by Coco Ma
“The sun won’t be up for another few hours,” she said. “Everyone else has gone to bed.”
He hauled himself out of the armchair, straightening a crick in his neck. “Except for you, Your Majesty?”
Her lips curved into a semblance of a smile. “I suppose so.” She cocked her head, contemplating him. “You wouldn’t happen to remember what your nightmare was about, would you?”
His palms turned clammy. “No.”
“You were shouting, ‘Don’t go.’ Over and over.”
Orion looked away. “It was just a stupid dream.”
“My dreams led me to Axaris,” Rose said. “And when I dreamt that my father would die at the end of my uncle’s sword, he was dead by morning.”
“Uncle? You mean …” His eyes widened. “Quinlan’s father?”
Rose tipped her chin. “His violent, abusive father, yes. No one outside of the family ever learned of how my father actually died—just another one of Eradore’s best-kept secrets.”
Her sarcasm bit him. “Listen, Rose …” He bowed his head. “About my suspicions when you and Quinlan first arrived in Axaris … I never meant—”
Rose pinned him down with a flat stare. “Not everything is about you, Orion,” she said. Those words hurt even more, nailing into something deep inside him.
“I just—I find it difficult to open myself up to people,” Orion admitted. “And to trust them. A long time ago …” His throat closed up and he found himself unable to continue.
Rose sighed. “You know, I once had someone I would have died for ten times over. In the end, he broke my heart. It took me years to learn how to trust again, but when I did …” She shook her head. “All I’m saying is that you should learn to give people a chance, Orion.”
He was struck by the pain reflected in her eyes, and he found himself unable to tear his gaze away from the hypnotizing flecks of charcoal amongst the gold. He had to remind himself that despite being the Queen of Eradore, she was still just a nineteen-year-old girl. “I’ll—I’ll try.”
“I didn’t want to trust the visions that led me to all of you at first,” Rose told him quietly. “I had them every night. And every night, I saw a girl. Fighting. Every damn night, without fail, until I set foot in your city.”
He swallowed his dread and dared ask, “Fighting who?”
“Darkness itself.” Rose turned toward the window, fixated on a horizon Orion couldn’t see. “She was the only shield against a tidal wave of shadows, but alone, she didn’t stand a chance against them. They fell upon her like scavengers over a festering carcass.” The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. “And every time, as the shadows feasted upon her ravaged soul, a woman would emerge from the darkness.” After the slightest of hesitations, Rose stepped toward the hearth and bent down to scoop up her satchel. From a side pocket, she removed a small object and passed it to him.
Orion frowned. It was a tiny iron figure of a butterfly, the patterns etched into its wings set with intricate swirls of black amethyst. He turned it gently in his hands and winced. The tip of a wing had nicked his palm. “What is this?”
“After my mother died a few weeks ago, I found this among her possessions. From the moment I touched it, I knew there was something wrong. It has an unnatural energy—a dark energy, just like the shadows in my visions. And that night, my visions changed. Instead of the shadows overcoming the girl, they were overcoming my kingdom. I could do nothing to stop them. But just when I thought all hope was lost, a silver wolf appeared and banished the shadows. And right before I woke up, it told me to come here. So I sent scouts to Axaria. None returned. I never planned such a prolonged absence from Eradore, but I’m not leaving until I know for certain that my people will be safe.”
“Hold on.” Orion frowned. “I’ve seen this figurine before. Asterin has one in her room.”
Rose’s expression darkened. “Do me a favor. When we get back to Axaris, burn it to ashes.”
“What in the world for?” Orion spluttered.
“Each of the members of the Council of Immortals represents an animal. Lord Conrye and his wolf, Lady Ilma and her vipers, Lord Tidus and his serpent. Eoin, the God of Shadow, out of all the creatures in his kingdom, chose the black butterfly.”
Orion rubbed his temple. “In my dream, I think I was falling.” The confession dredged up a vague recollection. “Falling and falling. Endlessly. But it couldn’t have been some kind of literal warning, right?” He chuckled half-heartedly. “That kind of thing would be impossible.”
