Chapter 31
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
MORGANA
F ive days of reading. I was ready to slam my head into the middle of this giant, ancient tome and let the text end me.
I rather enjoyed reading too. But this wasn’t reading. I didn’t get the adrenaline of a good fight scene, or the betrayal of a former love and villainous best friend. No, this was merely about politics and war and death. All of the things I had enough exposure to outside of these palace walls. I thought I might get a break from the library with physical training, or to test more of those potions Aster had introduced me to, but there was no such thing. I suppose tackling him into the water had left a sour taste in his mouth. I should thank him, in fact—it wasn’t as if I wished to train or spar with him.
But it was a welcome distraction. The anger that accompanied it at least.
Aster had been absent though. Erynna was a welcome change, and if circumstances were any different, I might find myself befriending a girl like her like she’d once offered.
She poured us a second glass of wine. It probably didn’t help with the memorization of such mundane text, but it helped pass the time. We’d spent yesterday in her sitting room, but today we’d opted for the grand library. “So,” she hummed and slid the wine glass toward me. “Explain the succession of Avendatis.”
Yesterday, I had to explain—in detail, I might add—the storms that brewed when Vespera began spreading across the shores. Today, we learned about the Veridian Union and the succession of Avendatis from Verdantis. “After a decades-long war, Avendatis and Verdantis signed a peace treaty that acknowledged Avendatis as an independent entity and kingdom nation. Five years after the initial treaty was signed, Avendatis encroached on the lands in an attempt to squash the crown after an unsettled disagreement regarding the impact of Vespera’s shores.”
I took a deep breath, my tongue dry and head pounding. I felt like a walking encyclopedia at this point. Erynna, however, seemed pleased. Tipsily so.
“You have a talent for reciting text. You sound like you wrote it, in fact.”
I rolled my eyes and lowered my gaze to the book. “After another year of fighting, Verdantis had depleted Avendatis’ resources. Another treaty was signed, this time with the support of the other nations within the Veridian Union. Peace has been maintained since.”
“And how long is that?” Erynna said, halfway offering the wine glass to cheers.
When the glass clinked against mine, I said, “Twenty years.”
Erynna chuckled and reached for the book with her other hand to slam it shut. “That’s enough reading for today. You’d survive the University of Arcane Magics, I’d presume. Fortunately, that isn’t so much a concern. Yet. ”
I chewed on the tip of my tongue. Erynna knew their plan for me, but she only gave me bits and pieces. I could only hope she was being facetious, but there was no way to be certain without asking. I doubted she’d tell me the truth anyway. We had made that agreement upon first arriving, but she still served the crown.
I’d be a fool to think otherwise.
“You attended the University?” I asked after licking the remnants of wine from my lips.
Erynna’s smile faltered, a shadow passing over her features before she composed herself. “I did, yes. It was an experience.” There was a heaviness in her tone that hinted at unspoken challenges. Leaning back in her chair, Erynna regarded me thoughtfully, her crimson eyes assessing. “The University is not for the faint of heart. It demands much from its students, both academically and magically. It is a dangerous place, but I believe you have the potential to excel there, if given the chance. Aster and I attended it for years. From our childhood into adulthood. I still wasn’t fully prepared for the trials they had spent over a decade preparing us for.”
I arched an eyebrow. It would be a far cry from the life I had known as a Mortuary Arbiter. Even farther than the life I once had with my brother. “What were the trials like?”
I hoped I never had to face the trials that turned her pale at the mere mention.
“They were tormenting. They started observing me, Aster, and Atlas when we were six. Naturally, you grow used to that sort of thing, and you get comfortable. When I was sixteen—no, seventeen? Somewhere around there. I made a foolish mistake, and they used it against me… both before and after the trials.”
I leaned forward, my mouth ajar. “What sort of mistake? What did they do?”
Erynna winced. “I don’t think the prince would appreciate me telling you these things, Morgana. They’ll do nothing but scare you.”
I opened my mouth to probe further, but the door creaked open. I paused, turning my attention and locking eyes with Aster as he entered the room. His presence seemed to fill the space, commanding attention without a word spoken. In fact, the grand library seemed to shrink in his presence
My heart quickened its pace in my chest. I couldn’t tear my focus from him, taking in every detail as if seeing him for the first time. Aster’s regal bearing was slightly disheveled, his crimson-tinged eyes locking onto mine in a way that sent a shiver down my spine. I couldn’t tell if he was amused, or vengeful. The shadows danced around him, his inked hands covered with those leather gloves I’d grown used to him wearing. His magic submitted to him, as if even they knew to tread lightly in his presence. His expression was carefully composed, a mask of authority that barely concealed the turmoil simmering beneath the surface. I could see the remnants of our encounter in the training yard etched in the lines of his face, a silent, frustrated sneer of resentment that swallowed any chance of normality between us.
