Starbright: The Complete Series

by Hilary Thompson

  Stian nods. “Good.” He sighs and I notice beads of sweat on his temples, although it’s cool here. He looks at me again, and I see uncertainty in his eyes.

  “Something is different. With you,” he says.

  “I…” I don’t know how to say it.

  “You aren’t mine anymore,” he says, swiping a hand over his eyes and leaving it there.

  My silence is enough answer.

  “Although you never really were mine. Not like I wanted. Lexan was always in the corner of your mind.”

  “This isn’t about Lexan. It’s about me.” I struggle for the right words. “I’ve never been just me - before, I was always supposed to partner with Lexan. Then you came along and I was in love with the idea of escaping with you.”

  “Maybe I was the same. I was always escaping something too. We could have made that work, you know. Two fugitives from life.”

  I glance at him and he’s smiling, joking a little. I smile back. This is going so much better than I even hoped.

  “Dying’s no fun, you know.” Stian coughs weakly and then his chest seems to spasm with the pain of the movement.

  I hurry to help him - water, blanket, a hand behind his head. “You’re not healing as well as I’ve been promised. I’ll make sure Hade does better.”

  When he gains his breath, Stian gives me a wry look. “So you’ve charmed him as well? Gotten him to do everything you want?”

  “Not exactly,” I grin, though I can feel a bit of blush creep into my cheeks at how Hade has indeed been doing what I ask, ever since I agreed to help him.

  “Calling him by a pet name. Ordering him around. Bet he’s even tried to kiss you.”

  This time I really do blush and Stian tries to laugh, coughing a bit more.

  “Use him, Tre. Use him like you used me to escape Asphodel.”

  “I didn’t-”

  “Yeah, you did. It’s okay. I would have done the same. I did, remember?”

  “No!” I say, taking his hands in mine. “Stian, you’ve given me so much - things I could never have had without you. You’ll always be my rescuer, my friend.”

  “Just friends isn’t any fun,” he grins, tracing lines on my palms.

  “I don’t have time for fun anymore. People are dying, Stian. It’s time for Justice.”

  “Doesn’t Justice get a day to herself?”

  I sigh. Despite everything, he still can’t take this seriously. “You opened my eyes to a whole world, but I’m not the same innocent girl you remember. We’ve always been too close or too far away from what we need. Never together in the middle.”

  He narrows his eyes at me when I repeat his own words - the words he never knew I heard. “You know I don’t really care if you’re innocent or not, Tre. We could still be together. You promised to be my home…” He looks down, pulling his hands away.

  My heart aches, but not enough to reverse my decision. I know it’s the right one, and I know I can make him see that.

  “I’m not sure that you love me enough, Stian. Not the way you loved Zarea. The way you still love her.”

  “No - that’s done-”

  “Stop trying to fool yourself. Nobody else is fooled. You two belong together. You’ve survived everything except your own stubborn pride. What we had together was good, Stian. Companionship. But surely you know it wasn’t love. Not forever love.”

  He flicks his eyes to mine and away, but he doesn’t contradict me again.

  “Do you remember the day we left Asphodel?” I ask softly. He doesn’t respond. “You held out your hand and asked me to jump. I couldn’t see anything…” My eyes are spilling over with tears now, but I force a smile through them. “You told me to give you my hand. But then you said I should keep my soul.”

  “I remember,” he says, eyes still on the diamond constellation at my temple, just shy of my eyes.

  “Stian, I don’t know a lot about true love. I’ve never had it. But I’ve seen it, I think. And I know that you don’t keep anything back. Love means you give your hand, and you give your heart, and you give your soul. And the other person keeps those things so close and so tight and so precious that you’ve never really lost anything.”

  His fingers are tracing the tattoos on his wrists - missions. Kills. Memories.

  “You’re right. I can’t do that for you. I can’t keep your heart safe. And I don’t know much about saving a soul.”

