skirt. To my annoyance, there is a slit in the fabric which reaches several inches above my knee. When I move, my entire leg slips through the front of the skirt.

  “Is there another skirt? Without a slit?”

  No response. This girl needs a lesson on serving, if that’s indeed what she is. Evidently I am not in charge of what she does - I don’t really need a servant, but I could sure use an informant. Which is precisely why she is forbidden to speak to me, I assume. I scowl at my reflection in the mirror. I look plain without all the face paint a
nd lipstick I wore earlier - like a pale flower growing among dead black leaves.

  I slip on a black shirt that clings to my torso and slips off my shoulders no matter how many times I yank the fabric up.

  The girl holds up her hands and adjusts the outfit, tugging here and smoothing there. She adds a silver belt and a long strand of diamonds, then fluffs a few of my damp curls. Standing back to look at me, she nods and disappears to her room.

  Briefly I wonder if I could pay her to find my old clothing.

  While I was bathing, someone placed a large tray of food on the glass table. I inhale the steam and spices and floral notes, my stomach rumbling like one of the small earthquakes everyone’s been talking about. I flop onto the couch, a respectable distance from my new roommate.

  “Better?” Lexan smiles at me, and it is such a genuine smile that I answer it without thinking. “You look…nice.” His eyes drift down to the slit at my legs and I tug impatiently at the fabric again.

  “These rugs are strange - I can’t hear anyone coming,” I observe, turning away from his eyes. I busy myself dipping a spoon into a dish and tasting.

  “Every one of those dishes is amazing,” Lexan laughs. “I don’t think I’ve ever been this full!”

  I smile as I eat, and for a few minutes, the world seems almost normal.

  Then I remember I am a prisoner, however well-treated. The girl serving us is forbidden to talk. The man keeping us here is more likely to murder the people I love just to see how it affects me than to listen to the bargain I want to offer him. And on top of everything, I feel half-naked and I’m sharing a bedroom with Lexan.

  I feel him watching me again and I force myself to meet his eyes.

  “Trea…” he whispers. His hand reaches toward me, falling a few inches from mine on the velvet of the couch. I wait.

  Then he seems to make a decision and his whole body moves at once, so fast I drop my spoon to the floor. But then Lexan is holding me so tightly, his arms wrapped around me like he will never let go.

  “I thought I’d failed. When they put us in those stone rooms, I thought…you were gone,” he whispers in my ear. His breath is hot on my bare neck and I pat his back awkwardly, unsure of how to respond, although my body relaxes and responds like it recognizes him. Like it was expecting this contact - expecting to fit so completely against his body.

  He pulls back enough to see my face and I notice the water that pools in the corners of his beautiful eyes. It spills over and before I know what I’m doing, my fingers catch the tiny droplets and spirit them away. His eyes flicker closed, then slowly back up.

  “I’m so glad I’m here,” he says, dropping his arms and leaning back an acceptable distance. The comment is so strange and unexpected that I giggle nervously, and he smiles, the strange tension broken. “I mean, in the same room. Of course, I’ll sleep on the couch. But I’m not losing you in this palace, Trea. We’ve come so far, but Tartarus will be our hardest test yet, I think.”

  I know he is right, and I’m secretly glad he is here too, because I will feel better knowing he is close: since the day we left Asphodel, we haven’t been farther away than a wall or a closed door. And without Stian, without knowing what has become of him and Zarea, I’m not ashamed to take what comfort I can get.

  Nearly as soon as I finish eating, a masked guard comes to collect us. He ignores our questions. Is nobody in this palace allowed to speak? We follow him just as silently down the hallways, white on white on white, although the shadows cast from the darkening windows create pockets of black and corners of dark gray.

  We pause again in front of the throne room, and I watch the guard perform the patterned ritual to open the door. I watch closely, trying to memorize the motions.

  Inside the room, the curtains have been fastened back to allow a cool evening breeze. I see a vast network of stars through the windows. Although electricity lights the hallways and our room, in here sconces are spaced along the walls, lit with actual fire. Fans turn lazily on the ceiling, causing flames and shadows to dance together.

  Lord Hadeon desires the dramatic, then.

  “You look lovely,” a soft voice says over my shoulder, and I turn quickly to see him standing merely two feet away. I never heard him approach, or even saw from which direction he came.

  Lord Hadeon advances and runs a single finger along my naked shoulder. Tiny bumps speckle my skin and I force down a shiver - he will not affect me in any way. “I trust you had dinner? And the clothing obviously fits well.”

  “Yes, thank you,” I say. Lexan nods, but his eyes are narrowed at Hadeon.

  “Please, sit. Have a drink.” He motions to the grouping of couches. There is a low glass table before them, set with three glittering silver goblets, and an open glass container of ruby-colored liquid.

