Starside

Chapter 32 #2

I know he probably wants me to leave it behind. “But—”

He rips it over my head in one smooth motion.

“That cave, up in the mountains. You go there,” he yells, motioning northeast, to the faint shape of a mountain I can barely see through the rain. He says it like a general ordering his forces. Then, without waiting for my response, light clutched in his hand, he runs in the other direction.

I realize what he’s doing immediately.

Shit.

I try to run after him, but he’s so much faster, even with the armor. It doesn’t really slow him that much, not really, no matter what I said.

He disappears in the blur of the rain. I stay rooted in place, listening to those hooves as they change course. As they chase him.

Raker is the best warrior I’ve ever seen. He also doesn’t really give a shit about me. This isn’t some sort of noble sacrifice. This is him telling me I’ll just get in the way.

He’s going to be fine. That’s what I tell myself as I take a breath and start to move, sprinting to the hill, and the cliff carved into its side.

My boots slip and my knees crash against the rock. Dirt gets lodged beneath my nails. But I finally make it to the mouth of the cave. A curtain of water is spilling over it, runoff from the top of the hill. I dart through the entrance, and finally, I’m dry.

I didn’t realize how cold the rain was, until now. My skin is pebbled. My teeth chatter.

Arms crossed over myself for warmth, I stand there, for a few minutes. Then, almost an hour, just waiting.

Waiting.

Raker doesn’t return.

Dread starts to crawl through my blood. Should I—should I go looking for him?

No. I think about when I bolted through the Storm Woods, believing I would save him. He’s the head of the king’s guard. He’ll have had a plan. A way to distract them or lead them away.

I sit. And wait.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

Quiet.

Scrapes echo against the stone like nails scratching a wall. I groan, turning over, realizing I fell asleep waiting for him.

A step sounds close by.

Raker.

Relief slams into me. I open my eyes, blinking away sleep, only to see a creature with a skull-like face reaching toward me, with claws of glimmering steel. They scrape against each other gently as they stretch out. Fear grips my chest.

Demon.

Without moving, my gaze travels to the mouth of the cave, where the rain has stopped. The water that was like a door in front of it is gone.

I don’t dare breathe. I don’t dare blink.

The claw goes right toward my face, sliding against my cheek—not stopping until it reaches my sword, still on my back, the metal peeking up from behind me. My hands tremble against the stone ground.

The creature seizes. Stops. Then it throws its head back and screeches, revealing rows of sharp, mismatched teeth.

That’s when I strike. I kick it with all my strength, and when it staggers back, I reach for my sword, fast as ever. It recovers quickly, and lunges forward.

I put my blade up to block it, both hands gripped tightly around its hilt. Entranced by my metal, the demon launches forward, claws of steel extended, reaching.

It hits me with the force of a wagon, slamming me against the wall with blinding speed. My head hits the jagged rock. My vision spins.

Those claws reach past my blade and wrap around my neck.

I gasp.

Before they can shred my throat to ribbons, the demon is pulled back by its protruding spine.

Raker doesn’t waste a moment before putting his blade right through its skull.

Raker.

Relief washes over me in a wave. Not just because he saved me from the demon. But because he’s … alive.

Chest heaving, I grip the wall for purchase. I shoot a look at the mouth of the cave, and the water that’s no longer there, but mercifully, it seems we won’t need it any longer. The entrance begins to be bathed by the first signs of day.

But Raker isn’t looking at the sunrise. He’s not looking at the dead creature. No, he’s looking at me.

At my throat.

He takes a step forward. Am I bleeding? The cuts can’t be deep or I would be dead. I reach a hand up.

And that’s when I feel it. The long tears in the fabric. I swallow.

“What. Are. Those?” is all he says.

“Nothing,” I say, voice sharp, as if I could command him to forget this.

Instead, he takes a slow step toward me. Another. I can hear the intensity of his breathing. “They are very clearly not nothing.”

I turn to leave, but his arm juts out, blocking my path.

I could stab him. I don’t know if it would do me any good. He’s seen them already. There’s no taking that back.

The fear, the shame, the guilt of these markings … it has consumed me like a poison. Now the truth is out. It can’t ever be locked away again.

“What. Are. Those?” he asks again.

Instead of shrinking away, I lift my chin.

Fuck shame. Fuck hiding. I’ve been through too much—this body has survived too much to be ashamed of itself.

