This Shattered Star (This Shattered Star #1)

CHAPTER ONE

I’d always admired the way blood shimmered under starlight.

When left unattended, the crimson substance often pooled into something that rivaled the night sky itself.

Maybe that was why I lingered by the man’s body, watching as his life’s essence rapidly spread into a thick puddle around him.

I’d hoped to see at least one beautiful thing tonight. One last beautiful thing in the short hours before my certain death.

And this was it. My last beautiful thing, woven into this man’s final moments.

It wasn’t much, but I thanked the stars anyway. It had been a clean kill, after all.

I’d only needed to pierce him twice.

Careful not to step in the building puddle around him, I crouched by his side, and wiped my blade clean on his tunic. “Fool,” I chastised softly.

As only a fool would walk down this alley with their back unattended, especially if they were alone.

My own back was carefully turned towards the walls of the alley—the safer, wiser thing to do, while I admired my work. Hues of periwinkle, cobalt, and evergreen danced across the puddle of crimson so dark it was nearly onyx. An almost perfect replica of the twinkling sky above.

My grandmother would be proud.

Scoffing, I stood swiftly, teeth clenched together so tightly my jaw ached. My grandmother had no room in her ice-coated heart for praise. Not where I was concerned.

Haughty laughter slid towards me, bouncing off cobblestone and punctuated with the crash of broken glass. A signal that it was time for me to get as far away from this man as I possibly could before someone discovered me crouching over him like a vulture.

Raising the hood of my cloak over my head, I shot one last glance at the shimmering liquid before bolting into the shadows. My feet were quick but quiet, accustomed to sneaking around places I wasn’t supposed to be, and well versed in the art of fleeing when a tide of trouble approached.

But the particular tide of trouble that approached as the hour ticked on was not one that I could flee from.

Echoes of music, streaming from all corners of the kingdom, haunted my every step. Banners drenched in navy and silver waved at me in farewell.

They only appeared once a year, boasting a dagger poised to strike overtop an eight-pointed star. I’d never paid them much heed until the few nights leading up to this one.

Celebrations in honor of the Starlight Trials had begun exactly nine days ago. Ravenous for violence and bloodshed, the swell of people lining Aedreath’s streets had ramped up the intensity of their feasts and festivities. Many could be found drinking and dancing at all hours.

And all were none the wiser to know exactly what kinds of debauchery happened in shadowy alcoves.

Exactly like the one I’d stained red.

If the king noticed the rise in intensity revolving the celebrations, he didn’t care. He was likely partaking in the debauchery himself, tucked into one of the castles many ballrooms with a drink in each hand.

Not that I’d seen him myself. I made sure to keep well away from his presence ever since he’d all but announced my certain death in front of the entire kingdom.

“You’re not going to die.”

The lie left a bitter taste on my tongue as I uttered it, tiny clouds drifting past my parted lips in the frigid air. I repeated it continuously while I moved, slipping in and out of the familiar gloomy alcoves leading to the castle.

The Starlight Trials were ripe with Aedreath’s most powerful magic wielders, desperate to prove their worth.

The Starlight Champion—the one who would successfully complete all three trials—would earn a place in the king’s court if they weren’t born into it already. But that wasn’t the prize, not truly.

No, what the competitors really risked their lives for was permission to cross the Veil, just once.

That gift allowed them to carry out the ultimate heist.

Beyond the protective magical barrier that surrounded Aedreath sat an ancient temple nestled among nightmares and ruin. One that housed unspeakable amounts of magic, unwilfully abandoned during the rise of the Dark, and the war that followed.

The Temple of Borealis.

If a Starlight Champion got their hands on what lay inside, very few, save for the king, could rival them in magical power.

To be chosen as a competitor was considered one of the kingdom’s highest honors. But when the king called out my name in front of thousands, I considered it a death sentence.

Eloise Fennhaven. Competitor. Gods-cursed.

Two titles I did not ask for. Two titles that, when woven together, would lead to the most unfortunate of disasters.

Many trained for the Starlight Trials their entire lives. Honed their magic into a weapon crafted solely for death, destruction, and most importantly, victory.

The sort of training that I did not have.

Bile coated my throat and tongue, sour to the point that I expected to vomit.