After all, I assumed it was unlikely someone walked away after attacking a royal. The heir, no less.
His tone was, undoubtedly, a marked contrast to my own, as was evidenced by the sultry voice and gleaming smile that cut through the patient silence. “Wine does not seem like the ideal accessory to studying, Erynna.”
Erynna tipped the wine his way. The sound of her nails tapping the glass snapped me from the spell Aster seemed to cast. I lifted mine to my lips. I should have apologized. But would that make me weak?
I’d overstepped. Training wasn’t meant to be easy. Even so, I hated losing—and Aster did everything he could to make me fail. I saw through his attempts and even played right into his trap. I’d shown weakness already, and he wanted to play upon it. To chip and chip at my mental and emotional fortitude. I could feel the edge giving, despite my best efforts to overcome it.
Aster took a seat at the head of the table between us.
“Erynna was just quizzing me on the succession of Avendatis,” I interjected, the words slipping out before I could second-guess myself. The wine had loosened my tongue, and perhaps part of me wanted to earn Aster’s favor. It’d be all the much more fun to ruin it again.
Aster arched an eyebrow. “Let us hope you quiz better than you tackle, little dove.”
My cheeks burned, his words slicing through the air like a blade. “Still sore?” I asked, watching a flash of annoyance cross his face. “Perhaps I should be more gentle with you next time we train. I wouldn’t want to break the crown prince.”
Aster’s scowl faded into a smirk. “Oh, you don’t have to be so gentle with me, Morgana. I might have to challenge you to a sparring match, in fact, to see just how rough you can be.”
Erynna choked on her wine. She coughed, trying to suppress the laughter that threatened to escape her lips. “Aster, if you are to treat Morgana like one of your court ladies, please warn me next time so I can flee to the next wing over.”
I swished the wine around in my mouth, and though I feigned disgust, a bit of excitement brewed in my chest. “The crown prince wishes I was as easy as his court ladies.”
Aster grinned, his tongue darting between his lips. I hated it, but a part of me wanted his attention, his gaze. It sickened me, but he’d hinted at it before. Our shadows sang to each other—whatever little of it existed within me. It was likely the only reason I warred with wanting to, and not wanting to, kick his head in every second we shared the same air.
The desire that coursed through me was intoxicating, but it tightened my chest. I was a bundle of nerves around him—a constant state of fight or flight. He seemed to understand and reciprocate, but I couldn’t shake off the feeling of conflict within myself. I knew this was wrong, but a part of me couldn’t resist. I wanted to understand—but he’d spent years mastering his magic. I’d spent days. A week, if I was being inexact.
“Thank you, Erynna.”
The quiet dismissal was evident. Erynna looked at her brother for a moment, but he never turned his attention to her. It remained hung on me. The princess cleared her throat and slid the wine bottle toward us. She stood, bowing her head out of respect and exiting the library in silence.
There was little to ease the anxiety I was met with when Erynna left.
My eyes fluttered. He hadn’t turned away yet. He had so many expressions and each posed one thousand questions.
I found myself leaning in a little closer and felt my cheeks warm on my face. What was it about him that was drawing me in?
“You’ve finished half the bottle,” he muttered, his eyes flicking up and down my face. I frowned, but after a brief pause, he leaned over and grabbed the wine Erynna had left behind. “Which means I am already behind.”
The flickering candlelight played across his features, sharp and soft and dangerously vexing. I wanted to get nearer so I could watch the darkness dance across his irises, but I remained firmly placed in my seat. His posture didn’t suggest malice, and that had me curious. When he brought the bottle to his lips, the shadow dancing beneath the glass caught my attention.
I cleared my throat and lowered my focus to my hands, folded on the table around the stem of my glass. “So, I’ve been taught about the political madness your crown has withstood and survived. But there is one question I have yet to ask.”
“I fear there are many questions you have yet to ask.”
I snickered. “You have made off-hand comments about our... our shadows. That they speak, dance, whisper, sing to one another. I don’t care about the poetic theatrics of your agony. But I want to know what you mean. On a genuine level.”
