Chapter 41 #2
‘It always pleased me that in binding myself to you, joining our two great houses, I was fulfilling my father’s wish – raising the Vesparion bloodline.
Selfishly, I coveted the legitimate place our union would grant me at court.
No longer a charity ward, but a king-in-waiting.
’ Astrophel looks down. ‘But it was never a match of affection. It was never a match of our choosing. I confess I gave little thought to you as a person. You were simply a means to an end.’
I finally manage to wrench my hand free. ‘You told me as much ahead of the ceremony.’
His eyes cut to mine. ‘I didn’t know you then, not really. Only the lies your father fed me since childhood.’ His face darkens. ‘To tell the truth, I’m not sure how well I knew myself…’
A pained expression twists his features, and I have to fight the sudden, unexpected urge to reach out and stroke his cheek. He looks so lost. So young.
‘I beg forgiveness for every cold look, every harsh word.’ Astrophel’s voice turns rougher, more earnest. ‘I intend to make you a good consort, Leilani. I believe we can make a success of our binding. We’ve much in common and I’ve come to respect you, to admire you, to…’
I thread my fingers, offering up a silent prayer that Astrophel doesn’t, for the love of all that’s sacred, finish that sentence. Even without looking in his direction, I know Blayze is watching us. I can only hope Astrophel is speaking sufficiently low he can’t hear any of this.
‘In the end, even the most ardent passion wanes,’ Astrophel continues.
‘But mutual respect, shared values, a common purpose, these will sustain a union over a lifetime.’ He heaves a weighted sigh.
‘I understand temptations can present themselves – might make you question proceeding with our binding – but we have a duty to our realm and to our people, above and beyond that we owe to ourselves.’
Temptations? My stomach drops. I think back to the strange expression on Astrophel’s face when he saw me and Blayze together in that first ice-cabin, the way he stared at the Clanschief’s hand on my shoulder earlier.
I drop my gaze before my eyes start to mist over, but colours are already bleeding, fanning out around him.
I ignore the sunny glow, and what I know it means, focusing instead on the flecks of acid green.
My stomach unclenches. I blink the dark spots staining my vision away.
It’s as I thought. Astrophel may suspect, but he doesn’t know.
‘More than any of that,’ he says, catching hold of my hand again, ‘I want to make this work. I want…’ He worries at his bottom lip.
‘I want to support you as you assume your rightful place on the Throne, and when the occasion of our binding comes – whenever that may be – know I’ll be honoured, proud, to walk this life alongside you. ’
I swallow hard, hoping Astrophel doesn’t notice the tremor in my hand.
What in the starry heavens am I supposed to say to that?
I care for Astrophel, enjoy his company now he’s not toadying to my father, or behaving like an affected prig.
I think back to the blind dread that consumed me when he swung off the mountain.
It’s more than simple friendship – I know that now.
He’s handsome, grounding – a fixed star in the frenzied meteor storm of my life.
I feel safe around him, and there’s an ease to our interaction.
He understands me, and the life I’ve lived.
And maybe once it would have been enough, but that was before…
I dare a look at Blayze. He’s scowling, eyes a glittering storm. He must have overheard something of what’s been said.
Just what I need, those two at each other’s throats again.
I search for something to say, some way to let Astrophel down – but gently.
A stifled sob from the other side of the cabin saves me. Tansy is sitting hunched in on herself, tears glistening on her cheeks.
‘Tansy needs me,’ I whisper, slipping my hand from Astrophel’s. ‘We’ll talk more later.’
I scramble to my feet before he has a chance to stop me.
‘Is it Briar?’ I ask Tansy. Again, that cool flicker of dissent, my brandsong insisting there’s more to her tears than that.
Still, it seems a safe place to begin. ‘I understand how hard it is, being separated from your Guardian.’ And I do understand that loss.
Keenly. Without Orthriel, I’m a sunless planet, cut adrift.
Tansy dabs her face. ‘No, it’s… it’s nothing like that. I miss Briar, of course I do. I’m worried to death about her all alone in that cabin. But that’s not… that’s not why…’ Tansy’s face creases. ‘It’s the twins. Dawnrise marked their second tree-ring.’
Ignoring the dread swoop of my stomach, my visceral response to the mention of children for as long as I can remember, I drape an arm around Tansy.
‘They’re too young to understand why I’m not there,’ she sobs.
I squeeze her shoulder. ‘Glade is taking care of them, and when they’re older, they’ll understand you loved them so much, you risked your life to ensure their futures. They’ll be so proud.’
Her mouth lifts at the corners in the barest of smiles. She turns to the window, to the faint glow of the mountain peak. ‘At least it won’t be long. I’ll see them soon.’
This time it’s harder to ignore the lurch of my stomach. It will devastate Tansy when she learns we need to seek the other lost sceptres to fulfil the prophecy, that she won’t be returning to her family – not for many moons. How can I possibly hope to assuage the pain?
‘Thank you,’ Tansy says, wiping her eyes again. ‘Talking about it’s easier than trying to bear it alone.’
I’m momentarily distracted from whatever Tansy is saying by the moonslight, the lavender glow spilling through the cabin’s small, grimy window, catching the point of Tansy’s chin as she raises it to look at me.
