Chapter Forty-Six
Pressure, like the weight of a thousand anchors, threatens to crush me flat. My stomach roils, my heart slamming against my rib cage.
“Breathe, Aster.” I feel his presence, hovering somewhere close. Too close. “Breathe for me.”
I gasp. My head spins, my breath coming in ragged gasps. The air here tastes like bitter smoke and burnt flesh. But the scent of roses and damp earth envelops me, warm and familiar and infuriating.
I lurch upright, my head nearly colliding with his. He shifts backward, but I’m too fast, drawing the wicked-looking knife from the sheath at his hip and using my momentum to pin him to the obsidian altar.
I press the blade to his throat, looking down at him—at his green eyes. This isn’t the face of a monster. But it isn’t the face of a boy, either.
“I knew it,” Will murmurs, his grin revealing the dimple in his cheek. He seizes my wrists, flipping me onto my back. His dark, breathy chuckle tickles my ear as he bends down, whispering, “You really don’t give up, do you?”
I clench my teeth, my knee colliding with his stomach. His grip loosens, just enough that I break free of his hold. I lash out, slicing above his brow.
Scarlet spills down his face, staining his teeth as he laughs, his hands on either side of my head, caging me in. “Are you happy to see me, my darling?”
I point the tip of my dagger at his throat. His blood drips onto my cheeks, my lips. He could take control of my hands; he could force me to drop the dagger with only a thought.
But he doesn’t. He just stares down at me, his head tilted, amusement flickering in his gaze.
“Stop looking at me like that!” I hiss.
A crooked grin. “Like what?”
I push forward, my blade piercing his skin before he finally relents, sitting back on his heels. My legs tremble as I get to my feet, but Will remains kneeling, my dagger pointed at his throat.
My pulse throbs at my temples. I take my eyes off him for only a second—long enough to see that we’re alone here, atop the obsidian altar.
“Where is she?” I demand, my head spinning. “Where is Morana?”
The fire seems to leap at my voice, hotter now than when I first arrived in the Burning Lands, so intense it feels as if it might melt the flesh from my bones.
“She’s been gone for days,” Will says, his voice a deep, low rasp. “She plans to hold the people of the Red Island for ransom until the Order relinquishes the Relics.”
My blood turns to ice. I stagger backward, and Will reaches out as if to steady me, but he falls short, dropping to the stone in front of me.
For a moment, it appears as if he bows before me, and when he looks up, his long, dark eyelashes casting shadows over his freckled cheeks, a grim smirk tugs at the corners of his lips.
“What do you mean days?” My heart throbs, my chest painfully tight. “How many?” Sweat slicks my palms, but I tighten my grip on the dagger, point it at his forehead.
There’s a flicker of something in his eyes that looks far too much like regret. “Seven,” he says tightly, his jaw ticking.
I try to fight the panic clawing at my ribs, but it strangles my voice. “Don’t lie to me!” I shout, silent tears streaming down my face. “Don’t you dare lie to me!”
His keen eyes track me with that calculating intelligence I once saw every time he studied a landscape, asking questions he never says aloud.
He takes his time as he stands smoothly, his hands open at his sides.
“I’m telling you the truth,” he says, and there’s a touch of softness in his voice that is wholly Will—not Azeron.
For a moment, we could be back at Bludgrave Manor, meeting for a secret midnight rendezvous.
“Your heart did not beat for seven days.”
The day of my eighteenth birthday had come and gone—the surge of Manan and bloodlust passed, along with any opportunity to use it to my advantage.
My head feels light, my legs turning to water, and when I reel backward, my foot slipping from the stone altar, Will is there—his hand wrapped around my wrist.
Around the band of braided leather. He must have slipped it back onto my arm after Morana left.
Our eyes meet, our chests heaving.
“Are you going to kill me?” I ask.
A teasing smile as he licks the blood from his bottom lip, exposing sharp teeth. “Do you want me to?”
I throw off his grip, and he takes a step back, hands lifted as if in surrender.
“You’ve made yourself rather difficult to kill,” he says, his gaze dipping to my throat. He looks away, shoves his hands into his pockets. “Besides, if for some reason you didn’t stop me, he would.”
He looks right, where the wind stirs as two massive wings beat the air, sending tendrils of smoke whirling.
“Emrys?” I scramble down from the altar and hurl myself at the dragon.
Emrys chuffs, nuzzling against my embrace. Tears prick my eyes as Liv swoops out from around the dragon’s head, pressing her nose to mine. Laughter bubbles up in my chest, easing the pressure building between my ribs.
“You’re going to need this,” Will says from close behind.
I whirl, the dagger raised, ready to put distance between us again, but he lingers a few paces away.
He holds the golden Key in his outstretched palm.
Before a threat can form on my tongue, he tosses it to me.
It hums at my touch, glowing from within.
“I don’t understand,” I say, my eyes narrowing on him as I widen my stance, anticipating an attack that doesn’t come. “I had Shifter venom in my veins when I died. Am I alive because I turned?” The unspoken question lingers in the space between us. Shouldn’t I be bound to you?
He shakes his head, strands of dark hair splaying over his forehead, wet with blood. “You broke the Shifter curse the day Owen raptured you from Havok.”
My voice is low, lethally calm. “Don’t say his name.”