I saw him stiffen in my periphery, the amusement draining from his air, replaced with an icy indifference. In a matter of seconds, his entire demeanor had changed. I opened my mouth to ask my question again, but my words died in the quiet unknown between us.
It took several beats before he responded, his tone a brittle edge. “It’s too soon, Morgana. You don’t even know how to call on your shadows. How can you expect me to explain the interconnectedness of our magic if you do not understand how it functions on its own?”
“That is not my fault,” I said, stern yet quiet. “My question remains.”
Thump-Thump. Thump-Thump.
There was no response for several heartbeats.
There was anger, rage, and indignation behind his eyes. But after a long moment, that simmering darkness eased. “And what if you do not like the answer?”
“Have I liked anything about my time here, Prince Aster?”
A bitterly quiet chuckle slipped from his lips. The laugh sounded foreign, as if I shouldn’t be honored to have been on the other end of it. He stood, offering a gloved hand toward me. I stared at it. He’d offered a hand time and time again since I met him. In strife, in agony, and in calm. I was uncertain of his motivation, but I found it easier to accept his aid. I stood, taking the wine glass with me as he guided me from the library without another word. He’d left the bottle behind, in place of my hand.
I wanted to ask him where he was taking me. I wanted to stop him and tell him to give me context, truth, and insight. Anything to calm my aching nerves. My voice failed me though.
He guided me down a set of stone stairs, pausing every few steps to ignite a wall lantern so we were not left in utter darkness. All the while, he never let go of my hand. I wasn’t sure if it was because he doubted my ability to follow without fleeing, or if it was something else.
A while later, deep inside the lowest-level corridors, we stopped outside a heavy stone door. He let go of my hand, removing the glove and pressing a naked palm to the cool, rough texture. I watched shadows dance off his skin into the air, swirling around him and taunting me with false sweet-nothings. Promises of joy.
I’d forgotten what such a thing felt like.
When he focused his energy on the doorway, the shadows silenced. They pressed into the stone and formed symbols I’d never pretend to understand. A lock clicked, and when he pushed it open, his magic dissipated. He put his glove on once more and walked beyond the threshold.
I, however, remained.
He did not wait for me as he focused on lighting every candle in the room on the other side. It was an intimate space, with two lounges, six bookshelves, and a fireplace. There was a desk too, scattered with papers and open books. I pushed beyond the entryway.
“What is this place?” I asked quietly.
“The only place I consider safe from prying eyes,” he muttered beneath his breath, setting a blackened match on the table after igniting a candle. The warm candlelight was stark against his black and red clothes, casting shadows across his face that warred with the minimal light. I stared in awe. The darkness around him danced with glee, as if joyful of the dim room.
I hesitantly took a seat on the black loveseat. The door closed slowly, clicking shut as if he’d been there to do it himself. “Is this an elaborate ruse to get revenge against me for what happened in the courtyard?”
“Perhaps.” He did not elaborate, walking across the room toward a cabinet nestled between two massive bookshelves, but there was mischief riddled in his tone. From the cupboard, he removed an unopened bottle of wine, its contents appearing darker than the bottle in the library. Aster raised it and asked a silent question. I peered at my mostly finished glass from earlier and nodded, bringing it to my lips to drink the last of it.
“I did not realize my question meant we needed to get intoxicated in order to discuss it.”
Aster grinned as he poured the wine into two clean crystal glasses, the dark liquid seeming to shimmer with something ethereal. He closed the distance, handing me mine and sitting on the loveseat opposite of me. The room grew heavy as we sipped on our drinks. The rich, velvety taste that coated my tongue was unlike any other wine I’d had before. It was good—but I did not break the silence to ask about it.
“You asked about our shadows,” he muttered after a few moments. “And how they work together. How our magic is connected?”
I nodded.
He set the wine down in front of him. “First and foremost, they exist apart from us. You can overpower mine. As I can with yours.” Aster spoke as if he were carefully choosing each word. “They are manifestations of our deepest desires, fears, and secrets.”
His voice was low and smooth like silk against my skin.
“You speak of them as if they are sentient?” A knot formed in my stomach at the implications of his words.
Aster’s attention held me in place with a magnetic pull. “Indeed. They are a part of who we are, Morgana. And they possess a will of their own, shaped by our actions and choices. Those actions, this magic, it has consequences.”
