A War of Swallowed Stars

by Sangu Mandanna

I jerk my head, trying to blink the vision away. Why did it come back to me now? It means nothing. That future vanished when Sorsha died.

  Didn’t it?

  When I dare to look at them again, it’s the here and now again. Max’s voice is hoarse as he speaks, so low I almost can’t hear him. “Just in case this goes badly—”

  “Don’t,” Esmae says, a hitch in her breath. “We’re going to be fine.”

  They look at each other for a long moment, and then Max kisses her, an almost desperate kiss that makes me look away again.

  “Remember,” he says, the last words I hear. “Light the stars up.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  Esmae

  It’s quiet outside the palace. The solar lamps in the sky are halfway to sunset, just a few hours from shifting into moonlight, and the rooftops of the city below, the cobbled paths, and the thorn forests all look like they’ve been painted with gold.

  The silence would be peaceful, if it wasn’t so chilling. There’s no birdsong, no chatter drifting up from the city streets, no footsteps. There’s just the hum of the base ship’s engines far below us, and the hum of our warships’ engines high above us.

  We wait. The palace is empty, apart from Titania and Sebastian. Rickard is still there, too, but I suppose he doesn’t count, does he? The thought makes my chest hurt.

  A third of our forces are in the sky, in almost a hundred ships, including all of the Wych soldiers and most of the Hundred and One. The rest of us are here, on foot and in chariots at the palace gates, looking down the tiers of the city, watching the wooded paths and roads that could spit out an army at any moment. Around me, I see Max, Sybilla, Elvar, General Khay, Laika, and so many other faces I’ve come to know over this past year. How many of us will still be here at the end?

  We wait.

  Radha, the servants, the palace children, and anyone else who wanted shelter should all be safe behind the university’s ancient, solid doors by now. Guinne refused to go with them in the end, choosing instead to stay with a handful of doctors and servants who also refused to go. Instead, they’ve set up a makeshift medical clinic behind a wall of soldiers in the palace courtyard.

  Beside me, Elvar is very pale. He’s been displaying nothing but confidence, insisting on presenting himself as a strong and calm king, but I know him well enough to see the beads of sweat dampening his blindfold, the way his hands tremble ever so slightly, and his too-tight grip on his sword.

  “You don’t have to do this, Uncle,” I say quietly.

  “Yes,” he says, without hesitation, “I do. This is my kingdom to protect, even from my own nephew. I cannot let you, Max, and the rest of my people die in my stead.”

  “How about none of us does any dying?”

  Elvar’s throat moves as he says, “Bear is dead.”

  “Yes.”

  “Cassel’s beloved boy, gone. Because of my ambition, because of my desperate need to prove myself to the ghost of a mother who hasn’t been here for a very long time.”

  “Because of many things,” I insist, thinking of my great-grandmother, alone in the Night Temple, convinced that she was the cause of our family’s destruction.

  “If I could take it back, I would.”

  “I know,” I say gently.

  There’s a crackle in my ear, the sound of my earpiece activating, and Titania’s voice comes through: “They’re coming.”

  Above us, our ships begin to fire. The sky explodes in bursts of light.

  And all hell breaks loose.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  Radha

  The idea that I would hide somewhere safe, while my friends and the girl I happen to be madly in love with fight a battle that could kill them, is almost laughably absurd.

  As a stream of people make their way quickly into the university, I slip away, my heart pounding so hard it hurts. I’m not a fool. I know I can’t fight. I may be able to stab a grown man with a knitting needle but put any other weapon in my hands and I’m a disaster. I have no intention of making my way into the battle.

  But there’s something else I can do.

  I take the smaller, winding paths back to the rear of the palace, where I’m unlikely to bump into anyone, friend or enemy. I’m sure Titania and Sebastian can see me, if they’re looking at the right tech feeds, but if they have, they haven’t told the others that I’m not where I said I’d be.

  It’s not that I want to keep this a secret. It’s just that I know that if Sybilla finds out I’m not safe inside the university, she’ll be distracted worrying about me and it might get her killed. And I don’t want to tell Esmae or Max what I’m about to do either, not when there’s a chance, a very, very good chance, that it might not work. I can’t let them go into this battle relying on a scheme that might fail.

