Starbright: The Complete Series

by Hilary Thompson

  His screams as I burned the evil from him.

  “The prisoner will face the arena for his crime!” I say, slamming the door of memory. My voice is so loud in the microphone that it echoes from each rounded side of the arena, bouncing back to my own ears all too soon.

  The crowd screams in what I think is assent.

  The man is shoved into the maze.

  I move to sit, but Hade steps behind me again, blocking my way. “You must stay and watch your Justice enacted, my Lady. It is only good manners.”

  I try to blink away as the man runs from corridor to corridor, desperately seeking a way out. The blackness of his soul seems to trail after him as he runs, and I wonder if I’m going insane, or at least becoming overheated.

  He misses the lion’s den, but he also bypasses the weapons room, leaving the two curiosity rooms. Several torturous minutes pass as the crowd screams directions at him and he sprints, growing more frantic and fatigued with every step. He is soon hopelessly lost, and just as I try to shut my eyes against the scene before me, a roar erupts from the crowd.

  The man has opened the door to a curiosity room, and for his effort, he has been speared by bolts from three different crossbows - one in his leg, one in his chest, and one in his neck. He slumps, suspended as he dies, trapped by the ropes that string him up.

  Hade presses closer to my back and leans forward.

  “He deserved that, and more, for what he did to that girl,” he says in my ear. His voice is so soft that I know no one else can hear. “For him, Justice was death.”

  The surety in his voice somehow soothes the nagging doubts I’ve had that demanding a person’s life is unjust. After all, if a person willfully hurts or kills another person, shouldn’t they be hurt or killed in exchange? Hade’s fingers stretch across my lower back again, and where his skin touches mine, a strange sense of darkness seems to linger.

  I turn away from the arena, even though it brings me face to face with him.

  “Can we go?” I ask. He lowers his chin to meet my eyes and he watches me, judging the Judge.

  “As you wish.”

  The guard draws the curtains again, and we are led down the stairs and to the carriage. The ride back to the palace is silent. I don’t know where to look, so I close my eyes against the hot sun and probing glances of Lexan and Hade.

  As we enter the palace courtyard, Hade asks, “Do you know what they used to call this city? Hundreds of years ago? The city of sin.”

  “That must be why you like it so much,” Lexan says.

  He smiles. “Indeed. That’s why I chose it, actually.”

  “Chose?” I ask, wondering what he could mean. He wasn’t even alive when the location and name of Tartarus was chosen.

  He only nods. “Take them to their room,” he tells the nearest guard. I glance back as we are led away, and he is watching me with the strangest smile. I shiver beneath his gaze and the smile grows.

  As soon as the door to our room closes, Ama is there, fairly vibrating with excitement. She holds out her hands and the metal bird waits there for us. We crowd around the screen, and I watch so many faces. So many people arrested in only one day. But none of the prisoners are Stian or Zarea.

  “So they aren’t in any of the prisons?” I ask. Ama shakes her head, still smiling.

  “Does that mean they were released?” Lexan wonders. She starts to nod. “Or could they have been taken to the arena?” She shrugs, then shakes her head, a frown beginning to overtake the smile.

  “Hopefully just released,” I say. Surely they wouldn’t be taken directly to the arena. It must take longer than one day.

  The door begins to open just then, and Ama scurries to hide the bird in her room. Commander Charon enters.

  “So you’ve judged your first prisoner?” he asks, though it isn’t really a question.

  I nod, keeping my eyes away from his. Ever since the incident with the guard, I’m hesitant to maintain eye contact and risk transferring bravery to anyone.

  He turns in a circle as though inspecting the room. “Lexan, you are to report to your regular training room. Work on the whirlwinds we began yesterday. I’ll collect you when I’m ready. Astrea, follow me.”

  EIGHTEEN

  December 21, 2067

  Mother is dead. She carried a bag to the market for our rations and came home in a bag - carrying a ration of pain. I haven’t cried. She has borne so much loss that I actually feel relieved that she has gone somewhere else. Whether she’s in a happy, golden heaven, or a gray, misty land of nothingness, at least she isn’t here in hell on earth. Clota hasn’t cried either. She thinks we would all be better dead. Aisa hasn’t stopped crying. She thinks nobody should ever die.