I leaned forward. “Consequences?” I repeated, my voice barely above a whisper. It was as if I were afraid to disturb the heavy, whispering calm that blanketed us in this secluded room.
Aster’s jaw tightened before he spoke again. “Yes, consequences. They sing to one another, as if they are telling each other stories. I am one with my magic—which means I am one with this curse that plagues me. One day, you will understand this. You will master it. But, even uncontrolled, even as this darkness still dances inside of you, largely hidden from the world, it calls to mine. This anger, attraction, and allure we feel is a consequence of our magic.” He paused, his frown growing harsh. “As is the mercy I’ve shown you.”
Mercy. What would Aster have done to me if he was not inclined to show me mercy ?
The thought did nothing to ease the gnawing in my chest. I gripped the wine glass tightly, fearing the repercussions of spitting or dropping such precious crystal in front of him. Instead, I said nothing and sat, stunned.
Attraction, anger, and allure—all being a result of my magic? It sickened me. It made sense now. Everything. My irrational desire for him. My unexplained hate for his very existence.
Something stung about it, in the end. I’d hoped this attraction that fizzled in and out was true. But it wasn’t.
“So am I plagued too? Am I destined to die?”
Aster was serious, certain. “I do not know, Morgana. Once the doctor returns after our court mages have studied your sample, then we will have an idea.”
That was worse than a yes. I lowered my stare to the ground. “And this hatred—” the cyclical attraction , “—how can we squash it?”
Unspoken truth settled between us, and I risked a glance at him. His attention on me lingered. “If you choose to ignore the draw, it can be managed with time and patience. As you learn to master your magic, you will learn to master the emotional consequences of it all. Or, if you wish, there are far simpler ways of drowning out our sorrows.”
I couldn’t breathe. And yet, despite the gravity of it all, Aster’s eyes gleamed, and the corner of his mouth rose in a devious smirk. It sent a chill down my spine, igniting this heat inside me.
He was monstrous. Beautifully, terrifyingly so.
The suggestion alone made me dizzy. Despite this, I forced my voice to steady. “Is that why you invited me to your study then?” I whispered. “To seduce me and disguise it as a solution?”
“If I were to seduce you, little dove, you’d be certain.”
The statement—the confidence, rather—stole the air from my lungs, leaving me gasping like a fish out of water. It felt like someone had thrown me off a cliff into icy waters and my body had yet to hit the surface.
I loathed this. The fact that his gaze burned into mine. That his hands fiddled in his lap, his wine largely untouched. He knew what he did to me, what he stirred. He thrived on the attention and the guilt that consumed me.
I couldn’t keep my eyes off his face, to those eyes which darkened. It sent a flush across my entire body. Gooseflesh raced after the chill that remained.
It would take only a moment for the gap between us to close, the final wall to come crumbling down, to expose everything we’d both been trying to bury since he tried to blind me. A dangerous, reckless attraction.
“And if I do not believe you, Prince Aster?” I muttered beneath my breath. His eyes widened. “If I were to doubt your honesty tonight and paint it as a ruse? You claim our shadows dance and sing and speak to one another. I have not seen this for myself.”
His voice was a low rumble as he said, “Then you doubt the strings of fate, Morgana Kyllingham. If it were up to me, I would have made sure whatever magic that resides within you remained dormant. If it were up to me, little dove, we would have never crossed paths.”
“How fortunate a reality that would be.”
Aster grinned, standing once more. He removed a glove and gestured for me to stand. I stared at his skin, placing my own glass on the table and doing as he said. For once, I did not want to fight. For once, I wanted to hear him out. With his gloved hand, he grabbed mine and toyed with the delicate fingers.
My eyes were strung along the swirls that moved across his skin in waves. As he’d just said, they were all but sentient. Separate from him, but attached like a second skin crafted of raven ink. His naked palm rested against mine, our fingers pressed flat against one another as if we were to embrace. For a prince, I expected his touch to be soft. But the callouses on the pads of his finger told a different story.
The dancing shadows laced between the gaps of our skin, hugging mine like a cool, ghostly kiss.
Aster reached to lift my chin, the cool leather forcing me from my haze. He was searching for something I couldn’t quite decipher.
Time seemed to still.
It was as if in that fleeting moment, we were stripped bare of our titles and roles—just two souls caught in the intricate dance of fate and magic. The allure of his touch was undeniable, and I found myself ignoring the warnings which echoed in my mind.