  I make my way into the palace kitchens through the servants’ quarters then look for the dock. The yawning, tunneled exit has been sealed, so that no ships can go in or out, but the door leading from inside the palace to the shipyard is still usable.

  Outside, there’s a boom that makes me jump. Oh, god. It’s started.

  I run the rest of the way to the dock. Apart from a handful of supply ships, which are entirely useless in battle, there’s only one ship left in the dock: the one belonging to the royal house of Wychstar.

  After Father killed Rickard, and the klaxon went off, there was no time to decide what to do with Father. The only thing to do was have Rodi barricade Father and himself in the royal ship until there was time.

  Which is very convenient for me right now.

  Punching in the familiar code to make the ship doors hiss open, I march inside. I find Father and Rodi in the galley, Rodi trying to press a mug of hot tea into Father’s hands.

  “Radha, what are you doing here?” Rodi demands, looking appalled to see me. “You’re supposed to be somewhere safe, not wandering around in the middle of a battle!”

  I ignore him, addressing my father. “You weren’t King Darshan today,” I say. “You weren’t the king of Wychstar, a widower, a father of four. You were Ek Lavya.”

  His eyes meet mine at the sound of the name, full of anguish and weariness, but he doesn’t speak.

  “Now I need you to be Lavya again,” I say.

  “Radha,” Rodi protests.

  I hold up a hand to stop him. “You will do this for me, Father. Because you have used me, tricked me, and lied to me. Because you love me. And because I know your heart is good when it’s not choked by hate. So you will do this for me. You will become Ek Lavya one last time.”

  There’s a moment of fraught silence, and then Father says quietly, “What would you have me do?”

  The corners of my mouth lift in a smile. “We’re going back to where this started, Father,” I tell him. “And you’re going to skewer the eye of a fish.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  Titania

  All I can see is thunder, fire, and the shine of steel. Alexi and two or three thousand of his soldiers found somewhere in the city to land and have stormed the palace on foot, just like Esmae predicted, while the rest of his fleet has stayed high in the sky to distract our fleet and fire down on us from above. If I could get the inner shield back up and working, I could cut them off from us and maybe give us a chance, but manipulating technology is beyond me now.

  Everything’s happening so fast that there is barely a moment to breathe. My head snaps this way and that, from one screen to another, as Sebastian and I try frantically to keep track of everyone we love as they are scattered into the ugly, bloody chaos of battle.

  Meanwhile, I’m also keeping an eye on the forces coming from Elba, Shloka, and Skylark, all still hours away. I want to scream in frustration. Without them, we are at the mercy of Alexi’s ships in the sky. Without them, we’re hopelessly outnumbered.

  And with Leila Saka in charge of Alexi’s army, the battle on the ground is nothing short of a massacre.

  Alexi’s fleet fires relentlessly, while our ships fi
re back. With each boom of gunfire, with each flash of light, the palace trembles, like it knows what’s coming and it’s afraid.

  Amba, in her celestial battle gear, is a creature of glory in the middle of ugliness. Though mortal and weakened, she has experience, brilliance, and skill on her side, and her sword sparkles like starlight, moving so fast that it seems like enemies are scarcely able to touch her before they drop.

  A howl in the distance, and then three enormous wolves leap into the fray, their chests heaving with growls, sending Alexi’s soldiers scattering in terror. Elsewhere, on another screen, Sybilla darts in and out of the battle like a devil, small, wickedly sharp twin knives in her hands, leaving blood behind.

  “King Elvar!”

  I turn quickly at the sound of Sebastian’s yelp, and I see that Elvar is on the ground, his armor shredded, his shirt soaked with blood, while a pair of soldiers in Alexi’s colors tower over him.

  I start to shout a warning into Esmae’s earpiece, but she’s already there. A blink of an eye, and the soldiers crumple like puppets whose strings have been cut, and Esmae is kneeling beside Elvar.

  “Cassel’s nose,” Elvar rasps hoarsely, his hand stroking Esmae’s face. “I will tell him you send your love.”