  I feel my chest tighten as he brings up the other reason I’m here. “There’s something I need to ask you. Something I saw…” I hesitate, again not sure how to proceed - how to ask such a question.

  “Stian, when I saw your soul that night…it’s more black than white. If I’m forced to Judge you again…” I stop, biting my lip.

  “I know,” he says, almost too quiet to hear. “I just got a second chance at life. I promise I won’t screw this up.”

  “What did you do? It has to be more than killing in self-defense.”

  He won’t look at me. “It was more.”

  And that’s all he will say. I wait several more minutes, but he just stares at the wall of his cell. The guard clears his throat and I know it’s time to go.

  “Tre,” he says just as I turn away. I stop. “I’ll be a better person now. Because of you. That has to be Justice.”

  I want to believe him, I really do. But a small chink in my wall has come loose, opening up the dark hole that his veiled admission made. Somehow I need to learn to trust people - to believe in their honesty and good intentions, but it’s getting harder and harder the more I can see.

  Again, I think of Lakessa’s journals - are there people here on this planet worth saving? How can a savior even question such a thing?

  And even if Stian is repentant, will that clear the darkness from his soul?

  “Time’s up,” the guard behind me says.

  “Find Zarea for me,” Stian asks as I stand.

  “Of course. And I’ll get you both out of here. I promise.”

  I bend down and kiss him gently on the cheek. His hand lingers on my cheek.

  “I’ll be seeing you,” he smiles, as though we are simply parting for the night.

  “Yeah,” I smile back, turning to go. “You will.”

  “Tre?” His voice is soft, almost so quiet I don’t hear it. I look back at him, my fingers curled around the iron bars of his door. “Do you think she could forgive me? After all I’ve done?”

  His fingers skitter again across the hash marks on his wrists. “Yes,” I say, my voice harsher than I intended. “Yes, she will. She has to.” And I turn away a final time, before the darkness in my heart tells a different story.

  TWENTY-ONE

  Throughout our city’s mythology, and in much of the scraps of religious texts salvaged from before the Sickness, the number three has shown significance. Three cities. Three sisters who began those cities. The lost prayer that references three different sisters - Justice, Lawfulness, and Peace. The number isn’t obviously tied to our worship of the zodiac, but I can’t help but wonder what else has been lost from what we know of the world? What other trinities do people outside of Asphodel worship?

  Secret Journal of First Leader Firene

  That night, I wake from another dream of Stian. Thankfully, this one did not involve his death or disfiguration. Instead, it was a dream-world worthy of our waking dreams, where we could exist without fear.

  It leaves a bitter taste in my mouth and a hollow ache where I hope my soul is.

  Lexan sleeps on top of the covers next to me, and I am careful not to disturb him as I slip from the bed. The guard who responds to my knocking simply follows me when I push past him and turn in the direction of the throne room.

  Irana is alone and sleeping beneath the cage’s covering. She wakes when I whisper her name, and I tell her all that has happened since the night of the ball.

  “Why can’t I stop thinking about him, when I know it wasn’t love?” I ask, twisting my fingers around the bars of her cage. />
  Irana smiles. “That’s the star in you, Trea. The star who loved mankind so much that she gave up everything to save them. You see the good in people. But, because you are Justice, you also see the bad. And you want to save them from the bad. From the bad inside of themselves.”

  “But while I’m saving everyone else, who will save me,” I whisper. Irana doesn’t hear me or doesn’t answer, and we drift into silence. I used to want to save myself - to be unapologetically selfish. And I still have a huge problem being dependent on anyone.

  But maybe the real truth is that we all save each other - each of us must depend on the others for salvation.

  Nobody can make it alone.

  “But how do you know…” I ask again, still not understanding some vital piece she has given me.

  “I also know how it feels to see the world for what it is, and what it could be.”

  “Are you…a star?” I wonder.

  She shakes her head. “Sometimes I dream about seeing the world from a distance. But I think the gods keep those memories locked away while we’re here on earth.”

