Chapter 24
LEAP OF FAITH
LEILANI
‘WAKE UP.’
I jolt upwards, recognising the voice hissing in the darkness, that scent of sweet hay and soft leather.
A scream bubbles up my throat, but Astrophel silences it, pressing his palm hard against my mouth. His free arm brandishes his Crescent Sword.
‘Don’t move. Don’t make a sound. Understand?’
My eyes stretch wide as I nod. Does he mean to kill me? Defile me? Astrophel releases his hand slowly and I gulp for air as he tosses something at me.
Something that glitters.
‘Get dressed, we’re getting out of here.’
He points to a pile of clothes lying atop a small pack on the floor beside a stack of bedsheets.
‘Gather essentials into that pack, then rip those sheets into strips, knot them to form a rope. Tie one end to the bedpost and wait. When you hear three whistles, I need you to toss the rope from the window and climb down. Be ready to run.’ He turns for the door.
I grip the Celestial Chain tight, so the diamond chain bites my palm. ‘How—’
‘There’s no time to explain.’
‘But—’
He raises a cool hand to my cheek. ‘I need you to trust me.’
But staring into his eyes, all I remember is the crack of his whip, Briar’s forlorn nickering. How can I trust him after that? Before I can use my second-sight to read him, he’s slipping from my chamber, locking the door once more from the outside.
Dazed, I dress, then pace the room, clutching the pack. Aside from the furs the Arx Magnum gifted me on arrival and some fresh smallclothes, there’s precious little to take. I run my hand down the breeches Astrophel bade me wear. They cling to my legs, liberating yet oddly restrictive.
I slip the Celestial Chain over my head, sighing deeply as the starstone nestles against my chest. It’s heavy about my neck, but there’s a sense of rightness, of completion, as its rhythmic thrum chimes over my heart, keeping pace with my own pulse.
And yes, a thrill of something like power as well.
How did Astrophel get it back? There was no time to ask.
My attention moves to the stack of bedsheets he left.
I pause between rips, holding my breath.
But there’s no sound on the other side of the door.
Are guards still stationed there? Perhaps Astrophel drugged them.
Killed them. How else did he get the key?
Open my door? Why lock me in again? Why not take me with him?
And what of the others – are they alive? Are they escaping with us?
Astrophel explained nothing. Just left me with an endless stream of questions and those three final commands: rip the bedsheets to strips; knot them together; await his signal.
What could possibly go wrong? And where’s Orthriel when I need them?
I search the bridge between our minds. I can feel my Guardian dimly, but it’s as if they’ve turned their back. Refusing to communicate. At least, I hope that’s what it is. The alternative is they’re so weak they can’t communicate.
I join the last strips. There’ll be a bit of a drop, but it ought to work, so long as the knots bear my weight.
I tighten each one, before tying one end of the skein to the bedpost, ready to sling the other from the window on Astrophel’s signal.
I open the window wide and wrap the fur cloak closer about my shoulders as the night air rifles my chamber.
I sink to the floor and wait.
*
THREE LOW WHISTLES.
I leap to my feet and glance over the parapet. No guards beneath the window. I try not to focus on the drop – how sheer it is – as I fling the rope over the sill, and clamber after it.
I swing my legs out first. Snowflakes dance, nipping my nose and cheeks, the tips of my ears.
Its crisp mineral tang swirls the air. I settle my pack on my back and take up the rope.
My knuckles blanch as I grip it, testing its strength.
I twist my body till I’m facing Viklari’s stone wall, anchoring myself with one hand on the sill.
A deep breath in, and without giving myself a chance to overthink it, I take my leap of faith.
The knotted fabric stretches as my heart kicks wildly and my hands grow slick against the straining linen.
I bend my knees, bringing my feet to rest on the wall in front of me. I inch down the rope, focus on the cracks and missing mortar in the wall, try to remember the climbing techniques we were taught at the palace in preparation for our journey.
Don’t look down.
My knuckles ache from clinging to the rope, and my palms burn from the friction.
When I finally reach the end, I dare a quick glance over my shoulder.
A drop of perhaps six feet. I lock my jaw, brace, let go.
The snow-shrouded ground meets me, hard and unyielding, sending a jolt through my ankles and knees.
I scan the dark streets, searching for Astrophel.
Something flickers in the narrow passageway opposite. It’s him. He beckons and I dash across the cobbles, boots scrunching the light smattering of snow underfoot.