“You’re not going to—” A strangled gasp split the lie into pieces as an arm locked itself around my neck with enough force to send me backpedaling. I stumbled right into the front of my assailant, cold air nipping at the back of my neck as my hood fell.

“If I were you, I would start thinking the opposite.”

The threat rang true, made worse by the smooth voice seemingly crafted of darkness itself. And yet, my attacker’s lips ghosted across shell of my ear as he spoke. A gesture reserved for sweet nothings, twisted by violence and the promise of death.

Notes of smoke and ash flooded my nostrils, pungent and overwhelming. A fire wielder, then, if he carried that scent with him.

But sharp metal bit into the underside of my chin instead of the blistering heat of flames. Blood would spill if I moved more than an inch. And it would not be beautiful this time.

I could almost hear that man’s soul, cackling at the irony of it all. He had every right to.

The alley was barren, giving me nothing at all in terms of advantage. No light shone from the other side of the cracked, dust-coated window facing us, which came as no surprise. All of the buildings in this area were decrepit and abandoned. Or otherwise used for temporary, illegal residence.

My distorted reflection stared back at me, a hundred different versions of narrowed brows and a growing snarl pictured on each cracked fragment.

“My grandmother will flay you alive if she hears of this,” I seethed at my attacker’s equally fragmented reflection.

Their own hood sat perfectly fixed atop their head, concealing their features.

“She will hunt you down until you’re torn open at her feet.

” My words remained even despite the pressure around my windpipe.

I swallowed yet another scream as anger cleaved a burning hole through my chest. I’d been so, so careful. Never had I been caught once in the last nine years. And on the one night that mattered—

“I’m not scared of either Fennhaven, sweetheart.” His lips trailed from my ear down to my cheek, his breath a soft caress across my skin.

He retracted his blade momentarily to pull down his hood. A strand of hickory dark brown hair fell over his brow, while the rest of it sat in tousled waves atop his head.

I schooled my surprise into a stony wall of boredom. “It is against the law to kill another competitor before the trials.” My fingers flexed at my sides, itching to grab the dagger at my hip.

I gambled weak cards. By the way his eyes met mine through the reflection of the window, he knew it, too.

Kodhan Dreadmourne, son of the King’s General, was known for many things. And bending the law was one of them.

As the Son of the Second, he was a prince in his own right. Should the king fall, his father—the Second—would hold the crown in his stead, until the gods anointed him, too. There was no reason for them to choose otherwise, not when he was the perfect candidate.

Though the sheer arrogance that oozed from Kodhan’s tight posture proved he did not need a crown upon his brow to get what he wanted. Not that his father lifted a single finger to stop him, so long as it didn’t affect him, or the king, directly.

One could only guess that was why he’d been chosen to compete. Another display of power. They knew he’d win.

That he was untouchable.

Maybe he wouldn’t kill me outright. But in this alley cloaked in shadow, with only the stars as witnesses, he would make me beg for it.

We hadn’t crossed paths once since his father brought him back from their family’s secluded estate, hidden within the northern mountainous edges of the kingdom, a little over one month ago. Miraculously cured from the sickness that led him to be taken away in the first place when he was very young.

And I preferred it that way. The rumors would stay just as they were. I wanted nothing to do with his antics. Stayed as far away from the whispers of his name as possible.

But he’d chosen to bring his antics directly to me instead.

“Is it even fair to consider you a proper competitor?” Kodhan drawled, bringing his blade up to rest under my right eye.

“The only woman in Aedreath without an inkling of magic. Cursed by the gods. I’m surprised you haven’t already fallen to your knees, begging me to put you out of your misery.

I could give you a swift death, you know.

” His cruel laugh rumbled against my back.

“Better than what you’ll face in the trials.

Surely you’re smart enough to know that. ”

“I didn’t ask for this, Kodhan,” I hissed, glaring not at him, but at myself. At the iris that had wrecked my life since the moment I was born.

My left iris shone blue, like my father’s. But it was my right iris that everyone blamed for my non-existent magic. The one boring resemblance to the lavender that sprouted throughout my mother’s gardens.

It marked my curse. Proof of the gods’ wrath against the crime I’d committed by merely existing.

Kodhan hummed in agreement, yet his arm tightened around my throat, further restricting my airflow.