“Our fates, for whatever sour, sick, unfair reason, are tangled together. I may find joy in your rage, but I am nothing if not forthright when explaining this. There is still more than enough unknown to uncover, but I have vowed to give you answers. This is the first, and most important one.”
I swallowed the lump in my throat, heat crawling across my face. “I don’t know if I can trust you,” I admitted, the vulnerability quivering in my voice.
“You don’t need to trust me, but you need to trust the magic within you.”
Aster gestured his head toward our hands. I turned my attention, watching shadows dance along my skin—but these were different. Aster’s were cool and icy, but these were tepid, tender. They were intimate to my body. They were my own. A dance of fire and ice.
I hadn’t realized I was leaning into his touch until his gloved hand tightened beneath my chin. The action forced my eyes on him once more. Aster stood too close for my liking. Every single one of my breaths drew more and more of his scent deep within.
Deep enough that I could recognize the cologne clinging to his clothing, the smoke that stained the threads with nicotine and pine as if he’d been in a cigar hall for hours before finding me. I inhaled all these details greedily, holding onto them as the most damning thing that kept me grounded. The magic that chained us together swirled around my arm, coiling around my neck in ways that were both innocent and alarming. Just the softest pressure, a silent request, a plea, a promise of sweet relief and retribution. When his shadows first touched my face in the alleyway of the Afterdark, it hurt.
It nearly blinded me.
But today? It was like a soft breeze against my skin. The phantom touch which made me close my eyes.
A sigh that slipped from him, a quiet noise meant only for me. My fingers brushed his wrist, testing the strength of his hold.
His breath was a smoky wisp that billowed across the nape of my exposed neck despite his distance from my back. He’d mastered his shadows as if they were one. As if he were both in front, behind, and above me.
I’d told Aster I didn’t trust him. He didn’t fight me. I needed to have faith in this magic that had existed within me, dormant and dangerous. Now, it controlled me and made my knees weak, my stomach twist with desire, and my heart flutter like it was weak and fallible. I should push him away, snarl at the mocking tones in his voice, the knowing, tantalizing sparkle of his eyes.
So why couldn’t I?
“You understand now,” he murmured. I chewed against my bottom lip. His closeness. The dance we had begun to succumb to. He understood more than I would ever have the privilege to. I focused on our shadows, the ones that mixed and intertwined—struggling to make sense of the concept and why it made my breath hitch and my mind spiral.
His hand moved from my chin, tracing the curve of my jaw before stroking against my cheek. As it fell, he outlined my bottom lip. I finally opened my eyes to capture him. That was a mistake though—I couldn’t look away now. The way the darkness danced around his crimson eyes was terrifyingly beautiful. They burned like raven fire against his vermillion irises, coloring them almost black.
He was beautiful.
I hated him.
I loathed who he was and what he represented—but he was beautiful. One of the most tragically beautiful things I’d ever touched, breathed in, seen. My heart hastened, my breath turned shallow, and my mouth went dry. “Aster,” I whispered. My hands shook as I reached up, gently brushing against his chest, feeling the hard lines of his muscles through the heavy fabric of his coat. He didn’t move or make a sound.
When my palms moved across his shoulders, he finally breathed out my name with reverence. With something almost like affection. My hands rested in the curve of his neck, letting him keep a steady grasp of my face and chin. He rubbed circles along my cheeks with his thumb, caressing the edges and memorizing the features in a way that made my knees threaten to buckle. Finally, his forehead pressed against mine, and I was forced to close my eyes so I could envision the heat of his gaze again.
I swayed closer. The warmth of his touch—the way his shadows felt against mine. My magic swirled in the air between us. His nose brushed against mine.
But he pulled away.
It was sudden, as if he woke from a dream and didn’t like where the thoughts took him. He studied me with an unreadable expression that only stirred the tempest within me. He released his hold, the bond between our shadows falling flat as if it was severed from me. My magic vanished, but his remained dancing across his skin like it always did.
I drew a hand to cover my mouth.
It was as if the closeness we had shared moments ago had been nothing more than a fleeting illusion. Aster’s focus turned distant, the walls he had momentarily let down now reinforced with impenetrable steel. His features hardened again, that gratingly composed mask slipping back into place.
I stood there, my arms falling limply to my side. The vulnerability I had allowed myself to show was met with a cold refusal. This terrible reminder that whatever connection we shared was governed by forces beyond my understanding.
“Aster,” I began, the word catching in my throat as I struggled to find the right phrasing to express what I was feeling, but before I could speak further, he held up a hand, stopping me in my tracks.
