Chapter 48
Chapter
Forty-Eight
Alittle over a week had passed since we returned to Lumosia, and the days had been well spent.
Knowing that our time together was limited before our next expedition, I spent my mornings with Delani, the afternoons wielding or with my friends, and the evenings tucked away under the sheets with Sebastian.
I did manage to squeeze some time in with Archer, but being completely honest, I still did not feel entirely comfortable with him.
Despite him being my father, I hardly knew him, and there hadn’t been a lot of free time to bond.
About two thirds of Mealioria’s soldiers had arrived by now.
Azain introduced me to a handful, but I decided against getting too friendly with any of them, for more reasons than one.
Many of them would not survive this, and I did not need another person to mourn.
Additionally, the less they knew about me, the better.
“The rest should be here in about four days.” Azain’s voice from behind made me jump.
I watched our new troops swarm towards where I stood on the front steps of the palace, the moonlight brightening their skin by the second.
“Good.” Soon. So soon, we would get revenge. We would end this madness.
“Are you ready for this? I know Hawthorne would prefer for you to stay here. He was practically begging his cousin after breakfast to try and reason with you.”
A subtle scoff escaped me. Of course he was. He’d been nagging me all week about it. “I’ve been ready for months now.” My head turned to look at Azain’s shining, raven-colored hair. “Besides, this is my mess. You all just got dragged into it.”
He shrugged. “It's part of the job.”
“Mm,” I mumbled, shoving my hands into the pockets of my leather jacket. The summer air had crept away over the past weeks, and the crisp bite of fall had begun to nip my skin.
Azain patted my shoulder. “See you at dinner?”
I nodded, though no longer had the stomach strength to eat. All these women and men, forced to come fight for me—suddenly, I felt no different than Aldous Hawthorne.
Deciding against wallowing in my own misery, I spun on my heel and meandered through the open golden doors before me.
My legs stretched across the marble floors, forcing me to the palace’s arena. The more practice I could get in before this mission, the better.
I swiped a few practice mannequins from the storage closet—and nearly had an orgasm at the reminder of what Seb and I had done in there—then hauled them to the edge of the furthest mat.
I positioned myself on the other side of the room, putting as much space between myself and my targets as I could.
My vision skimmed the plaster-patched hole in the wall, and I prayed to the ghost of Blythe that it wouldn't need any further repair after this.
I blocked my sight with my eyelids shut, forcing deep breaths to fill my lungs to full capacity. My mind wandered to the sea. To my sister. To my friends and the love of my life. But nothing seemed to ease the fire inside of me. I couldn’t force the calm, no matter how hard I tried.
Flustered, my eyes snapped open and I raised my palms. Realistically, I wouldn’t be calm when I wielded starlight, anyways, so why bother practicing that way anymore? It wasn’t doing myself any favors—maybe the palace walls, but not me.
Energy and power buzzed. My skin prickled. My constellastones twinged and nipped at my skin as I drank in the power of the cosmos. I allowed the sensation of ever growing magic to consume me, and when I could see in my peripheral the faint glow of my skin, I set everything I had absorbed free.
The mannequin on the left exploded with a monstrous bang before fluttering ash settled upon the mat.
A smile tugged at my lips. Flawless execution. Finally.
I repeated the same process, aiming the starlight at the center figure before letting it loose.
And missing entirely.
That lack of control was what I was more used to.
The wall behind the mannequin smoldered with a sparkling smoke, but the hole hadn’t completely cleared the brick.
Progress, I guess? Similar to the time I scorched the boulder which wasn't half bad.
Catching my breath, I collapsed to the mat.
I held my arms out, watching the glow of my skin fade within seconds, leaving just the glitz of my markings.
Once we had the Hykah, Beaumont shit dealt with, I had no intentions of using my magic without probable cause. Nothing had changed since I was granted my constellastones—I still didn’t want this power.
When my skin and hair had settled back into their normal hue, I pushed back to my feet and steadied my gaze upon my last target.
Vigor flooded my chest as I stepped forward, positioning myself closer to my final enemy.
Using one hand, I drew in the stars for a final attempt, forcing them free with a flick of my forefinger.
Missed. Again. And added another blistering vacancy to the wall behind my target.
“Gods fucking damnit,” I cursed, lunging forward and kicking the mannequin in the chest with my boot. It toppled over, where it would stay until tomorrow morning when I’d come back to clean up my mess and patch the new perforation I’d created.