‘Stay here.’ Astrophel tugs my sleeve, towing me to an alcove where I’ll be better concealed. His breathing’s laboured and his eyes dart wildly, checking the perimeter. ‘When I whistle again, run to the city gates. Don’t stop. Don’t look back.’
‘What about the others?’
‘There’s no time.’
‘But—’
‘Can you trust me?’ Astrophel’s eyes flash. Moonsblushed, they’re almost the same lavender as mine.
I swallow. Up until an hour ago, he’d given me every reason in the four realms not to. His aura’s still slippery, amorphous, slinking out of reach of my second-sight. I can’t read him. The memories of Briar suffering at his hands are still raw. And yet…
‘Yes,’ I whisper. And, for all that I shouldn’t, it’s true.
In this moment, I do trust him. I trust him with my life.
He squeezes my hand, cool fingers laced tight about my own, holding my gaze. It’s a speaking look, but explanations will have to wait. With a weighted sigh, he releases me and darts off, melting into the shadows. I wait, back pressed to the alcove, ears pricked.
Long minutes later, heavy boots tramp in the distance. I edge forwards, careful to remain hidden, craning my neck till I spy moonslight glinting off a starburst mace. I flatten against the wall, breathing hard. A city guard.
I’m unarmed, but I have the Celestial Chain.
My palms itch to unleash starshine again, to test my theories about the relic.
But something holds me back. The memory of the exhaustion that gripped me after I summoned it at Thawtide, the splitting pain, the icy spasm in my chest, the ash brimming my mouth when I unleashed it against the hoarclaw.
Orthriel warned me not to summon starshine if I felt any ill effects. All magic has its price, and I don’t yet know the toll for wielding this.
But as the footsteps draw closer, something inside me snaps. I’ve been weak long enough. I breathe in and reach for the light.
I focus on the image of Star-Aether travelling down my arms, its energy trickling into my hands. My arms tingle and my palms start to glow. It’s working.
The footsteps are almost upon me. I lift my flaring hands to my chest, palms outwards. Gulping down air, I step from the shadows, throwing that energy in front of me. A dazzling arc of light, brighter than anything I’ve previously summoned, less wavering too. Mesmerising. Beautiful.
A yell reverberates. My heart cracks – I know that cry.
Sister’s mercy, what have I done?
Monster. Monster. Monster.
Blayze tumbles backwards, starshine striking the dead centre of his chest. He falls to the ground. The milky arc of light shimmers as it engulfs him, then flickers orange. Like he’s garlanded by a halo of flame.
And then the light snuffs out.
My hands fall to my sides, fingers humming from the force that’s just burst from them. Exhaustion rips through me, my muscles spent and shaking. The taste of ash unmistakable as coldness pierces my chest.
‘Blayze!’ I run towards him, pain splintering my skull, and kneel on the snowy ground.
His eyes are closed. He’s motionless, pale.
I trace his jaw, searching for signs of life.
Placing my ear to his chest, I lean into the vestigial warmth of him, inhaling a lungful of amber and musk that makes my head spin. I can’t find a pulse.
A sob tears up my throat as I cradle him close. Tears well. Burying my head in Blayze’s chest, I don’t try and stop them. Rocking on my heels, I sink against him and weep. Wishing I could take this back.
But then something skitters beneath his ribs. His chest lifts.
He’s breathing. I raise my head. His leg’s twitching.
Without thinking, I crush him to me again. ‘You’re alive!’
His arms tighten around my back. ‘No thanks to you, Sparkles.’ The low burn of his voice is rougher than usual, muffled against my cloak. The familiar timbre brings me back to myself with a start. I draw back, straightening my furs as I scrabble to my feet.
Blayze props himself on his elbows and attempts a lopsided grin. But the smile’s too tight, doesn’t reach his eyes. And he’s shivering. ‘Nice breeches by the way.’ His gaze roams my legs, making my stomach squirm.
Insufferable. Even in a moment like this. ‘I-I thought you were a guard,’ I say, dashing my tears away.
‘First you try to bludgeon me, now you almost blast me into the Void. Anyone would think it’s something personal.’ He runs a hand through his hair, smoothing it. ‘Remind me not to get on the wrong side of you again. A rat’s only got so many lives.’
Despite his armour of ready jokes, his attempts at deflection, Blayze is shaken.
More than shaken – he looks awful, all cheekbones and razor-sharp jawline, like he hasn’t eaten properly in moons.
His skin is dull and sallow, like when he first arrived in Meissa.
Dark, sunken circles shadow his eyes. Eyes so heavy and haunted, I almost don’t recognise them.