  I accept the glass he hands me, but I barely let the liquid wet my lips. It tastes similar to the sweet wine we had in Asphodel. Lexan sniffs it, then replaces his glass on the table, eyeing it.

  “There’s no poison in it, young man,” Lord Hadeon laughs lightly, pouring his glass from the same container. “Here. Come to the window and see my kingdom.”

  I follow, my long skirt brushing softly over the white marble floor. The stars stretch on forever: there is little in our view to block their twinkling. We are higher than anything else around us, and I can see a good deal of Tartarus’s markets and slums.

  Where are Stian and Zarea now - are they still waiting at the base of the palace, like we planned to do only a few hours ago? Have they found the information we need and are now searching the streets for us? Have they, too, been captured?

  Out of the corner of my eye, I glimpse a large oval structure. I lean slightly out of the window to see it better.

  “Ah. The arena,” Lord Hadeon nods. He beckons and leads me to the opposite wall, where more windows wait. “This is a better place to see that, although perhaps tomorrow we will go a little closer.”

  I take in the monstrous building, suddenly glad I had not drunk any of the wine. Acid wrings up the back of my throat as I begin to make sense of the darkened structures I see.

  The structure is open at the top, as though a giant hand has plucked off the roof. Torches of fire ring the opening, casting enough light to see the rows of benches surrounding the center oval. Inside, four chambers wait like the points of a smashed compass. I see a large animal pacing in one chamber, and a bulky mass of glinting metal in another. The last two seem empty. Between these chambers are endless, winding walls and hidden doorways, forming an impassable maze. At the very center is an open pit.

  “My prisoners have a fair chance in the maze. They might happen luckily upon the weapons room,” Lord Hadeon points to the metal forms. “They might walk unwittingly into the lion’s cage. Or they might find themselves in the curiosity rooms, which are never the same twice. If they make it to the center alive, they are allowed to stand and fight for their freedom.”

  “Does anyone ever win?” Lexan asks.

  Lord Hadeon laughs. “Just because someone is given a fair chance doesn’t mean they will win.”

  “So everyone dies in the arena?” Lexan pushes, glaring at Hadeon.

  Hadeon tilts his head, scrutinizing Lexan. Then he shrugs. “Historically, yes. But I do hope to be surprised one day.”

  “The Destroyer,” I whisper to myself, thinking of how Kedesh had described this man. Despite his genteel manners and fine surroundings, he truly is a monster, and I’ll do well to remember it.

  Hadeon turns to me and smiles beatifically. “Do they still call me that? Wonderful! Here, have a drink.”

  He hands me my cup and nods approvingly as I swallow a bit more.

  “That ruby color is simply mesmerizing against your pale skin,” he says, watching my mouth as I press my lips together against an escaping drop.

  “What do you want with us?” Lexan interrupts, coming to stand slightly in front of me again, as though he could block Lord Hadeon’s intentions in the same way
he can block the man’s view of me.

  “I don’t believe I’ll tell you that tonight.” He tips his goblet back and drains the rest of the wine. When he meets my eyes again, a new luster shines from their black depths. “Would you like to see my favorite toy?” he whispers dramatically to me.

  I don’t answer, knowing he will show us what he wants, when he wants.

  Hadeon laughs and snaps his fingers. I glance toward the door, but it doesn’t open. Instead, a muffled but resonant clicking begins, like gears winding together. The clicking slows and music filters through the throne room, coming from behind the flowered screen to our right. The screen begins to open slowly, wafting the heavy fragrance of the flowers toward us. Soon I can see two servants pushing the sections apart from within. They are dressed in the customary black veil, but their movements are stuttery, as though they are in pain, or their joints aren’t cobbled together correctly.

  A wooden, creaking sound can be heard occasionally beneath the soft notes of the music, then a noise that sounds like metal rolling over stone.

  Lexan’s eyes meet mine just as a large, egg-shaped cage crosses between the now-open screens. It follows the silver channels along the floor: a mysterious machine on a predetermined track. The wooden cage is so intricately carved that it almost looks like lace. Nested at the bottom lies a large form, perhaps an exotic animal. Large silky feathers and plumes of blue, green, and purple drape and overlap to hide its shape and size.

  “A bird?” Lexan guesses.

  Lord Hadeon smiles but doesn’t answer.

  Although the silver track reaches completely around the room, the cage comes to a gentle stop at the edge of our table. I imagine Lord Hadeon amusing guests here while the caged beast circles through the crowds, entertaining as it travels.

  The music winds down then begins anew with a slightly more rhythmic tune. The creature begins to stir and spread its feathers.

  I feel my mouth fall open and stay that way as the feathers slide away from long, slim legs, a slender waist, graceful arms, and long waves of golden blonde hair.