“I am sorry, Morgana,” he said firmly. All the warmth that had shifted between us… gone. “I am the one who should be able to control this temptation that brews between us. I should not have let it—well, I should not have let it get that far.”
I clenched my jaw, suppressing the desire to scream at him to continue. My entire body was shaking at this point. In a yearning desire that I refused to speak into existence. In anger from being rejected. In confusion from something I’d likely never fully understand. He turned away from me, his silhouette cutting a stark figure against the dimly lit room. He leaned over his desk, head held forward as if the idea of almost kissing me was unfathomable.
The greatest of sins.
Unimaginable.
“The worst part about tonight, Morgana, is I only intended to briefly interrupt you and Erynna’s time together to let you know about our trip. Truth is, we’ve been preparing you to travel to Avendatis alongside us. To gather information that can both help us understand where your brother might be, and where we may go to resolve the curse that plagues us.”
I swallowed hard. Aster’s admission about our upcoming journey to Avendatis should have filled me with a sense of renewed determination to find my brother and help Aster break his curse. But all I could feel was the ache of his withdrawal, the sting of his rejection lingering like a bitter aftertaste. In fact, it angered me further—and my words ran faster than my mind.
“You expect me to travel to another kingdom nation when you have not so much as given me crumbs of what you know regarding my brother’s disappearance?”
I watched him tense. Every muscle that lined his back feathered as he rolled his shoulders, and sighed so deeply I could feel it in my soul like a rumbling storm. I winced, expecting his rage. To see that temper his entire family was infamous for.
But he turned, and sadness colored his eyes.
“I fear what weight this truth holds, Morgana. I fear you will lose the hope that has kept you going.” He paused, his lips parting with one final admission. “I do not want to suffocate the fire inside of you.”
I took a step back—his words resonated within me—but I shook my head. They were lies. “If that is what you fear, then you should be the one getting drunk. I am not so weak, and you would be a fool to expect otherwise.”
His sadness faltered, shimmering glee shining through. He didn’t smile though. It was in his eyes. I, however, remained a trembling mess. Wanting. Needing. Aching.
But he’d rejected me.
Of course he did. This was the future king.
And I was his captive.
“Are you certain you are ready for what little truth I have?”
With a raspy plea, I whispered, “Please.”
He turned fully, approaching me once more. He reached for a strand of hair that was wildly swept in my face and curled it around a finger. He opened his mouth long before any explanation dripped off his tongue.
“Your brother may be alive, Morgana.”
I narrowed my eyes in frustration. I was all but ready to slap him, to scream and holler that I already knew that in my heart—that I’d spent the last few years because of that one hopeless belief—but his gentle frown silenced me. It squashed the anger within me and dared me to taste patience.
“I didn’t want to believe it at first. I didn’t want to acknowledge the relation, but when Erynna told me you were a Kyllingham, I was all but paralyzed—in hope, terror. I’m not sure.” He winced. “Galen may not only be alive, he may be the key to my cure. You may be.”
The breath knocked out of my lungs, as if I’d been punched in the chest.
“Galen was a shadow-wielding arcanist, just like you. Just like me. And he did everything in his power to hide that. To hide this truth.”
“Aster—”
He was still looking at me, but it felt as if he were staring through me. I felt dizzy terror flood my veins and turn them cold. “He was part of the Umbran Guard, as you know, but he served with an elite group of researchers who were tasked with examining the magic within artifacts stripped from Vespera. His time in the mines prepared him for it, but I have reason to believe he chose the line of work with purpose. One day, much like what happened to you, his magic imploded within him. It killed one of the researchers and was almost his end. I worked with him and helped him understand what had happened to him, but within days, he lost himself. To madness. To denial. I’m not certain. I don’t know if I’ll ever be certain.”
He dropped his hand and took a step back, guilt coloring him blue as he twisted away. My heart had leaped into my throat, each resounding thrum like a war cry in my ears.
“That can’t be… what do you mean days?” I took a step after him, my vision blurring. “I never noticed him having issues with magic. What do you mean?”
Aster’s back was to me, his shoulders now heavy with the weight of his confession. The room seemed to close in around us, the air thick with unspoken truths and the bitter taste of betrayal lingering on my tongue. “We kept the incident under wraps. Those who saw it were silenced. Those who died did so silently. I instructed him to keep on, to do what the others did and lay low. Then, he vanished.”