  “You’re not going to see him just yet, Uncle.” Putting her fingers between her teeth, she lets out a piercing whistle that summons two of the Hundred and One to her side almost immediately. “Take the king to the clinic. He needs medical attention at once.”

  As they haul Elvar off to get him the help he needs, I look for Max, scanning the screens until I find him, running to help Juniper. Soldiers come at him as he runs, but he miraculously dodges all of them, never faltering in his breakneck race to keep Juniper from getting killed. I think it’s just wildly good luck, at first, but then I see a small bird following Max, trilling in his ear. Tyre, I assume.

  Sybilla darts across another screen, one of her knives missing. She passes General Khay, who is in a throng of enemies. Ilara crushes a soldier’s windpipe with her mechanical arm, but they just keep coming and coming. There are so many of them.

  Two of our ships go down in flames. In the sky, the fleet comes closer.

  Elsewhere, the rumbling roar of a beast draws my attention to Laika, the raksha demon, who is in her powerful lion form as she springs at Leila Saka’s throat. General Saka dodges, fast and lithe as a snake, and her face is unafraid, even giddy, as she drives her sword down at Laika’s head.

  Laika growls and knocks General Saka’s arm aside with one massive paw, but then there’s another dagger, a yowl, and Laika crumples.

  Esmae runs to her, bending over the enormous, silent lion. “Laika,” I hear her cry, “Laika, can you hear me?”

  But Laika is gone. Even on a screen, I can see that she’s completely still. Esmae stands and turns to face General Saka, trembling with fury. A smile twitches across the older woman’s face, as if she’s been waiting for this battle for a very long time.

  “She’d still be alive if I’d killed you in the snow,” Leila taunts, gesturing at the lion.

  Snarling, Esmae leaps at her.

  With a prosthetic thumb on her right hand and a less trained left hand, Esmae is not quite able to fight the way she used to, and so she and Leila Saka are more or less evenly matched. They dance and dodge around each other, both favoring quick, darting blows over brute strength, and their swords clash over and over.

  Then, out of the corner of my eye, I see something on another screen that makes my heart sink like a stone.

  Sybilla is cornered. And not just by anyone.

  By Alexi.

  She doesn’t stand a chance.

  “Sybilla’s in trouble!” I shout into Esmae’s earpiece, making her startle. “Alexi has her! You have to help her!”

  Max steps up to Esmae’s side, his dark eyes fixed on Leila Saka. As she strikes, he blocks her blow. “Go,” he says to Esmae.

  “Is Juniper okay?”

  “She’s fine. Just a scratch.” Max angles his sword again. “Go save Sybilla. I can handle Leila.”

  “Can you?” General Saka asks, pausing to cock her head to one side curiously. “Then it is time, young prince, to see if you are better than your teacher.”

  With only the briefest hesitation, Esmae turns and runs.

  And all I can do is watch, completely useless once again, as Max faces a bloody, smiling Leila Saka on one screen, and, on another, Esmae confronts her twin brother for the last time.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  Radha

  There is no fish, of course, and no eye to skewer. Just a grid, a switch, and a gap big enough for an arrow.

  My father, brother, and I stand at the top of the north tower. Below us, out of sight somewhere on the other side of the palace, is the battle. High above us are hundreds of small, deadly corpse ships, from both sides, zipping around each other, unleashing thunder and fire as they battle their way past the onslaught of gunfire from our ships. Our far fewer ships.

  “It’s not safe up here,” Rodi says, the wind this high whipping his hair back from his forehead. “If any of the people in Alexi’s ships see us up there, we’re done for.”

  “Then we’d better be quick,” I reply. My teeth are chattering from the cold, but I squint past the sun lamps, at the faint glitter of the glitch in the outer shield, and feel just the smallest spark of hope. “Can you do this, Father?”

  Father’s head is tilted up and his eyes are on the glitch. He’s holding one of the last bows left in the palace armory and an arrow. His stance is lithe, graceful, and completely different from the hunched, weary posture that’s become so familiar. It’s like he can’t hear me, like he can only hear the rustle of the wind, the vibrations of the gunfire, the beat of his own heart. I asked him to be Lavya one last time, and that is what he has done.

