Chapter 41
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
ASTER
“ S he did… she did what?”
I pinched the bridge of my nose after setting down the book I’d been occupying myself in. Erynna was settled on the loveseat across from me, her body swaying with the bustling train movements. She let her book thud on the cushion next to her, swinging her legs so her feet were flat on the ground.
“Aster, you know it isn’t nice to lie.”
I barked out a laugh and braced my elbows on the flat side of my knees, letting out a sound that was somewhere between a groan and a sigh. “If this were a lie, I’d be having a lot more fun. She is fine most of the time, but this magic within her… it makes her famished for any sort of relief. ”
“You forget why the University kept us away from proper civilization during our growing years, brother. We knew that pain as well as she does. Only we had years to cope. She’s had—well, days? Mere days.”
I looked at her through my heavy lashes. I remember the first time I caught her sneaking out to socialize. I thought she’d gone mad, but one day I accompanied her. It was a frenzy of wild relief, exploring what sort of attention our shadows craved. Sometimes it was innocent.
More often than not, it sought to get us into trouble. I had to save her more than I could count, and she’d shouldered the same burden with me more than once. This magic poisoned our blood, yes, but it also tainted our mind. It dared us to confide in dark desires, and if we hadn’t spent years learning to swallow the sweeter sides of life and accept numbness, loneliness, it would have won.
I did not blame Morgana for her anger, her desires, or her hatred. I related to them in more ways than she’d ever understand. But they were false. A ruse.
“I’m no fool,” I finally said in response and leaned back, dipping my head to watch the lamps rattle against the wall behind me. “I am also sympathetic to her predicament. But I cannot be expected to teach her if she is trying to jump my bones. Whether that is to slit my neck or?—”
“I don’t want to hear it, truly.” Erynna chortled. “You’ve survived far worse than a novice arcanist. All we can do is hope she listens to us long enough to survive the Avendatis castle. But you have to put a stop to it. You know as well as I do what will happen to her if the University’s clergy finds out about her values.”
I ignored her warning. “My question still stands,” I said, huffing. “How am I expected to train her if she runs off to hide and sulk and—and?—”
“If I were any more a fool, I’d say it’s you who seems flustered, brother.”
I choked on my words and snapped my head to look at her. She’d reached for her glass, swirling it around to aerate the deep red wine. As she drew it to her lips, she grinned.
“I am not flustered.”
“Whatever you say,” she said after swallowing. “As a subject, it is not my place to question the crown prince, after all.”
“But as my sister…”
“Oh, as your sister, I think you’re full of shit.”
“Of course you do.”
Erynna set down her glass and picked up her book, returning to her lounged state, raven hair draping over the edge of the cushion as she flipped to the next page. “You mastered the shadows, Aster. There are hundreds of them in this very room. Use them, scare her if you think it will get a reaction. But don’t let complacency win.”
“I wouldn’t let her get complacent,” I said in haste.
“Oh, good, because I wasn’t talking about her.”
My jaw clenched, and I jumped to my feet to storm off. Erynna didn’t pay any mind though. She never did. She merely chuckled beneath her breath and returned to her book. I passed through two train carts before stopping outside of her door. I curled my hand into a fist to knock but stopped, knowing full well that she wouldn’t answer me. I thought about merely saying her name through the wooden frame, but if she wasn’t inclined to answer a knock, why would she be more likely to respond to my voice?
No. Erynna was right. Morgana always gave me the time of day when terror was involved. That was how it was when we met in the alleyway after Lord DeBurne’s accident , and that remained constant throughout the entirety of our unfortunate relationship. I was good at scaring people. Great, even.
But I didn’t want to scare Morgana.
I took a step back, almost accepting the fact that she wouldn’t train for the rest of our journey and it would be wisest to let her sulk in the room and face the consequences of going in blind.
But just as I turned to leave, a soft sound caught my attention. A muffled sob slipped through the cracks of the door, tugging at a chord deep within me. For all her fiery demeanor and sharp tongue, Morgana’s vulnerability shone through in that moment, breaking down the walls she had so carefully constructed. I knew she wanted to be seen as a force to be reckoned with, a fighter with this impenetrable shield protecting her heart.
In the end, she was the glass Erynna claimed she wasn’t.
And I didn’t blame her for that. How could I? I was the reason she was forced into this sick, twisted life. I was the reason she shattered.
I thought about leaving her be, just as I had turned to do, but I understood what this loneliness did to a person. I knew firsthand the horrors an aching mind did to the body. I had professors and my sister to get through it.
Who did Morgana have?
Taking a deep breath, I removed one of my gloves and wove the shadows into intricate patterns, casting a mesmerizing dance of darkness and light against the door. As the shadows twisted and turned in a hypnotic display, I murmured an incantation under my breath.
A soft whisper filled the air, carrying the weight of my words as they seeped through the cracks in the door. My voice traveled beyond the barriers between us. “Morgana, will you open the door?”
It was no harsher than a whisper. But her sobs silenced, and the shadows that acted as my voice retreated into my palm slowly. I watched the swirls dance across my skin, yearning for freedom. For the power I often refused.
They lusted to do many terrible things.
If I did not help Morgana master that, hers would too.
I closed my eyes, wondering if I should knock, force the lock open, or sit on the floor and wait for her to leave the room, but I took another step back. It wasn’t until the softest click echoed into the hall of the train cart.
The door creaked open, revealing Morgana’s disheveled appearance. Her eyes, usually sharp and challenging, now held a raw vulnerability that struck a chord within me. She stood there, framed by the dim light filtering in from the corridor, a silent plea evident in her gaze.
“Aster,” she said quietly, a question laced in her frown.
I held her stare. The wariness ebbed off her like a resounding drum—the flickering uncertainty mingled within.
“I didn’t mean to intrude,” I said beneath my breath. “But—well, I did mean to intrude, Morgana. I heard your cries.”
Morgana took a half step back, annoyance and embarrassment warring for dominance. In the end, her vulnerability won. She’d never hide that. Not in this state. “And you care why?” she asked. “You are my captor, Aster. If you had any wits to you, you’d have locked this door from the outside and kept me in until I drove myself mad.”
My lips quirked in a bittersweet smile. “Perhaps I lack those wits.”
She studied me. For a while, I wondered if she was waiting for my next command, or perhaps inviting me to exit so she could return to her solitude, but she stepped aside, wordlessly welcoming me into the cramped compartment. The air inside was heavy with the scent of her perfume—akin to dried lavender and lemon—with the subtlest hint of dust ruining it all. It was only two carts away from the royal carts Erynna and I occupied. Her belongings were sparse too, but that wasn’t a surprise.
After I stepped inside, the door closed softly behind me. It echoed like a finality in the confined space. When I faced her, her back was pressed against the wooden frame, her eyes avoiding mine as if searching for something familiar to ground herself with. Her hands fidgeted with the frayed edge of her worn sleeve.
She almost seemed skittish. An animal ready to flee.
“Not very wise to be in such close proximity to your captor,” she said beneath her breath. “Far too dangerous.” Suddenly, I wondered if she was searching for a distraction, or a proper weapon. I merely grinned. “But it wouldn’t be very wise to harm you, would it?”
“Simply not enough alibis.” A pause, and then I added beneath my breath, “Especially not after that kiss.”
Her cheeks turned red. “Correct.”
Those lips curved into the fragmented essence of a smile. I wanted time to stop so I could hold onto the picture of happiness, however shallow it was, but I turned my focus to the floor and cleared my throat. “Do you wish to speak about what happened earlier?” I asked.
The question felt poisonous, yet tempting. I almost apologized on instinct for such a rash query. Of course she did not want to speak about it. It was our shadows calling to one another. Nothing more, nothing less.
She did not wish to kiss me.
“Do you wish to?” she asked in response. Her head dipped forward, the shadowed sadness darkening her features. “I am sorry for kissing you, Aster. I do not know what came over me.”
I felt a pang of regret in her words. I didn’t know what to say at first, my conflicting emotions tugging at the frayed edges of my resolve. The floor beneath my feet creaked as I took a step forward. Her eyes lingered on my ungloved hand, but I used my other to tuck a finger beneath her chin and force her to acknowledge me. Even through the thick leather, sparks ignited across my skin at the slight touch.
“There is no need for apologies.”
Her cheek flushed, lips parting with a lost, unspoken response.
“Do you remember when I told you that our shadows sing to one another?” I asked. She nodded. I let go of her chin and took a step back to give her space, the air between us growing frigid at the lost contact. I turned away from her to pace, fixating my focus on the messy bed sheets. There was a hand cloth balled up next to her pillow, the modest makeup she’d worn coloring spots black. “I’ve never felt it before. Not quite like this. With my sister, my cousin… they toy with one another. It is this call to mischief, if you will. If Erynna were any more like our cousin, then we would be in trouble. With you, however, the call is there. It is dangerous.”
“You do not need to make excuses for me,” she said, her voice cold and cutting. “The pity is unwarranted. Truly.”
“And who is to say I am pitying you?” I snapped back, balling the glove in my fist. She didn’t answer, so I shook away the frustration and sighed. “It is as tempting to me, Morgana, as it is for you. There is simply no room for pity.”
It was the sort of admission I hadn’t expected to make. The confession was heavy, and as my ears perked, I could hear her mortal-enough heart beat pounding within her chest. Only she wasn’t fully mortal, was she?
Not with the Goddess of Death’s curse pounding in her veins.
“My sister, cousin, and I had well over a decade to master this. The chaos of it all is not easily ignored, but if you listen to us, it will become nothing more than a nuisance. Perhaps a hissing voice for your ears only, or the tingling plea to do something you know is not right, but they will not control you. You, little dove, will control it. ”
Her jaw tightened at the mention of the curse. “I do not know if I want to control it.”
I stilled. Atlas had told me the same thing at the University. I thought about insulting her, about comparing her to the would- be usurper, but she didn’t know the toxic truth behind such an accusation. I swallowed the anger.
“Then it will consume you. You’ve seen the power it holds already, Morgana. One day, you won’t know the difference between good and bad. Reality and fiction. The shadows will use you as their host, and they will guide you to the darkest depths of Vespera where you will perish.”
She finally moved from the door, hands folded in front of her as she stopped in front of me. Her eyes danced between mine for a long while, and I merely waited. The lavender haze of her perfume sent me reeling, and the magic within me danced at the thought of memorizing it in whichever way I could.
“I am not afraid.” She paused, her voice no louder than an unwavering whisper. “If the shadows wish to dance, Prince Aster, then I shall lead. I just needed to know the risk.”
A weight lifted off my shoulder. There was a chance that she turned out just as wicked as Atlas. A very strong chance. But Atlas never made such confessions. He was never so self-aware.
In that moment, I saw beyond the vulnerable captive. I saw a woman unyielding in the face of darkness.
She was remarkable.
Morgana looked down at my hand, her warm skin brushing against mine before lifting it by grabbing the tip of my pointer finger. She twisted it around in the light, her caramel eyes dancing across the swirls and lines that shifted across my skin. I turned my palm to the ceiling, allowing the magic to materialize into an inky dove. Her eyes widened as the creature flapped its wings. She traced a finger along the intricate shape, her touch sending ripples through its form like whispers in the night.
I marveled at her curiosity. For a moment, there were no responsibilities. No duties to attend to or vows to fulfill. It was Morgana, a lady with her own plans and motivations, and I, a man without either of those things.
It felt nice.
The dove took flight from my palm, casting a shadow against the cramped walls. She watched in awe, staring long after it faded into the pre-existing darkness within the room.
Not a second later, she pleaded with me. “Teach me.”
A spark of excitement kindled in my chest at her request. As I nodded, relief flooded across her features. I took hold of her hand so I could maneuver it, her palm facing the ceiling. With my ungloved fingers, I idly traced the lines of her skin.
Her hand trembled beneath mine. “When we took the carriage to the DeBurne estate, you called to your shadows out of rage. I don’t know if you ever quite acknowledged that, Morgana, but you’ve done this once already. Perhaps twice in… in my study.”
Her face faltered. We hadn’t yet spoken of what happened that night, but I wasn’t sure if we should. I’d laid down my truth for her. Either we were attacked, or she let her magic take control. Neither was good.
Realization colored her pink, but she shook her head in defiance anyway. “I-I couldn’t. I can’t control it like you do.”
“You are correct,” I said with a small chuckle, still tracing the lines within her skin. There were sparks now, and I wondered if she felt them too. Her magic was a resounding hum in response to my touch—nothing more, nothing less. “But you will only go so far when defying the truth. I am going to guide you through this, Morgana, but it is your magic. You will be the one to control it. Once I let go, it will be on you to hold onto it, to keep the manifestation going. Whatever you want it to become, harness it into existence.”
An unspoken vow passed between us as she nodded. I lowered my focus to her hand, taking a deep breath before letting my shadows swirl across her palm. She sucked in, whistling at the cool sensation that twirled around each finger, passing along the lines within her palm before enveloping her forearm.
I pulled my finger back, dancing in the air and guiding her magic to materialize. It faltered as her hold loosened, but I tightened my grip.
“Focus,” I hissed. It was not out of frustration but rather desperation. “This is your magic, not mine. Let our shadows work alongside each other.”
The dark swirls grew thicker, more potent, as she concentrated. I could feel the raw power emanating from her. Slowly, surely, shapes started to take form. It was the gray, round, shimmering hole, runes swirling into the open space on top of it. A ring. She gasped, and my heart fell into the pit of my stomach.
I let go of her hand, just as I’d promised, and she held it there for mere seconds before the shadows ebbed away. They still danced across her skin, but they did not take form.
She choked on a sob. I felt as if I could do the same. “A ring?” I said quietly. Morgana cursed loudly, and whatever amazement that had existed on her face vanished as she started to wildly shake her arm. She tried to shoo the shadows away, pleading for it to stop.
She hissed in pain. I lunged forward and grabbed hold of her shoulders. “Control it, Morgana. Calm yourself and control it. ”
“No,” she sobbed and tried to spin out of my grasp, but I held her there. “No, you do not understand. That ring—that shouldn’t—that wasn’t?—”
“Control. It.”
My command was a growl, guttural and honest and genuine. Although she sobbed, although she winced and cried and hissed at the way this magic tried to own her, she forced her eyes shut. With a shaky exhale, the shadows exploded off her skin and misted into the air. She howled and collapsed onto her knees. I knelt beside her, resting my gloved hand on her back and pulling her into me. I hesitated but stroked some of her hair and hushed her.
“Morgana. You’ve done it. Do not let it scare you.”
“ No, ” she choked and pushed me away. I watched her scramble onto her knees and whip her head in my direction. “I’m not afraid of it. I should be. I didn’t want it to be a ring. I tried to materialize a fucking flower, Aster. That ring. That ring was my brother’s. He wore it on his neck and said it would protect us.”
That couldn’t be. Those runes were cursed. Not only were they cursed—they were my curse. The Goddess of Death etched them into the stars, cursing my entire bloodline for generations to come. That couldn’t have been Galen’s ring.
I, for one, never saw it.
If it was, then this had become much more dangerous.
This realization struck me like a bolt of lightning. I couldn’t confide in her about this. Not yet, no. If this were true, if her family had ties to the curse that not only bound us together but fated me for death, then it was no mere coincidence that the only other shadow-wielding arcanist stumbled across my vengeful night with Lord DeBurne. If this were true, then the prophecy was true.
And that would mean Morgana had to die.
“Morgana…” I whispered, holding out a hand. She jerked back, staring at the shadows that painted my skin. I flinched. I retreated. I frowned. The recoil was so natural for her. And the regret it caused was evident on her face. I knew she wanted to apologize, but I cut her off with my words. “I am going to need you to tell me everything about that ring.”
“Why?” she asked, voice trembling.
I held my breath. With a quiet exhale, I responded. “Your life depends on it.”