  From First Leader Lakessa’s private journal

  Included in Firene’s secret papers

  “Darling, yesterday has convinced me that you are ready.” Hade announces as he interrupts our breakfast the next morning.

  “Ready?” I echo, sucking the juice from an orange segment. My head is foggy from hours of calling fire the previous afternoon.

  “There is to be a new trial and Judgment. You will preside as my Lady of Justice.”

  “When?” I ask, nerves beginning to twist themselves around my waist and lower back, squeezing my stomach. I glance at Lexan and see the fear in his eyes as well.

  “Tonight. At the ball I’m throwing in our honor.” With that, Hade rises and swishes out the door, his white robe flashing its silver embroidery. I don’t have time to ask him why he used the word our.

  Somehow I know this Judgment will be much different than the one yesterday.

  Breakfast is done - I can’t possibly eat after this news. My stomach clenches and my palms are cold, as though my fire is withdrawing. Lexan is directed to the training room and Ama leads me to the bath. She takes great care, buffing and polishing my skin and nails. She spends forever trying to tame my hair before finally letting it cascade down my back. It nearly reaches my waist. My gray eyes are lined with black and swept with silvery gray powder. My lips are rubbed with an orange-red stick, and they end up looking bloodied.

  Then she brings the gown and spreads it across the bed, using a hot flat-iron to steam every hint of wrinkle from the fabric. I think of Hade’s constant adjustment of his own clothing, and I want to crush the dress into a ball of wrinkles.

  I think of the only other gown I have worn - for my Choosing Day. The day my life changed forever. I wore red, and I felt I could combust and consume the crowd.

  Today I do not feel that way.

  I imagine myself another doll on display, like Irana. I will be placed on a pedestal, posed, and propped. I will be given a trial and a test and I will fail. For whatever it is Hade has in store for me, I will not be as dark as he desires. This much has been shown to me.

  I undress and allow Ama to slip the dress around me, to zip the back, to lead me to the mirror.

  But I am not prepared for how naked I look. The dress is black lace and silver lace and bare in so, so many places. The fabric is so light that my every curve and bone is open for all to see.

  As I stand immobile in front of the mirror, the door opens and Lexan walks in, wiping his face with a towel. His shirt is stained through with sweat. He sees me and stumbles, dropping the towel. Ama rushes to retrieve it, and Lexan doesn’t even notice. His eyes are fixed to me.

  “What is this?” he manages.

  I wrap my arms around myself, trying in vain to cover my nakedness. I shake my head, tears forming in my eyes. I feel ashamed, as though I’ve already done something to disappoint everyone. I press my fingers to the corners of my eyes, trying not to ruin Ama’s hard work on my makeup.

  My arms are shaking as Lexan gives me an awkward hug. His hands don’t seem to know where to land, as everywhere he touches is essentially bare skin. I give in and sag against his chest, our closeness giving me the air I need to finally breathe and find my center.

  To find my Balance.

  “I
’ll talk to Hade. This is not how people need to see you,” Lexan says when I’ve mastered my emotions. I notice that finding that Balance didn’t actually take long at all, once Lexan was there.

  I push back from him a bit and shake my head. “We can’t afford to anger Hade right now. I’ll just do what he says a little longer.”

  “Trea-” he begins.

  Then Ama grabs my arm and speaks for the first time. “I hep oo,” she whispers, then darts out of the room. I stare after her, blinking in surprise.

  Once we’re alone, Lexan grins. “You know, it’s not a bad dress. But I wouldn’t want you to leave this room.”

  I smack at his chest, pushing him farther away. His hand trails along my bare shoulder blades, tangled with my curls.

  “You’d better go see your costume,” I say, leering as though I know what Hade has prepared. Lexan’s eyes grow wide and he pivots, nearly running toward the bath.