  He places the arrow against the nocking point and pulls the bowstring taut. I hold my breath.

  He fires.

  The arrow slices through the air, fast and lethal, and the force of the bowstring snapping back into place makes the wind whip against my cheek. The arrow soars into the sky, so far that we lose sight of it. All we can do is watch the glitch instead, that tiny anomaly on the faintly shimmering outer shield where the failsafe is, and as seconds pass, one after another, I wonder if we failed, if we need to try again, if this is even possible.

  Then there’s a crackle, so faint I wonder if I’m imagining it, the sound of something made out of energy coming back to life. I clutch Rodi’s arm, fingernails digging into his skin, as something starts to spread across the sky, a thin veil of shimmering light, just like the outer shield beyond it.

  The inner shield flickers into place, stranding Alexi’s fleet on the other side.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  Esmae

  “Alex!” I shout.

  He freezes, the blade of his sword just inches from Sybilla’s throat. She’s on the ground, clutching a wound in her side, her face ferocious and defiant as she prepares to die. At the sound of my voice, she turns her head, her eyes going wide. Hope and horror battle each other in her expression.

  Alex’s grey eyes meet mine, hard and glittering. His chest heaves with the adrenaline of battle. I step closer, cautiously now, agonizingly aware of that blade’s proximity to Sybilla. “Let her go,” I say. “We can end this ourselves, you and me. Let her walk away.”

  “Esmae,” Sybilla starts, furious, but I silence her with a look.

  “Alex, let her go.”

  He clenches his jaw, but he gives a curt nod. “Go,” he says.

  “Max needs you,” I say to Sybilla, who stands up, wincing in pain, but makes no move to back away. It’s the only thing I can say that will make her leave me. “Go, Sybilla.”

  Trembling with rage, her white skin covered in a sheen of sweat, she backs away until she’s side by side with me.

  “I love you, Esmae Rey,” she says softly, and leaves.

  I don’t watch her go. I ke
ep my eyes on my brother, who doesn’t take his off me, either. The Golden Bow shines on his back, the bright mirror to the Black Bow on mine. Around us, the noise of the battle seems muted, far away. Bursts of light from the gunfire high above us seem like dust motes in sunlight, not quite real, not quite here. The thorn trees rustle and gusts of wind blow past, chilling the sweat and blood on my skin. But all I see are a pair of gray eyes exactly like mine.

  The end is here, and there’s just us. There are no giants to hide behind, no apocalyptic weapons to balance each other out. Sorsha and Titania, the starsword and the astra, all cleared off the board. Right now, in this moment, it’s just him and me, the twin in the sun and the one in the dark, just as it should have been from the very start.

  Neither of us makes any move to strike. We assess each other, each a mirror of the other as he holds his sword in his right hand and I hold mine in my left. His eyes blaze with something dark and ferocious: hate, perhaps, or wrath, or just determination. I watch every tiny twitch of his muscles, every small rise of his chest as he breathes.

  So, when his sword comes down, mine is already in place to meet it. Steel hisses, a screech that overpowers all other sound, making all the fine hairs on the back of my neck stand. At once, Alex pulls back, striking hard again, and this time I duck the blow, darting around him, driving my sword backward as I go. He dodges and we face each other again.

  Alex and I have never fought like this before, with swords, with intent, but I know how he fights. I studied it for years as a child, back when I admired him and wanted to be like him, and I’ve seen him fight countless times since we met at the competition. He’s an elegant, deliberate warrior, fond of formations and gestures, devoted to sportsmanship. Where I am fast and savage, he is strong and graceful, never flustered, perfectly balanced.

  There is nothing graceful or balanced about the boy in front of me. His strikes are too intense for such an early point in the battle, sweeping wildly, wasting energy. He’ll tire out in minutes. I wonder if that’s because he thinks I’ll be easy to beat quickly, but I dismiss that possibility as soon as I look in his eyes. That madness is there again, the same madness I saw at the Night Temple. There is nothing deliberate or cautious about any of his choices. He’s throwing himself into this, recklessly and furiously, and I don’t know if that’s a good thing for me or not.