The silence dragged on and on, the cold in Orion’s stomach only growing colder as the last of the smoldering embers faded upon lumps of blackened coal.
“In a world of magic,” Rose said slowly, and he saw pity in her expression. “Nothing is impossible.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Asterin buried her fingers into the plush carpet and watched Quinlan pace back and forth in the light of a single candle perched on the corner of the bedside table, its flame dancing merrily. The room had a narrow bed for a sole occupant and not much else.
Quinlan halted in front of her, as if noticing her for the first time, and squinted in confusion. “Why are you still awake?”
“Can’t sleep,” she said, hugging her knees and looking up at him.
Quinlan glared at her and grumbled something underneath his breath. “Stop giving me doe eyes, brat. You know that there’s a perfectly good bed right there, right?”
She scoffed. “Doe eyes?”
“Yes. You do that wide-eyed stare and bat your lashes like you’re innocent or something, but you fool no one.”
She blinked, bewildered. “Bat my eyelashes?”
He threw his hands in the air. “See? You’re doing it again! The blinking thing!” He bent forward and did an exaggerated imitation for her.
“You have awfully long eyelashes for a boy.”
Quinlan groaned, running his hands through his hair in frustration. “You are going to be the death of me.”
Asterin sighed and stretched her arms above her head. “What a fine day that will be.”
Quinlan scowled. She could hear him grinding his teeth. “You are ridiculous.”
“I’m ridiculous? You’re the one who climbed up four stories and smashed through my window just to show me a baby bird!”
“What was I supposed to do?” he grumbled.
“Oh, save it. That bird was unbelievably cute, though.” Asterin smirked. “It made you look quite hideous in comparison.”
Quinlan dove at her with a strangled roar. She let out a muffled oomph as they crashed to the floor. He straddled her waist, pinning her wrists above her head.
Lips parted, Asterin stared up at him, the carpet tickling the nape of her neck as she soaked in his wind-and-smoke scent. Her eyes traced the hard lines of his jaw, drinking in the creamy skin. The candlelight glinted like a halo along the silhouette of his rumpled hair.
Oh, this won’t do, Asterin thought to herself and bucked upward, startling him enough that she managed to flip them over and lock his hands above his head instead.
Quinlan glared up at her. Then something over her shoulder caught his attention and he let out a gasp. “I think I just saw something move!”
She shouldn’t have fallen for it, but she did, and the next thing she knew he had wrestled her back to the ground. “Not fair.”
Quinlan leaned down and purred into her ear, “I never said I’d play fair.”
As he drew back slightly, his eyes flicked to her lips.
Her throat dried.
It took all her self-control not to drag him down by the collar. Don’t let him make you his plaything. She knew his type, and she refused to give him what he so obviously wanted. “Quinlan—”
“I was afraid you were going to die,” he interrupted, eyes fixated on her mouth even as he spoke. H
is brow furrowed a moment later, as if he couldn’t believe he had confessed such a thing.
“And I was afraid you were already dead,” she said.
“You can’t get rid of me that easily.”
She bared her teeth. “Shall I try?”
At last, he blew out a long breath and cursed. “You are impossible,” he snapped, rolling off her.
Asterin stayed on her back, curling her fingers into the carpet. Quinlan’s ragged breaths filled the silence, and she glimpsed the flush creeping up his neck, tingeing his ears pink. “Why do you put up with me, then?” she asked.
“You’re a good distraction.”
Somehow, she was surprised by how much the offhand comment stung. Eventually, she managed to say, “You should get some sleep.”
“Ah. Right.” He got to his feet, scuffing the carpet with the toe of his boot. “Well, bye, then.”
Despite her inner conflict, she blurted, “You could stay here, you know.” Then she hastily added, “Since we’re leaving so soon, anyway.”
He coughed loudly. “Oh, I suppose.” With a loud snort of indignation, he stomped over to her side and flopped onto his back. He threw an arm over his face, shoulder brushing hers.