  Ama returns with only a tiny scrap of black, but when it’s layered underneath the lace, it covers all the parts of me, without really altering the design of the dress.

  “Thank you so much,” I say, hugging her. She stiffens at first, as though she hasn’t been touched like this in a long time. And maybe she hasn’t. I squeeze her closer and thank her again.

  Just then a guard comes to collect me. Lexan is not ready, so I go alone.

  Hade says nothing when he sees the dress, but I notice the interest in his eyes at the change. I try again to remind myself that he is always playing - I don’t know if I have won or lost this round, but he seems amused at how I’ve played back.

  He offers me a bubbly drink in a sparkling glass, and draws me along with him. We circle the throne room, walking between the round, white-skirted tables. There is an open corridor from the door to the windows, and more space in the middle for dancing. I can see Irana’s track winding through the tables, and I wonder if we will see her dance tonight. The throne room soon begins to fill with fancy clothes topped by laughing heads, and Hade introduces me to person after person, moving too quickly for me to do more than murmur a hello.

  In truth, I am grateful for the speed. I have nothing to say to these people. Their gowns and coats are all shades of black and white and silver and gray. The only color in the whole room seems to come from the slash of mouths and the narrowing of eyes, from the tinkling of glass and silver, and from the scent of oranges and tobacco that lingers as long as Hade is by my side.

  I glimpse Lexan through the pairs and quartets of visitors. Several women vie for his attention, and I notice how he has slipped into the old Lexan - the one I now realize was a role he played. He is playing it very well tonight.

  “You are truly beautiful to watch,” Hade whispers in my ear when a trio of men finally leave us for the table of drinks. “You can see it, can’t you. I can tell by your downward glances. The tremble of your bottom lip.”

  I bite my bottom lip, stopping the tremble. “See what?” My voice sounds irritable, but not fearful. I glance around the party, wondering what he means.

  “Just watch them for a moment.”

  The people mill around me in their white and black and shades of gray. I watch for anything out of the ordinary. A woman passes, and it crosses my mind that she has lived a good life. Then a pair of men walks toward the window next to us, and I shrink away as if I know they might hurt me.

  “You see?” Hade prompts.

  I don’t, but my brain is slow, unfocused.

  “Only Justice can Judge a person’s life. Try something for me.”

  I take a deep breath and his gaze lingers on my chest. I glare at him.

  “Close your eyes. I’ll be right here. No, don’t walk. Just watch.”

  “How can I watch with my eyes closed?”

  “Just try, darling.”

  Another deep breath, and I close my eyes. Hade’s arm doesn’t leave mine as I wait for the room to settle into my other senses. His familiar scent of orange is sharper now, and the clink of glass on teeth more grating.

  But then I start to see what he suspects.

  Behind my eyelids, spots of darkness begin to appear - definitely not a mirage here inside the palace. The spots move around, milling as the people do. They swirl and twist their way into the actual shapes of people, moving around the room. Gradually I see the light as well.

  “What is that?” I whisper, whipping my eyes open. Hade is only inches away, his eyes black and smiling.

  Hade smiles and laughs, drawing a bit more attention.

  “There is light in every person, and dark, Astrea. Can you see that now?”

  I shut my eyes again, and gasp as the meaning of what I see becomes clear: souls spill out of the people, onto their arms, winding around their pale throats. I am Lady Justice, and I can see the colors of souls. I can close my eyes and Judge a person by how much darkness has entered them.

  “Haven’t you seen the ancient paintings of Justice?” Hade interrupts my internal panicked wonder.

  I look back to him and shake my head, and he leads me to an alcove near the wall of windows and breezy white curtains. He points at a painting tucked into a corner. A woman, draped in white fabric and blindfolded, holds a scale in one hand and a sword in the other. Her wild curls blow about her and flow down her back. Her hair is not as red as mine, but I can’t miss the similarity.

  A curtain blows around us, shrouding our bodies from the room for a moment. I feel Hade’s fingers trail across my shoulders as he moves to grasp the edge of the drape.