I rip my shirt over my head and throw it to the ground. Only the tight band of fabric around my breasts remains. He sees it all now.

Silver. Thin roots of silver, faintly sparkling through the remaining darkness.

The exact color a knight like him has trained to hunt and kill.

He doesn’t say anything. He’s staring. I can feel the heat of his eyes on my bare skin. Panic races through my blood, years of fearing knights and getting discovered rushing through me. I want to run.

But enough.

I stand very still, spine straight.

And he shakes his head. “Impossible,” he breathes. Then he lifts his gaze slightly. I can almost feel his eyes boring into mine. “How?”

I don’t want to tell him. I want to keep this secret for the rest of my life—but all the people who know this story are dead. The truth of that slams into my soul, and my eyes burn.

I have the sudden urge to tell someone. Because maybe … maybe that would lessen the shame. Maybe I wouldn’t feel so alone.

The words come out in a whisper. “When I was eight, my sister and I snuck out of the house. We went to a nearby cliff, to the only remaining patch of grass. We wanted to steal a few pieces. We thought we could bury it in our backyard and make the green grow. We … we were hoping to find wildflowers too. Out of nowhere, the sky changed. The storm struck. I could feel it coming. Right toward my sister.” I swallow.

“I pushed her out of the way, and the lightning struck me instead.”

I take a shaking breath.

“My sister was just a little kid, but she pounded on my chest for hours. My parents eventually found us, in the rain, and my father didn’t stop trying to get my heart started again.

He never stopped. He never gave up on me.

None of them did. Until it worked. My eyes opened.

And the red marks from the lightning turned silver. ”

I don’t tell him that it’s my biggest regret, pushing my sister out of the way. That if it had hit her instead, maybe she would still be alive, after what happened later.

“Lightning,” he says roughly.

I nod.

Slowly, so slowly, he reaches toward me. He gives me more than enough time to stop him, but I don’t. I just watch as his long fingers get closer and closer to my bare skin.

Then his rough thumb is gently trailing down my neck over the markings, and I gasp.

A chill rains down my spine. No one but him has ever touched me there.

Anywhere, really. His thumb is callused, but his touch is featherlight, just like it was in the cave.

He strokes my pulse, then across my collarbone, before following the markings down, touching me in a path, like he’s tracing a constellation.

Down my chest. Farther still, until he reaches its center.

His large hand splays out, his fingers curling over my breasts. My skin prickles.

Out of nowhere, he stops, ripping his hand away.

Then, without another word, he turns and leaves the cave.

“They’re silver, Jesper.”

“I know they are.” My dad sounds tired. My sister and I have our ears to the door. I sink low and peer at my parents through the keyhole.

My mother’s face is in her hands. “What are we going to do?”

My father places his palm on her back. “We’re going to protect her, at all costs,” he says, his voice steady. “We’ll never let them take her away.”

My mother shakes her head. “Never,” she promises. “If they find out … they’ll never stop chasing her.”

“Who?” my sister asks from up above. I shush her. I don’t really know. The king? He’s known for his greed. Perhaps he wishes he was silver.

“His knights will come for her,” my mother says, her voice now steady. “One day, they will all come, and they will try to take her. They will … they will try to destroy her.”

My father’s voice is as firm as I have ever heard it. I feel the strength of it in my bones, distilled from pure anger and determination. “Let them try.”

Just when I thought we had formed a tentative truce, we’re back to silence.

He knows about my markings. That one fact makes me feel bare, exposed, at a disadvantage. It’s one of my greatest secrets. For my entire life, I’ve hidden away, afraid that someone would find out about them and take me from my family.

Especially the knights of the king’s guard. Let alone its damned leader.

I feel shame crawling across my skin for what I am, all that confidence in tatters. The way Raker stormed out doesn’t make me feel any better.

For nearly an entire day, he doesn’t talk to me. He doesn’t even look at me. It’s like I’m invisible. Or disgusting.

Am I that strange? That repulsive? I haven’t seen many people shirtless, but my markings don’t seem that noticeable. Or maybe they are.

We reach a long field with grass that shines and curls like ribbon. It’s beautiful.

I can hardly notice that beauty. Inside, my emotions are battling. We’ve been through countless obstacles together. Traveled side-by-side for weeks. After all the stones taken down from this wall between us, I refuse to let it build up again.

I stop walking. Raker keeps going. Of fucking course he does.