I wonder…
I squeeze her shoulder again, but my mind is already elsewhere. Formulating a plan.
*
I WAIT TILL rasped breaths and stillness confirm the others are asleep. Folding an extra fur over my arm, I creep towards Tansy and shake her awake.
‘Put on your cloak and meet me outside.’
Tansy blinks, her eyes still sleep-glazed, then nods.
My boots crunch fresh tracks in the feathery surface hoar as I round the curve of the ledge, far enough from the cabin that even if someone wakes and looks outside, they won’t see us.
I wrap my cloak more tightly around me, warding off the icy wind, feeling for the corner of the box concealed beneath it.
After a couple of minutes, Tansy follows me out of the cabin.
‘Are the others still asleep?’
Tansy nods, stifling a yawn. Her hair is mussed, the curls wilder than ever.
I spread the extra fur and sit down, motioning for Tansy to join me, then draw the box containing the mooncrystal from the folds of my cloak.
‘What’s that?’ Tansy asks. ‘Why am I here?’
‘It’s easier if I show you.’ I open the catch and place the orb in front of me. Moonslight glances over its polished surface, and the night air bites my fingers as I place my hands either side of the crystal. ‘I don’t know if this will work, but I’d like to try…’
Taking a cleansing breath, I focus on emptying my mind, banishing the anxious thoughts running rampant there.
Yes, it’s risky. Yes, there’s a chance I’ll reopen that strange, unstable connection with Arden.
Trying this might even cost me the vision I so desperately want of my mother, but I’m about to ask Tansy to abandon her family for moonscycles, to place herself in mortal danger. I owe it to her to try this.
The tingling in my fingers is faint at first, but grows stronger, soon turning to that familiar drag, as if the crystal is leaching something vital from me. I ask the same silent question again and again, waiting for images to form in the centre of the orb. But the crystal remains silent.
My heart sinks. I’ve dragged Tansy out here for nothing.
I loosen my grip, am about to lift my hands away entirely, when a shadow swirls beneath my fingertips.
The image sharpens. A slatted interior, garlanded with brightly coloured flowers.
The faint scent of resin seems to carry on the breeze.
Two small boys, with the same tawny curls, vivid green eyes and wide smiles as their parents, sit at a wooden table.
Tansy is leaning forwards, eyes wide. ‘My boys.’
Leotie and Oakson. Finally, faces to put to the names I’ve heard so often.
The twins clap in delight as Glade winds long garlands twice around each of their necks.
Tansy stretches her fingers towards the crystal, a gasp hitching from her lips.
But the moment she touches it, my connection falters.
The vision fades, and pain blooms behind my eyes, slices through my skull.
I drop my hands to my sides. All magic has its price.
Tansy buries her head in my shoulder. ‘Thank you!’ She pulls me closer and kisses my cheek, the lichen at her temples tickling my earlobes.
I lay a cautioning hand on her wrist. ‘Don’t mention it to the others – not yet.
I wasn’t sure I could summon visions at will, whether others would be able to see the images within the mooncrystal as I can.
In time, I’d like to do the same for everyone, but I intend to scry for news of my mother tonight, and I can’t risk exhausting the crystal’s powers – or my own… ’
Not to mention the small matter of that connection to Arden.
‘I won’t breathe a word,’ Tansy says. Her face falls. ‘It will work for you again tonight? You’ll still be able to get news of your mother?’
I shake my head. ‘I’m not sure.’
‘Shall I stay with you while you try?’
I hesitate. ‘I’d prefer to be alone, I think. Besides, you should sleep. We’ve a hard climb ahead of us. And don’t you dare feel bad, not for a second,’ I add, as Tansy makes to leave. ‘You’ve done so much for all of us – I wanted to give you something in return.’
She’ll see soon enough it’s the least I could do.
*
I REST FOR a few minutes, waiting for the pounding in my head to stop.
I scan the perimeter as I wait – a reflex now.
But despite the feeling of wrongness loading the air, the niggling sensation of being watched that’s my constant companion, the mountain is still.
Conjuring that vision for Tansy doesn’t appear to have summoned Arden from wherever it is she lurks.
Taking another deep breath, I splay my fingers around the crystal again. The tickling flow of energy stutters beneath my hands, weaker this time and quavering. I concentrate harder, willing Star-Aether to flow through me.
A howl shreds the stillness of the night. My chest locks as I rip my hands from the crystal and struggle to my feet. Blayze. I recognise the gravelled timbre of his cry.
I run towards the cabin. Push open the door. Tansy’s already beside him. Blayze wears the harrowed, sleep-addled expression of his previous night terrors, but appears unharmed.
I slump against the doorframe. Not another fit. He’s safe.
But the relief lasts only a few seconds. I’ve left the mooncrystal behind. Unguarded.
I race back into the night and retrace my steps, groping frantically in the darkness with only my moonsight to guide me. At last, my fingers close around the silver case. But it’s empty – the crystal gone. I search the ledge, sweep the horizon. It’s deserted, silent as a tomb.
And then I see them. A third set of footprints in the frost.