Aster cursed and tugged at his hair. I waited in silence for him to continue, but he stumbled over his words before he found his voice again.
“Those who worked alongside him believed he had known about this ailment far longer than I did. He’d been purchasing those elixirs from Lord DeBurne for months, at least, and they helped. Temporarily. It was all too temporary, and should I have known the extent of what he was suffering with, I promise you… I promise you, I would have ensured he was given the help?—”
“You knew though,” I rasped. “All this time. You strung me along when you could have simply told me you saw him, personally, before he vanished.” My entire body turned cold and a tear slipped down my cheek. “How dare you.”
Aster twisted to face me, a deep frown curved into his face. “If I’d known he had a sister, or any sort of family that survived him, I would have made sure you were informed. This plague… this magic, it is dangerous. But even with his tragedy and the mystery behind his disappearance, he was desperate to protect you. It was his greatest motivator, and his greatest vulnerability.”
Mystery.
So he did not know where Galen was. He only had a hand in his demise, not his disappearance. My voice was broken as I pleaded, “When was the last time you saw him?” I took a lunge forward and grabbed onto his arms. “Aster. When did you last see him?”
Aster’s gaze softened as he gently placed his gloved hands over mine. “The night before he disappeared. Galen came to me seeking answers, seeking solace in his turmoil. I could see the fear in his eyes, the desperation to protect something he refused to tell me about. I know that was you, now. I know that now—gods, I was a fool. He spoke of voices that called him to Vespera, that he feared he’d be forced to listen.”
I felt a lump form in my throat, a wave of emotions crashing over me like a raging storm. The revelation that Aster had been with my brother mere hours before his disappearance left me reeling, struggling to comprehend the weight of their last encounter. “You are lying. ”
Aster shook his head. “I vow to you, Morgana. I vow that I did everything I could to help him, but something happened that night. After the magic inside of him imploded, he lost a part of himself. He left a note in his room. That is all I have left?—”
“A note?”
Aster’s mouth clamped shut. My voice was a command—a daring, brutal command that would make even the most stoic ruler pause.
“You had a note? All this time ?”
Aster’s silence spoke volumes. My heart pounded in my chest, each beat resonating with a mix of fury and betrayal.
The revelation that he had kept a note from my brother, that he had withheld vital information about Galen’s last moments before disappearing, ruined me.
I was all but ready to crumble on the floor beneath him, but I wouldn’t let him see that.
I wrenched my hands away from Aster’s grip, bitter resentment souring the tip of my tongue. “You had a note from him all this time. Show it to me,” I demanded.
With a heavy sigh, he backed away and approached a cabinet. Removing keys from his pocket, he cycled through them before clicking it into place and unlocking the door. He rifled through a few pages before pulling yellowed, worn parchment from the shelf. He handed it to me, the edges soft as if it had been unfolded countless times.
I opened it. The elegant script of my brother’s handwriting stared back at me, each word etched with a sense of urgency and finality that made my heart clench. It wasn’t addressed to anyone in particular but was written as if it should be.
No matter what happens, you are not alone. The shadows call to me, and I fear their desires. Should I face an untimely demise, then you must destroy the call of Sirens at Vespera’s border. They taunt me, and they shall taunt you. Haunt you, even. Destroy them before they destroy you ? —
Sirens. My stomach twisted into such tight knots that I feared I’d vomit blood. That every bit of restraint I’d built up would crumble and I’d flounder on the ground between broken sobs. This could mean so many things, but was Siren’s name a pure coincidence?
Or had the mysterious, faceless man who’d aided me for years following Galen’s disappearance been as much a part of his demise as Prince Aster?
I wasn’t even aware my hold was so feathery that the paper fell from my fingers. Neither was I aware that I’d collapsed onto my knees, eyes rolled into the back of my head as the darkness of this truth took hold of me.
I was, however, aware of Aster’s hold on my body as I tumbled onto the floor. Intimately so.
And as his warmth enveloped me, the castle imploded.
Cruel darkness whipped toward us, and though I could not yet break free of this terrible, cold sleep that had encroached upon me, I smelled the tang of death. I heard the hisses of one thousand lost souls. Aster screamed.
And the fire bled along the carpet. It burned the books. The letter near my hand engulfed in flames.
Shadows spiraled over us, and I could not differentiate reality and nightmare as Aster lifted me from the ground to run.
Galen had written me a note.
One that warned of sirens.