Chapter Twenty-Three
When we reach Hellion on the sixth day of our journey, Eliza cloaks our ship, preparing to face the naval presence we’d encountered on our first voyage, but as we emerge from the Dire, we’re alone on the crystal-blue surface of the Western Sea.
No warships prevent us from entering Hellion’s naval space.
No gruesome warnings deter pirates from approaching the coast. It’s calm—too calm.
And as Diana and I make our way up the steps to where my siblings gather near the helm, I hear my own unease reflected in their voices.
“This doesn’t feel right,” Owen mutters, eyes narrowed on the crowded harbor in the distance.
Charlie cracks his knuckles—a nervous habit that Albert has picked up in recent years. “Do you think it’s a trap?”
Owen just shakes his head, his jaw tight. “I don’t know.”
Lewis, draped casually over the helm, appears deceptively serene. “Let me go in first,” he offers, running his fingers over the edge of a long, curved blade. “I can scout the territory.”
“No,” I say, bracing for their reaction to my new… attire. “We stick to the plan.”
They all turn to look at me, their expressions a mixture of shock and disgust.
Margaret’s lip curls. “I hate it.”
“That’s the point.” Titus saunters up the steps to stand beside me in a matching set of bloodred armor. He offers Margaret a cool smile, tapping the helmet tucked under his arm. “And here I thought you had a thing for masked men in uniform.”
Margaret’s face burns, and I can’t help but think that if she were a firebreather with Henry’s unique ability to murder with a single look, Titus would be dead.
“In your dreams,” Jack drawls, clapping Titus on the shoulder as he skirts past us to throw his arm around Margaret. He kisses her on her temple, laughter playing on his lips.
Titus winks, as if the two of them shared some private joke the rest of us aren’t privy to, but when he looks at me, his expression shifts. He gives me a once-over, his mouth set in a tight line.
He’s avoided me since the night he carried me to my bed, hasn’t spoken a word to me except the necessary communication required to keep the Starchaser running smoothly, and even then, he kept his distance and he never looked me in the eye.
When I woke that morning, he was already gone.
He must be embarrassed, I’ve decided. I keep thinking that I should be, too.
But I’m not. It felt… good to let go, even if it was just for a few hours.
To be Aster Oberon, the person. Not the cursed pirate captain, or the heir of Hildegarde, or the girl who spent months under the compulsion of an Underling.
Still, I do feel foolish for thinking things could be different between Titus and me—for even caring what he thinks, when there are much more important things to worry about than whatever is or isn’t going on with us.
But now, after days of averting his gaze whenever I’m near, he can’t seem to take his eyes off me.
“Where’s your helmet?” His voice is soft.
“I’ve got it,” Diana says, lifting it into the air like a trophy. She passes it to me, and I note the dents from where I’d struck her the day the Mythslayer attacked. Her skull must be remarkably strong.
The others continue to talk strategy, but Titus watches as I slip the helmet over my head, and I’m thankful when he can no longer see my cheeks, uncomfortably hot under his relentless stare.
He follows suit, and it’s unnerving to see him like this.
I didn’t think it was possible for him to look any more menacing than he does on any given day, but the armor molds to his lithe, towering frame, a second, metallic skin, and when he inclines his head to look down at me, his blue eyes seem to sparkle, like sunlight on open water.
“What?” he murmurs, loud enough for only me to hear, his voice deep, muffled by the helmet. A smirk dances in his eyes. “Red’s always been a good color on me, no?”
Six days. He hasn’t spoken to me in six days, and now he’s… flirting?
I tilt my head, praying he can’t sense the increase in my pulse when I meet his gaze. “I especially like that I don’t actually have to look at you.”
Titus’s eyes flare, and I barely hear his dark chuckle before Owen clears his throat.
“Gabriel?” Owen calls out, looking at everyone but Titus and me—as if to pretend he wasn’t the only one to have noticed how close we were standing. But I know my brother too well; I see the smirk tugging at his lips. “Where’s Gabriel?”
“Here!” Gabriel struggles to make his way up the stairs, every step laborious with Elsie clinging to his leg. Over the past few days, she’s grown increasingly attached to him—much to Gabriel’s chagrin.
“Elsie!” My siblings and I bark in unison, even as Margaret smothers her chuckle with the back of her hand.