  I feel his strange dark electricity in my skin again and wonder why he has so much patience with me now. He was so full of rage and calculation on that first day of training. Something has changed. As my powers have grown, Hade has become more like a friend than a tyrant.

  More like a man interested in a woman than a ruler interested in a weapon.

  I see it in his eyes - the same way Stian looks at me. Funny how all I can think about is how I’m still too innocent for his interest, too soft to play at Justice, and too weak to be strong enough for these battles.

  “Lord Hadeon?” I begin, nerves bringing back my polite tone.

  “Hade,” he corrects, pulling the curtain from us. The silky fabric draws a shiver from my skin. He pulls my arm closer and leads me to a table for dinner.

  “Yes, Hade. What is it – from me, that is – what is it that you want?”

  “Shall I make a list for you? Or just show you…” His eyes wander down the front of my dress, pausing between my breasts, then journey back up to linger at my lips. The gaze is so intense it’s almost like a touch, and I have to fight for breath for my next words. He pulls out my chair and I sit obediently.

  “Do you only want my innocence? To turn my white into black?” I ask, plunging to the heart of my anxiety.

  He tears his eyes from my mouth and focuses on my faltering gaze. “Why would I want innocence? Just to destroy it?”

  “I…I don’t know. But before, I’ve been told, I mean…”

  “A past lover has enjoyed your naiveté?” he asks, arching an eyebrow.

  I nod slightly, thinking of Stian, and Pallis before him, who only wanted me for the challenge of having me. “Surely I could never compare to the ladies here at court.” A bowl of clear soup is placed before me, but I have no desire to touch it.

  Hade laughs, low and dark, and the vibration somehow finds its way to the pit of my stomach. “No, Astrea, I don’t want you for your innocence. I could have that quite easily, from anyone.”

  He touches a finger to my jaw, tracing the line of it down to my neck, and I can barely breathe for fear and dark thoughts. I want to run from him and jump into his arms at the same time.

  He slips his fingers behind my neck and pulls me closer, placing his mouth just at the curve of my ear. “Darling, I want you for your darkness.”

  I startle and pull back, confusion pulling my face into a scowl. “But I’m not dark,” I say, thinking of Keirna and the things Hade has shown me in th
e arena. I’m not like that.

  I’ve shown that I can find the evil in people and fight it, but I don’t seek the darkness for myself. I grip at the stem of my water glass, too shaky to drink.

  Hade smiles again and his eyes glint in amusement. “Oh, you have quite a bit of darkness in you. I can feel its pull. You have light, and it burns me a little to touch you, but you have darkness as well, buried deep within.”

  His hands grip my upper arms and twist me to face him, my chair scraping against his and my skin pinching in his grasp. “The Lady of Justice is not merciful, Astrea. She sees good and evil. Black and white.” He nods at me even as I shake my head. “You need my hands to find your black. That is what I want from you. That is what I was made for - my part in the prophecy. I must pull your darkness to the surface, so you may be truly Just when the world is ready for Judgment.”

  I stare blankly into his amber eyes, absorbing this request. I’ve been holding myself apart from Hade, and others like Keirna, thinking I was somehow better than them - of a higher moral character. But perhaps I will need to understand them to become the Maiden.

  If I am to choose between good and evil, right and wrong, surely I must know and quickly recognize the differences. I can see the black and white of souls now, but what of the gray? I must see the darkness for what it is, and burn it to light.

  “Shall we dance now?” Hade asks, as music begins to rise over the sound of spoons against bowls.

  I allow him to grasp my hand and pull me to my feet. He swirls me to the dance floor and grips my waist tightly as he guides me in a traditional dance. His cape floats and twists around us as we spin and step, and I feel as though his darkness is already rooting itself in my heart. I gaze at him, feeling not at all innocent. The music swells and he bends me backward into a low dip, his fingers trailing along my collarbone.

  When I rise to meet him again, his lips press to my neck briefly and every part of my body sings in a dark, sultry chorus.