Asterin almost laughed. “Has anyone ever told you that you can be incredibly melodramatic?”
“Thank you,” he spat.
“That was definitely not a compliment,” Asterin said. Quinlan swore colorfully under his breath, calling her a few choice names that she thought were entirely inappropriate for the situation. “How I pity the poor ladies pining for you back in Eradore.”
He snorted at that. “And I the suitors in Axaria.”
“You truly should. Nothing has ever worked out, and I’ve almost killed a few of them,” she admitted in a hushed whisper. “I simply can’t stand them, and accidents happen so easily.” Her nose wrinkled as she recalled the most recent offender. “Though the last one was definitely asking for it. He kept gawking at Luna—well, everywhere but her face.”
“And you let him keep his head?”
“He found all of his clothes swimming with the ducks in the pond.” That drew a chuckle out of him, and she couldn’t help but ask, “Are any ladies in Eradore desperately awaiting your return?”
“I wish,” he responded with a dry smile. “Aunt Lillian was always trying to marry me off to the daughter of one of her closest friends. Her name was Pippa. She was a nice person and all. It’s just that … well, I know it’s terrible, but I could never say her name aloud in a romantic way without laughing. She always thought I was laughing at her.”
“Poor Pippa. She probably deserved better than you, anyway.”
“I courted her for about three months,” he went on. “One day, we were walking in the gardens and she asked me to pick some white roses for her, which only grow on the east side of the palace. When I came back, I found her locking lips with the head gardener.”
Asterin gasped, slapping a hand over her mouth to stifle her laughter. “Pippa!”
“Mind you, the head gardener wasn’t a bad-looking man,” Quinlan added. “If you overlook the oily goatee and the potbelly. Aunt Lillian laughed herself sick when she found out.” He shifted a little closer.
“What about your mother?”
A pause. “She died giving birth to me. According to my brother, my father was never the same after that. He drank from morning until night, forgot that we needed to be fed, that sort of thing.”
“That’s terrible.” Asterin swallowed. “I’m sorry.”
A harsh chuckle. “That’s not all. After my father realized how powerful I was, he took every opportunity to remind me that unless I trained until I bled, I didn’t deserve my magic. He was jealous. He was only bifinitied, and weak at that. My very existence made him angry. He used to beat me, when I was too young to know that what he was doing was wrong or to fight back.”
She couldn’t believe her ears. To hurt one’s own child … Priscilla had never raised a hand to her. Asterin’s injuries had only come from fists she herself commanded to fly, fights she fought of her own free will. It was her mother’s words that left the scars, a deep ache in her chest that chafed like a fresh wound every time she remembered all of her mother’s scorn, the shame the queen caused her to feel whenever Asterin used her body to duel instead of dance.
Luna’s voice echoed in her mind. She loves you in her own way.
“Do you think he loved you?” Asterin asked.
Quinlan’s throat bobbed. “The only people he truly loved were my mother and Aunt Lillian, his sister,” Quinlan said. “He didn’t care much for my brother and me, but he hated King Bernard—Rose’s father. Bernard was barely a lord, but Aunt Lillian still took him as her king. After my mother died, my father tried to convince Aunt Lillian to kill Bernard. Only the Immortals knew why. Maybe because he thought it was unfair that his sister’s love still lived while my mother was dead. Of course, she refused, so he ended up killing the man himself.”
“Immortals,” Asterin breathed.
“After my father was executed, Aunt Lillian, despite still being in mourning, took me and my brother in. Raised us right alongside Rose and two newborns, Avris and Avon. The twins.”
“Did you get along?” Asterin asked, trying to imagine a little Quinlan playing hide-and-seek with his cousins.
“The twins are devilspawn if you get on their bad side,” he said, cracking a smile. “But otherwise, yes. My brother and I had a bit more of a … complicated relationship. Taeron … well, he’s deadly smart. He spends all his time holed up in libraries or his room. Whichever has more books that he hasn’t read. And he’s handsome. Way more than I am.” At her eye roll, he shook his head. “No, you don’t understand. He’s perfect. I’m not even exaggerating. My father used to say that Taeron was the only reason he bothered coming home. I could never compete with him, and he hardly even tries.” Quinlan huffed out a miserable chuckle. “And he’s so kind about everything that there’s no way to properly hate him for it.”