At least this hole was only the size of a watermelon and not a damn horse.
I grumbled through the corridor, passing through the grand foyer and then starting up the staircase towards my room. I knew when to accept a loss, and tonight was one of those times.
My heart jolted against my ribs as my hand was yanked from the railing and I was swept away by an arm around my waist, tugging me off the step and into its owner's chest.
“I’m not in the mood, Sebastian,” I grumbled, wriggling to get out of his firm grip.
He guided me to an alcove along the staircase, pushing me back into a carved, ivory column. Dark brows and cerulean eyes leveled with mine in an all too serious expression. “What's wrong, love?”
“Nothing exactly. I’m just in a mood.” A slight fabrication, but what did it matter?
Something was always wrong nowadays, and if I admitted that every time someone asked me how I was, they would send me to a shrink.
Granted, that might not be the worst thing to happen to me.
Everyone and their mother knew I could benefit from some sort of medicinal herb, but all of the ones I had tried when I was younger came with too many negatives.
Though the gods knew I could use something to take the edge off.
One of my eyebrows lifted. “What are you doing this evening?”
Sebastian’s face fought a grin. “You, ideally.”
Choosing to ignore the lustful ache between my thighs, I asked, “Wanna get high?”
“I haven’t smoked since I was like…fifteen,” I giggled, passing Sebastian the blazing herb wrapped in a hibiscus petal.
“Really?” He put the end between his lips, drawing in the pink, floral smoke. “I haven’t in a while either, but not that long. A year or two maybe,” he said through a breath of haze.
“It’s sweeter than I remember.” I licked my lips, a slight stickiness on them from the herb.
“Depends on where you get it from.” He coughed under his breath, smoke pooling from his mouth. “Azain just so happens to have the good stuff.”
“Last time I smoked it was some old ass stuff my best friend at the time had found in her brother's bedroom.” I snickered at the memory.
“The first time I smoked I was fourteen, and we got so high that we tried to break into the castle's kitchen in the middle of the night.” Sebastian chortled through a deep cough.
“Who’s we?”
He shuffled on the bench and outstretched the joint towards me. “Sawyer,” he said under his breath.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered, nodding apologetically.
“You have nothing to be sorry for. You can’t break something that was already in need of repair.”
“That’s some high bullshit if I’ve ever heard it,” I quipped, and he let out a hearty laugh.
My mind instantly whizzed elsewhere, and I asked, “If you could put your jewel anywhere on your body, where would you put it?”
“I know where I’d put yours.” His eyes dipped to my nipples and then someplace lower for my third jewel.
I tucked the damp end of the leaf between the tight seal of my lips. As I drew in a breath, an ethereal sense of calm flooded my cells, and for the first time in forever, I wasn’t worried about a single thing.
I ruined my boyfriend's relationship with his best friend? Oh well. Beaumont who? Never heard of him. Sawyer was in love with me? Big whoop. Samara was super hot and Sebastian used to sleep with her? Who cared? I still sucked at wielding the stars? Whatever.
“I should do this more often,” I chimed through an overstated smile while practically throwing the joint back at him. “I feel fucking great.”
He chuckled and ashed the leaf against his thigh. “No. It’s not good for you. Once and a while sure, but do it too often and—”
“And what? I become even funnier than I already am?” I giggled, swinging my feet off the edge of the bench like a child on a swing.
He chortled. “No. If you do it too often—”
“I’ll enjoy life a little bit more and be carefree?”
Through a cloud of smoke, he shot me a disapproving look. “Maeve—”
My feet felt delicate and weightless on the ground as I stood upon them, pulling in fresh air before expelling my every dramatized thought.
“If I do this more often, then I won’t care that a bunch more people are going to die because of me.
And I won’t care that I broke my best friend's heart, or that my mother is dead.” My brain somehow thought now was an appropriate time to toss a laugh into the mix.
Sebastian’s eyes bulged near impossibly as he watched me, silent.
“It won’t matter that I have thought about dying more times than I can count on one hand. It won’t bother me as much that I hurt you and ruined your friendship with Sawyer. I won’t care that my miraculously alive father and I have hardly sparked a relationship.”
Another unwarranted giggle spilled from my sticky lips.
Sebastian sucked his lips between his teeth.