Secrets and Stardust

58. Epilogue

Altair

He landed in a crouch and took a moment to catch his breath. It had been a thousand years since Altair had teleported, and he was out of practice. Plus, the amulet was resisting him, and his own magic remained repressed. But that should be remedied soon. Iyana’s stolen magic thrashed within him. Slowly, he released it, only fragments at a time, and it instinctually traveled to what it found the most familiar—the amulet. Wisps of silver magic were absorbed by the gem until the only power within Altair was his own. He stumbled from the effort.

Once he was steadier, he straightened to discern where he’d landed. Altair almost snorted when he realized he was directly next to the crater he’d created when he’d first fallen. Where he’d met Iyana.

When he was first approached for this mission, his superiors had warned him that he was going to need to woo the Aztia and create a closeness with her so she never doubted his intentions, and that he’d have to be sure not to catch feelings for her. He’d assured them it wouldn’t be an issue. No female in his past had ever been put first before the job. Then this fucking woman had thrown all of his promises out the window the moment she lay on the ground, mere feet from where he was currently standing, and gazed upon the stars with wonder. He had tried to resist as much as possible, while still giving her enough to gain her trust, and eventually her love.

Altair had been of the mindset then that he could cut ties with her at the end of this without issue, that he was only enamored with her. It was lust. It was a crush. There was no way he actually loved her. But he had told her more about his past than he’d meant to. He’d revealed his fear of enclosed spaces when it wasn’t necessary for her to love him. It had felt so nice for someone to comfort him after a thousand years of forced solitude.

Then he had kissed her. In that second, it clicked, and there was no turning back. His astalle.

Starheart.

Altair’s star-bound mate. The one made especially for him.

That she was human and not a star did not surprise him in the least. The universe was obviously out to fuck with him.

He had tried convening with his superiors, insisting they could sway her to his side. He’d earned her trust, and he swore he would convince her to do their bidding without stealing her magic. They had shut the idea down fast, began questioning if he was the right star for the job, and asking for his motivations to change their plan. Many times he had considered picking her up, telling her ‘fuck Arinem,’ and going someplace else. But the stars whispered in his head constantly, urging him forward, and he knew they’d follow him wherever he went for an eternity until he did their bidding. There was no choice.

An imposing figure materialized in front of him. Placing his fist over his heart, Altair bowed.

“Alpha Centauri,” he said. “Welcome back.”

Rigil surveyed Altair with a frown. He was the head of the Centaurus constellation, the top-ranked family of the four major families, making him Alpha Centauri. He was tall and lean, cropped black hair in contrast with his lightly golden eyes, with pale skin hidden mostly by the shadows constantly writhing around him.

“Altair, congratulations on your success,” Rigil intoned, sounding anything but impressed.

“Thank you, my lord.” Altair bowed again.

Another male figure appeared next to Rigil. This star was shorter, but bulkier, with plenty of muscle mass. His long white hair currently tied up in a bun, and his face permanently screwed into a scowl. His nose had been broken, and while the star could have easily healed it, he said he preferred it this way, that it made him more menacing. Altair just wished he’d been the one to break it.

“Hadar,” he said, holding back a sneer.

“That’s Beta Centauri to you,” Hadar replied. Altair’s brow raised, but it was all the surprise he allowed to cross his face. So the bastard had gotten a promotion.

“Any problems with the Aztia?” Rigil asked, ignoring the rivalry of the two stars in front of him.

“No, my lord,” Altair said. “I was able to steal her magic fully, and I have the amulet.” The necklace he’d made for her from Imo’s ashes was tucked away safely in his pocket.

“Is she dead?”

“I regret to inform you, I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?” Hadar asked. Altair glared at him.

“She’s lost all of her magic in mere seconds. There’s no way she can survive. A star would find it difficult to come back from that, and she is but a human.” His heart squeezed in his chest, but he kept his face placid.

“And the Kanaliza?” Rigil asked.

Altair suppressed a wince. “I attempted to kill him—”

“Attempted?” Hadar interrupted, again, with a frown.

“Yes, attempted.” He hurled the words at the new Beta. “His ‘noble’ friend took my killing blow. And there wasn’t enough magic for a second attempt. Not if I was to call everyone down.” He regretted not murdering Emmeric when he had the chance. Or striking him down on the road. Gods knew he’d wanted to multiple times, but it would have altered how Iyana viewed him. And Altair had come to care about her opinion of him.

Rigil waved it off with a flick of his hand, shadows flitting around in its wake. “No matter. He’s nothing without the Aztia. She dies, and he has no purpose.” He pinned Altair with his cruel, deadened eyes. “Now we move to the next phase. Assemble the others.”

Altair and Hadar both bowed to their Alpha before he disappeared in a shroud of darkness.

No matter what Altair did next, none of them could discover Iyana was his astalle. If she survived—his soul shriveling at the thought of her dying, and he was the one to murder her—he hoped she laid low. Maybe she would leave the continent. Should anyone learn of his secret, Rigil would have her hunted without mercy. Deep down, though, he knew she wouldn’t back away from this fight, and now she’d be out for his blood. Iyana could never know what astalle meant. What she meant to him. Altair was never one for praying, but he sent a plea to Altea to spare his starheart.

If Iyana desired to kill him and send him directly into Phaedros’s pit, so be it. Altair would welcome the darkness with open arms.