“If you’re going to kill me, just do it already.”

I unsheathe my blade. I stand my ground.

At that, he pauses. His shoulders stiffen.

“Kill you?” he says from up ahead.

“Kill me,” I say. “Or capture me. Or whatever else the king does with the silver he collects.”

He still has his back to me. His voice is a snarl. “You think I would hand you over to the king?”

I keep my hands tight on my blade, knowing his metal could be against mine in a flash. “You serve him.”

“I serve no one,” he spits.

I scoff. “That’s very interesting, considering you’re literally the head of his guard.”

He doesn’t say a word.

So, I keep speaking. “I heard you talking to him, promising to bring something back. What is it? The magic? Is that why you’re on this quest? For him?”

Raker makes a derisive noise. “I’m not on the Questral for anyone but myself.” I remain rooted in place. Blade up.

“So, if you’re not going to kill me … why … why won’t you look at me?” I take a shaking breath.

And I feel stupid for even saying the words. But I can’t stay silent.

Once his apathy was expected, but now … after everything … it feels like a betrayal. It hurts, and I know that rudeness and cruelty is all I should expect from Raker, but damn it, it feels like the least he can give me is his respect.

“I’ve been ashamed of my markings since the moment I got them,” I say.

“You don’t—you don’t have to make it worse.

” My voice cracks, and I fucking hate it, but I keep going.

“You might find me ugly, and that’s fine.

I don’t care. But you … you are the only person alive who has seen them, and you, of all people, should know what it’s like to keep yourself hidden.

To show yourself. And … and then to be shunned … ”

I hate that my eyes are stinging. I hate that I’m speaking at all, that I think he even cares.

“You say I don’t know you, and you’re right.

Because you haven’t told me anything. All I know is you’re a warrior who grew up near the sea, and once had siblings.

All I know is you hide your face, and you hate mercy, and you wield a blade better than probably any human in history.

Now you know one of the worst moments of my life.

You know my greatest secret. I have laid myself bare to you, and you …

you might as well be a stranger, Raker. I guess you’re just a knight …

and I’m silver. We were always meant to be enemies. Stupid of me to think any different.”

He tenses, but he doesn’t turn around. I stand there, regretting ever opening my mouth. Ever caring. I look at the ground.

Then he speaks.

“There is nothing to know about me,” he says.

“Nothing I can give you. Nothing I can offer. I am nothing but rage and vengeance, Aris. Nothing but countless kills on a blade. There is no home. No family. Nothing to look forward to. Nothing to covet. Don’t waste your time trying to figure out a person that doesn’t exist. I am nothing beyond this. ”

I swallow. “I—”

He keeps walking. He doesn’t look back.

I remain in place, watching him, the broken pieces coming together. The shards of his life. The way someone turns into Harlan Raker.

He has nothing and no one, just like me.

Maybe … maybe we really aren’t as different as we both like to think we are.

I sheath my blade, and finally, I start to move again, eyes on the grass. My skin still prickles with shame.

He doesn’t need to look at me for us to continue this journey. His notice doesn’t matter. We aren’t friends. We aren’t anything but unlikely and begrudging companions. After we reach the Land of the Gods, we’ll never see each other again. That, I’m sure of.

And I don’t know why that thought makes my stomach twist.

I’m so lost in my head, that I don’t even hear the hissing, not until it’s so loud, it’s impossible not to notice.

I squint. I take a step forward, reaching back for my blade, only to stop in front of a long, coiled snake with sparkling silver scales.

It reminds me of the one in the maze. The one that looked at me, with far too much awareness.

This one does too. Its forked tongue flicks out, and then it rises, inch by inch, until it nearly reaches my height. It stares at me with bright silver eyes, rimmed in red. I inhale sharply. I know those eyes.

I’ve seen them before.

A flash of memory shocks me still. Silver-red eyes, burning through the fire. Silver hair, floating as she—

Far ahead, Raker has turned.

“Aris,” he yells. “Aris, don’t—”

Whatever he says fades away when the serpent lunges—and bites the place between my neck and shoulder.

A rattling, otherworldly pain fills me. I gasp, then seize, falling to the ground, my limbs going numb.

There’s the slice of a blade, and the hissing stops.

White-hot agony blinds my senses. It’s unlike anything I’ve ever felt before.

Everything—my nerves, my voice, my skin, the world—is screaming.

Then, like blowing out a candle, it all goes silent.