  “You really believe in the gods and the stars…and everything, don’t you?”

  “Yes. Why don’t you?”

  I still can’t answer that question. After all I’ve been through - discovering my power, learning how to see a soul - I still feel as though the experience is a dream.

  “Perhaps it’s not the story you can’t believe. Perhaps it’s your own part in the story that seems false to you.”

  I snap my eyes to Irana. She smiles, knowing she has opened my eyes.

  “I can’t save these people, Irana.” There it is - the heart of my disbelief.

  “Yes. You can. You will. Now go back to your Lexan.” She yawns and stretches, settling back into her strange nest of feathers and gauze. I’m not sure what to make of her comment - my Lexan - but she’s evidently done talking for the night.

  I pad back to my room, followed by the silent guard. Slipping beneath the covers, I can see Lexan’s chest rise and fall gently in the pale moonlight. I close my eyes against his perfect nearness. He seems so natural in his role of Balance, with his powers over the air and his ability to charm people.

  Maybe if I could just save one person, I would feel like I fit in my role. But everyone I touch seems to end up hurt.

  In the morning, Hade bursts open the door of the room, trailed by servants bearing trays of food. We haven’t eaten in the throne room since the ball, but last night I saw how it’s been repaired and readied for our arriving guests.

  He slides a smirk at Lexan, who is lounging sleepily on top of the covers. “Today we go to the arena again, and we will be met there by the True Prophet and the Three Sisters. They are my guests, and you will perform for them.” His voice holds no room for argument.

  I make an ugly noise in my throat and rub my eyes.

  “Lexan, I expect you to be a chaperone. The Sisters do enjoy male attention. Astrea and I will await the party at the arena pavilion.”

  “Why?” I ask.

  “Because I want it that way,” Hade returns, his words short. I wonder if he is nervous.

  “Because it makes for a better show of power if they have to continue to travel to see him even once they’ve arrived in Tartarus,” Lexan adds.

  Hade scowls but nods his agreement. “Right as usual, my young Libran.”

  And so Hade takes me to the arena first. When we arrive, the pavilion is empty. I wander to the edge, looking down on the massive maze and the rows of tiered seating that surround it. As my eyes follow potential paths in the maze below, the doors open for the citizens to enter, and the arena fills quickly.

  Everyone in Tartarus has heard of my power and wants to see me, as well as the Three Sisters and True Prophet. Everyone in Tartarus will be here today. I pull a section of the curtain closed, blocking their view.

  When I turn around, Hade is only inches away. He smooths the thin black fabric of my tunic dress, daring to adjust the silver belt cinching my waist. His hands arrange my curls and a finger slips under my chin, pulling my face toward his.

  “You will give me this Judgment, Astrea. You will find your darkness here, in the arena. Or your playmates will die, one by one.”

  I try to shift away, but his grasp tightens. “As you wish, Lord Hadeon.” Today, the game is his to rule.

  “So formal again. Do you not think of me as a friend?”

  “Friends don’t kill each other’s friends.”

  “True. But enemies don’t revive each other’s friends.”

  “What are we, then?” I ask, already weary of this word play.

  “Less than enemies. More than friends. And darling, there is one other thing I require of you today,” he says, his voice demanding obedience.

  He lets go of my chin but advances until his hips pin me to the column and I am breathless in thinking that only a layer of white fabric separates us from the whole world watching. His hands slip down to my waist and pull me into him, so close I can barely breathe. I don’t dare meet his eyes, closing mine as his mouth slashes across mine, bruising my lips.

  A heat builds within me, but it is not the heat of desire. Rather, it is one of rage. I think of my promise to kill him and I begin to smile against his lips.

  Hade reacts with a small laugh as he breaks away long enough to pry my fingers from his throat - where I hadn’t even realized they had gone.

  “That wasn’t very nice, Astrea.” He transfers both of my hands to one of his, holding me easily. His other hand secures itself in my hair and yanks backward just enough to force my chin up. His mouth brushes along my jawline, then comes to rest at the hollow of my neck.

  The fire within my body roars and I wonder if it’s possible for me to spontaneously combust and turn him to ash.

  “Your fire does nothing but make me want you more,” Hade whispers in my ear, releasing my hands just in time for Lexan to step onto the pavilion, trailed by Charon and an assemblage of pale-haired people I’ve never seen.

  I can tell by the look on Lexan’s face that he has seen enough of Hade’s work. I remember his words to me - Not him, Trea. Please not him.

  And it will never be Hade, although I can sense new tendrils of darkness inside me now, itching beneath the skin Hade touched. His unsanctioned kisses have reawakened the same fury I felt when the guard attacked me.

  The darkness frightens me because I know it shouldn’t be there. The Lady of Justice must not fear, even when she is in danger. The Lady of Justice must keep the Balance between the darkness and the light.

  Once I’ve started to play with darkness, I’m afraid I won’t be able to stop. Once darkness enters, it’s too hard to eradicate.

  “You will be my Judge,” Hade says just before he steps forward to greet his guests.

  “Yes,” I answer, although I doubt he hears me. He doesn’t need to, as he’s already demonstrated.

  By the end of the afternoon, I have condemned six more people to die in the arena. I have pardoned one. Hade seems pleased.

  Throughout this show, the Three Sisters have watched my every movement, as I have watched theirs. They never speak to me, and rarely to anyone else.

  They are a spectacularly frightening trio, but it’s difficult to discern why.

  My first glances saw only pale hair and floating dresses, but really there are so many shades of color. The youngest sister is delicate, her beauty coming from her graceful nature. Her hair is the palest shade of yellow - not blonde like Isa’s, but a buttery, creamy gold. Her eyes are a startling shade of blue, matching the wide open sky above our pavilion. She smiles at me once, which is more than her sisters do.

  The middle sister has lavender hair. I’ve never seen anything like it, and I stare so much that Hade leans to murmur in my ear that I must stop. Her eyes are always downcast, watching her hands play with the intricate beading of her lavender dress. As the afternoon wears on, she rips the strands of beads apart one by one. Her slender fingers co
llect the tiny beads and bits of string, slowly restringing them into a fringed collar for her dress.

  The oldest sister is the most severe - she slices everyone’s gaze with her own, and no one dares meet her eyes for more than a second. Even Hade. Her hair blends all the shades of palest orange and red - a washed-out version of my own flames. Her skin is tired and worn too, although she can’t be many years older than Stian and Zarea.

  The True Prophet is a stark, benign contrast. His skin is tawny and his black hair is slicked back from his forehead, creating a wide open space. I remember Lexan telling me how long ago, people believed large foreheads were signs of intelligence. If this is true, the Prophet is the smartest person I’ve ever seen.

  We linger long after the events of the arena are over. Hade is enjoying entertaining his guests with stories of my capture and training. When I hear the beginning of the guard story, I rise and walk to the edge of the pavilion.

  Slaves are busy cleaning the mess from the maze - collecting used weapons and throwing sand over the spots of blood on the ground. Guards watch them, occasionally striking a slower one.

  “Lady Justice,” a voice grates into my ear. I turn to see the Prophet, accompanied by a freckled boy servant. The servant holds a wide sunshade above the Prophet’s head, keeping the bright rays out of his master’s eyes.

  “What shall I call you?” I ask. He sneers a bit as if it’s an uncouth question, but I don’t really care. They have come all this way to see me, after all. Hade pretends it is a normal visit, but they are far too interested in my powers for that to be true.

  “Some call me Grace, some Honor. There are other names behind my back which I won’t repeat.”

  “Well, then, Your Grace. It seems we have something in common.”

  “May I see your fire?”

  I open a flame in my palm, wondering why none of them, especially Hade, has requested this yet.

  “And there is more than that?” he questions. The servant shifts as the clouds cover the sun.