Asterin didn’t know what to say to that. Orion was the closest thing she’d ever had to a brother, but he had never been her rival for attention, since he certainly didn’t care about impressing Queen Priscilla.
“Taeron always tried to stop my father from hurting me. But Taeron did have a single flaw … he inherited almost no magical capabilities. No matter how hard he practiced, he could only ever summon enough flame to light kindling.” Quinlan flicked his finger lazily, and a ball of fire engulfed the candle on the bedside table, consuming half of the wax in an instant. “All my father had to do was whisper a sleeping spell and Taeron was out. No bruises or broken bones, of course. Those were reserved for me.”
Thinking of little Quinlan, hurting and alone … it was all Asterin could do not to wrap her arms around him and hold him close. She inched slightly closer to him. “Why?”
He shrugged. “It never occurred to me to ask. I just assumed it was meant to be. And physical abuse was one thing, but my father’s favorite punishment was taking away my affinity stones.”
Her head snapped toward him in shock. “He took them away from you?”
Quinlan stared up at the ceiling. “Yeah, when he beat me. So I had no way to fight back.” He threw a few half-hearted punches into the air. “And then, one day, I learned how to wield magic without them.” His lips curved into a wicked little grin. “Immortals, was he ever surprised by that.”
“I wish I could’ve been there,” said Asterin. “Oh.” At the mention of affinity stones, she reached into her pocket and fished out the omnistone. “I almost forgot to give this back to you.” It gave off a pearly, luminescent glow in her palm, soothing the darkness around it like moonlight.
“Keep it,” said Quinlan softly.
“But—”
“I said keep it, brat,” he repeated, reaching up and splaying his fing
ers beneath hers, gently curling them around the stone. “Only you and I can touch this stone, anyway, and I don’t need it.” His hand lingered a moment more against hers before dropping back to his side.
She gave in. “Thank you. Truly. For … everything.” Her fingers felt blindly for his, and when she found them, she gave them a last quick squeeze. She hid a smile as he muttered something unintelligible, the tips of his ears tinged pink.
They lapsed into tranquil silence. She could tell he was struggling to stay awake, though she didn’t know for whose sake.
Some time later, he murmured her name midway through a massive yawn.
“Yes?” she asked, rolling over to face him.
He rolled onto his side to face her too, though his eyes were closed. The tip of his nose brushed her forehead, and his breath warmed her skin. Asterin didn’t dare move. A voice in her head warned her to turn away, but no matter how hard she urged herself to move, her body refused to listen.
“I’m glad you haven’t tried to kill me yet,” he mumbled, words slurring.
It took her a moment to understand his meaning. She blushed. “You aren’t courting me, though.” She watched the slow rise and fall of his chest, and then added half-jokingly, “Unless you are?”
But there was no response.
She tilted her face to look up at him, the candle burning low and the buttery golden light casting darkness over the planes of his face, only to find that he had already fallen fast asleep.
She sighed and closed her eyes. “Asshole.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
The boy found the package in a dark passageway. Earlier explorations during his first four months working at the palace had revealed a sprawling network of such passageways in the underbelly of the palace—most allowed servants to scuttle about invisibly to do their work, but some seemed as though no one had disturbed their dust for decades. Lost in his thoughts, the young servant had taken a wrong turn or two, and now found himself dreadfully lost.
Most of the brown paper wrapping of the package had been torn to shreds. Even from afar, it smelled rancid, and at first he thought it might have contained some spoiled meat. But as he approached, he saw the remains of some greenish carcass within, entrails spilling out, glassy, yellow eyes oozing black pus. Scrawled on the side of the package was the sender’s address, accompanied by a little note and a scribble that vaguely resembled the letter N:
