Chapter 42
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
MORGANA
“ W hat do you mean, my ‘life depends on it’?”
Aster let the hand drop when I made no move to accept it. “Before I spent the next few hours of daylight explaining the significance of the symbols you just summoned, I need you to describe the ring to me. I saw Galen multiple times during his time in the guard, and not once did he wear the ring.”
“Impossible,” I said, snapping at him even though I knew he hadn’t done anything to warrant it. I took a step forward and almost had the desire to hold onto him, to make contact so he could feel my truth. So I could feel his. Instead, I waved my arms around as I stammered. “Galen wore that ring everywhere. It was like this… this… this stupid good luck charm. He said it protected us.”
Aster answered my desires, first holding his hands out in surrender before grabbing my hands to still them. “Calm down. I have no doubts about the superstitions he held belief in. Let’s not focus on that right now, little dove. What did it look like? What did he tell you about it?”
It felt like the room was closing in around me. The shadows bounced along the wall, and based on Aster’s cool demeanor, I knew it was not him summoning them. Despite the chaos that grew around us, his dark gaze continued to bore into mine. He was unwavering. Patient, even.
Fear wasn’t a luxury I could afford. So I took deep yet shallow breaths, focusing too hard on mellowing my resounding heart, on drowning out the pervasive ringing in my ears.
“It was… gods, I don’t know. It was ordinary, if I’m being honest. Silver, tarnished on the inside as if it’d been worn hundreds of times, even though we knew that was not the case.”
“And how did you know that?”
“Know what?” I asked, my mind reeling. His jaw clenched at the silly question. I shook my head and looked down. “Um. Sorry, I just—I just am struggling to keep up with this. I didn’t mean to… I didn’t mean to summon it. Why did it materialize? Why did… gods, I don’t know, Aster.”
“Little dove, you’re doing a fantastic job.” He paused long enough for me to note the way my heart fluttered at the praise. I forced my head up to meet his stare, watching it bounce across my face. “How did you know it wasn’t worn thousands of times? When did it come into his possession?”
This was when I froze. I rubbed my lips together and shook my head, trying to clear the fear lodged in my throat. I couldn’t confess such a dark truth to him. No, not even that—I refused to relive it. If I told him where we got it from, then he’d want to know more.
And I did not have the willpower or strength to retell the terrors my brother and I had escaped.
“Morgana?”
My vision had blurred. The ringing in my ears had all but deafened his question. His plea to continue.
“I’m sorry,” I managed to croak out, my voice barely above a whisper as I fought to keep myself composed. “It was given to him by our father before we escaped.”
“Your father,” he said. It was a question, but it sounded like a statement. As if he were confirming my truth. When I nodded, his expression shifted and his hands tightened around mine. “And how did your father acquire it?”
This was when I truly lost my voice. The tears stung in my already blurry eyes, and although I blinked them away, they permeated once more.
I took a step back, yanking my hands from his so I could pace. “I need—I need air, Aster. Where can I get air?”
“Morgana, we are on a train. You… you remember that, don’t you?”
There was a joke riddled in his tone, but it was mostly of concern. I tittered and grappled my fingers through my hair, yanking the strands at my scalp.
“Aster, you’re never going to understand this, but I didn’t grow up under great circumstances. I had no servants running around corridors—which, mind you, your corridors were larger than entire sections of our home. My family comes from an occult. They believed in vicious things. In turn, they did vicious things.”
The shadows clung to his form, accentuating the sharp angles of his face, the determination in his crimson eyes. Wariness crept onto his face as I warred with this. I cursed and leaned forward, worried I was going to be sick, or pass out. Maybe both?
Perhaps I’d choke on my own sickness. I wouldn’t have to relive this in the afterlife.
Hopefully.
“My father was the leader of a group who basically worshipped Vespera. They thought that the shores of death and darkness would be our refuge. I was too young to understand it, but it boiled down to a few basic concepts. Women were to breed. Men were to seed. Children were an unfortunate consequence until they were old enough to do the same.”
The silence. It stung me to the bone, and I stumbled toward the metal bed frame and cursed beneath my breath. The air was getting caught in my throat no matter how hard I focused on breathing, and my knees were going to give way. And, gods, every time I opened my eyes, I felt like the room was spinning. If this train didn’t stop moving, I was going to jump out the nearest exit and let it run over me.
I clung to the bed frame for support, my entire body trembling. Aster hadn’t said a word, and to be frank, I was scared to look at him.
“Children reached maturity, according to my father and his cultish beliefs, at ten. That was when Galen started journeying with him on trips. That was when… that was when my father started inviting his disciples t-to?—”
I choked on a gag and shook my head. I hadn’t realized how close Aster had gotten until his hand was on my back. His voice had been an afterthought until it was cooing at me to stop. To take a breath. I closed my eyes and focused on the words, shuddering violently. From the breath in my lungs, to the steadiness in my legs, I shook.
“Pain is a rite of passage to them. Children had to learn that at a young age. I was maimed. Abused. Used. Aster, if Galen and I hadn’t left, I would be dead.”
“Morgana,” he said, his voice clear as day now that the ringing had subsided. “You don’t need to do this. I didn’t know?—”
“No. Shush. ”
He did. I straightened my posture and sniffled, wiping away the tears and bending my legs to stop the tingling. I still couldn’t look at him. I refused.
“When I was eleven and my brother was fourteen, our father revealed the ring. He was going to be the next prophet. The leader to guide this cult into a new age, where they’d find ways to survive the wrath of Vespera. That ring is the only thing that holds it all together. Now, Galen had an idea about what was happening to me, but not the extent. He returned home that night when I and the other girls were being lashed.”
“Lashed,” he repeated, his voice the husk of what it had once been. “Morgana…”
I struggled to fight off the memories flooding through me. I needed to ground myself, or I’d fall back into this sick cycle of numb agony. Finally turning to face Aster, I saw the same mixture of sorrow and rage etched into his face that had existed within my chest. The storm brewed within his dark crimson eyes. It was beautiful. It was terrifying. It was quite literally the only thing keeping me sane.
“We were being punished for our disobedience. Really, it was a reminder of our place.” The images flashed before my eyes—the searing pain, the metallic taste of blood, the echoing cries of the girls I’d considered sisters. Not by blood, but by trauma. “I remember the look on his face when he barged in. I normally didn’t scream, and if I had kept up that streak, he probably wouldn’t have found us. When he saw me on the ground, bloodied and broken, he didn’t hesitate. I knew my brother had been training, but I didn’t know the extent to which he’d learned to fight. He attacked our father. I don’t know if he died that night, even to this day, and I don’t quite care. Galen took the ring with him when we fled.”
Aster inhaled sharply, cutting through the heavy silence after I stopped talking. The rattling of the train against the metal railway was the only thing preventing me from screaming, crying, yelling.
“He told me the symbols on the silver ring represented rebirth. I told him it was a bad omen. I don’t know which was right.”
After what felt like an eternity, his low voice was a careful chord that eased my trembling nerves. “I had no idea the pain you endured, Morgana. I am… I am truly sorry.”
There was no trickery in his tone. There was even a depth of empathy that caught me off guard. It was like he might shatter, no more delicate than a feather in the wind.
“What has been done is done,” I whispered, shaking my head as the terror inched closer to my heart. I’d cut too deep, gotten too close to the trauma I’d buried deep. “So, Aster. You know, quite literally, everything I know about that gods-damned ring. So, tell me what you meant about my life depending on it.” Not five seconds had passed before I took a step closer to him, our chests flush and breaths intermingled. “ Please. ”
There was no reason for the proximity outside of the comfort it gave me. He’d explained to me why this happened. I knew this. But that did not mean I wouldn’t use it for my own good.
Aster’s breath hitched, his head tilting down to hold my stare. “Little dove, are you sure you want to talk about this right now?”
“I’ve never been so certain of anything in my life.”
A terribly sad smile cracked onto his lips. I wanted to unpack it, to understand every wicked little thought that danced across his mind, but I waited in silent patience.
“Well. The prophecy states that the cure exists within forbidden magic, in a ‘realm so tragic.’” His voice was a gentle caress, his breath tickling my forehead as he made no move to create space. The heat of his presence was enough to keep me engrossed. “When the Goddess of Death imposed this supposed curse, she left artifacts across our world. They’re crafted of starlight and bound by runes. The mirror is one, and we know it exists because I’ve seen it and lost it all in the matter of days. It’s been a chase to locate it and return it home.”
“And the others?” I whispered.
“There is a ring. It was largely a myth, but it is said that if worn by somebody starbitten, it heals. The mirror rejuvenates. Slows the degradation that my curse imposes when the body has given up.”
“And you believe they are your cure?”
I watched the notch in the center of his throat move as he swallowed. “There is a third artifact. Without all three, they are merely celestial objects. Powerful, valuable, but worthless.”
My brows furrowed. His gloved hand grazed my cheek, and then he tucked a section of my hair behind my ear.
“I have told you once that I have reason to believe you are my answer, Morgana Kyllingham. And tonight you have all but confirmed that. I believe you are that third artifact.”
“Aster—”
“We need to find this ring.” His hand cupped the back of my neck, and for a moment, I thought he was going to kiss me. “The prophecy implies that if the magic within the artifacts is released back to the stars, it will appease the goddess and return things to order. I don’t know what that means if you are my answer, little dove, but I will do everything in my means to find out.”
My heart leapt into my throat, and in that split second, I realized something.
I did not fear him.
It was when he hugged me instead that I tensed, lingering desire gnawing at my gut. I closed my eyes and breathed out, allowing his cologne presence to envelop me—bold amber kissed by the petrichor of autumn. He smelled like a forest in the best way. He smelled like comfort. And, away from the castle, that smoke which had lingered in his clothes was no more.
“I cannot tell you I understand everything about this, but I think fate had reasons to bring us together. And, unfortunately, fate is often a lethal thing.”
Slowly, I wrapped my arms around him to fully accept the hug. That was when my lip trembled and the tears silently fell down my cheek. I didn’t sob. I didn’t so much as make a sound.
I merely cried into his chest.
“You think fate intends to kill me?” I asked. The question felt foolish.
His nose nestled into my hair, and he sighed. He created enough space to look down at me, his thumb reaching to wipe the tears away. “I think this curse intends to do what it does best. Ruin our lives and take as many people with it as it can.”
“And it would be foolish to think either of us could stop it.”
He grinned, the genuine happiness evident in his tone as he whispered, “Fools do foolish things, little dove. I am not yet done with you, and if fate thinks it can steal you from me, then it will have a terrible time trying.”