Elsie pouts as she jumps to her feet, and Gabriel stretches his leg with a grimace.
“But he promised to tell me another story about the elves!” she whines.
Gabriel rubs his hands over his face, lets out an exasperated sigh. “And I will,” he says, more gently than I’d expect, considering his dull, annoyed expression. “As soon as I get back. Now go see if Henry needs any help with the stew.”
She wrinkles her nose. “Fine,” she says, but before she goes, she hugs Owen, then me, then—
She throws her arms around Titus, and he goes perfectly still.
“Promise you’ll all come back?” she asks, looking up at him, her eyes wide, bottom lip jutting out.
Titus kneels, and it’s strange seeing him dressed in the armor of a Bloodknight, bowing before a child. I almost can’t believe it when he places his fist over his heart, inclining his head, as if he were a knight swearing his fealty. “I promise, princess.”
Elsie blushes scarlet, but she lifts her chin haughtily. “Good.”
The air is thick as Owen takes Gabriel’s and my hands.
I hold out my gauntlet for Titus, and his steel grasp slips into mine.
Our gazes meet, briefly, and it looks like he’s trying to tell me something with his eyes.
But then I’m pulled, my stomach lurching, as the deck drops out from beneath me.
My vision blurs, streaks of color and light streaming past me, and I struggle to catch my breath.
One moment, we’re standing aboard the Starchaser, and the next, we’re standing on a rooftop in Bale.
The wind stirs at our arrival. I sway, my legs threatening to give out, but Titus’s grip tightens, steadying me.
“Stars,” I breathe, looking out over Hellion’s capitol.
The blazing pink sun hangs low in the dusky-purple sky, glittering softly on the domed marble rooftops.
A clear, sparkling river runs through the center of the city, wide enough for ships to pass through, their saffron sails flapping in the breeze.
From the river springs an oasis of lush green—bright, colorful flowers I’ve never seen and tall, fruit-bearing trees—and along the outskirts, merchants tend booths boasting jewelry and spices, birds in cages, and expertly honed weapons.
But it’s quieter than I would expect, and even the merchants seem to hold their breaths as patrols of League soldiers in their olive-green uniforms and units of Bloodknights pass by their stalls.
Titus clears his throat, and my eyes snap to our hands, still clasped long after Owen and Gabriel have already parted, scouting our position on opposite sides of the rooftop.
My stomach flips and I withdraw my hand, but Titus stares at his outstretched gauntlet for a moment too long before his hand curls into a fist.
“Aster—” he starts.
Owen whistles, signaling for us to meet him in the center of the rooftop.
“Bloodknights and League soldiers have been in and out of the palace since Calantha came into power,” he tells us.
“After the princess’s death, Calantha spun a story to make it seem like it was human rebels that attacked Castle Grim.
She sent troops of Bloodknights here, to Hellion, claiming the kingdoms needed to unite in the face of this mutual threat.
They insist,” he adds with an uneasy glance at me, “that it was Aster who killed Leonora.”
I am glad I can’t see Titus’s face, but not for the reasons I would want him to believe. I’m afraid that if I were to see the grief that twists his expression, I wouldn’t be able to keep myself from reaching for him—from wanting to comfort him.
He hasn’t spoken of Leo since the compulsion was broken.
Did he watch her die, unable to do anything to save her?
All those times he warned me she was possessed—it was all a part of Morana’s compulsion, the game she was playing with me.
But if Titus was aware of everything that was happening, how many times did he wish I would believe him?
Lie or not, game or not, I should have believed him. Perhaps if I had trusted him, if I had just listened to him…
“We’ll use this to our advantage,” Owen continues.
“Hellion’s royal family, the Bouchers, are hosting a ball this evening.
Delegates from all over the Known World will be present.
Titus and Aster, you’ll accompany Gabriel, who will be disguised as Simon Bellamy, a dignitary from the Eerie’s council of merchants.
Simon inherited a great deal of wealth, often paying Bloodknights to accompany him on his travels, and with the Eerie’s increased military presence, we’ll blend right in.
He’s also known for traveling with his pet falcon.
” He gives a smug grin, holding his arms out as if they were wings and bowing slightly at the waist. “That will be me. Any questions?”
Gabriel’s brow furrows. “You’re sure whatever we’re looking for will be inside the palace?”