He huffs a laugh. “As you wish,” he murmurs, his eyes dark.
“You will always have Shifter venom in your veins.” He crouches, retrieving a lump of fabric from the charred earth, and I can’t help but wonder if there isn’t a hint of pride in his slow, sinister smile as he holds up the coat, an invitation.
“That power belongs to you and only you.”
I snatch the coat from his grasp. “The venom didn’t bring me back?”
Will casts his eyes skyward, considering. “No,” he says, chuckling softly as he drops his gaze to mine, twinkling with amusement. “I believe it pays to have friends in high places.”
I shrug the coat onto my shoulders, the pattern of the stars shimmering in the firelight. I clench my fist around the gilded Key and adjust my grip on the dagger with the other.
“Why did you stay?”
A muscle in his jaw feathers. He sucks his teeth. “You’d best be going now,” he tells me, looking away. “Before I change my mind.”
I don’t budge. “Why, Azeron?”
His nostrils flare. “Don’t call me that.”
“And what should I call you?” I say, taking a step toward him. “Will? Lord Castor?”
His hand shoots out, preternaturally fast, seizing the dagger from my grasp, his gaze locked on mine, a subtle honey glow rimming the green.
“I healed him,” he says, his voice deep and dark.
“Your precious fiancé no longer bears the mark of my curse.” He sheathes the dagger, taking a deliberate step back.
“I sent word to the Order, warning them of Morana’s plan.
If you leave now, you should meet them at the border of the Dire. ”
My pulse races. “Why?”
Will lifts his shoulder, a shadow passing over his face. “Before I was bound to Morana, I had a different master. He’s the reason I came to Elysia—it was his influence that led Morana to rebel against the True King. Everything I’ve done—every choice I’ve made—I did for his sake.”
“Why? What does he want?”
“Chaos,” he answers. “War. Deception. Betrayal. It doesn’t matter how it comes about, it all feeds his magic—gives him power. Morana only thinks she owns my soul. In truth, he allows her to control me. If I were not here, he would reclaim me to his service.”
Something in my chest twists. Even Will—even Azeron—doesn’t have control over his fate. He’s been controlled, just like he controlled me. Just like Morana controlled Owen.
“And now?” I press, shoving the Key into my pocket, where Liv settles in beside it. “You’re letting me go because of him?”
A wry grin. “Perhaps,” he says, inspecting the stars on my coat. “Or perhaps I’d just like to see what you do next.”
Emrys nudges my elbow. I climb onto the dragon’s back, grabbing hold of his spiked horns.
“So you’re going to let me go?” I say even as Emrys lifts into the air. “Just like that?”
He smirks, his voice fading on the wind as he vanishes in a cyclone of smoke. “As if anything could stop you.”
The setting sun casts a tangerine glow over the Western Sea when I find the Starchaser near the border of the Dire—right where Will said they would be.
It’s Lewis who spots me first. His spyglass clatters to the deck, and even from above, I see his jaw go slack.
Emrys drops low enough that I’m able to jump down into the crow’s nest. I race down the rigging faster than I ever have, but it still feels like too long.
When my feet hit the deck, Lewis is already there. He throws his arms around me as Charlie and Albert burst into tears, piling into the hug. A few feet away, Margaret clings to Gabriel’s arm as if she were about to tip over, and Gabriel presses his fist to his mouth, barricading sobs.
And then I’m surrounded. Mother and Father embrace me, clutching me so tight I think they might never let go.
Henry cries on my shoulder; Annie squeezes me, her bottom lip wobbling.
Lady Isabelle envelops me in a gentle hug.
Killian sniffles, patting me on the back.
Bellaflor kisses me on the cheek. Diana sweeps me into the air.
She drops me at the sound of Titus’s voice.
“Where is she?” he bellows, bursting through the doors of the captain’s quarters, his linen shirt unbuttoned, revealing the wound from Will’s dagger—now a pale shade of purple, the broken, oozing skin closing. Not cursed. Healing. “Where is my wife?”
Eliza races after him, still holding a roll of gauze in her hands. “I wasn’t—” She sees me, and it looks as if she might faint. And then a smile transforms her face. “Wait—wife?”
It’s as if time stands still. No one moves, their eyes wide as Titus lifts me into his arms, crushing me in an embrace.
He presses his lips to mine, gentle—almost hesitant. He draws back as he sets me on my feet, his fists clenched around the fabric of my coat, searching my eyes as tears streak his sun-kissed face.
“A promise is a promise,” I tell him, placing my hand on his chest—just over his heart.
He half-laughs, half-cries, his thumb stroking my cheek. He leans in, lips parting, when Lewis clears his throat.
“And when exactly did the two of you get married?”
Titus and I share a mischievous smile.
“The night I left for Bludgrave Manor,” I say. “Father married us.”
Mother—who prides herself on never being surprised—turns to Father, her arms crossed, mouth gaping, and the smug grin on Father’s face tells me he’s been looking forward to this moment for the entirety of their marriage.
“I was a captain once, you know,” he says with a wink.
Titus reaches into his pocket, retrieving the pearl earrings. With a delicate touch, he fastens them in both of my ears, his hands trembling. “We should have a proper wedding,” he says. “I believe you still owe me another dance, after all.”
The laugh that escapes my lips seems to light in his eyes as he sweeps me into another kiss.
Lewis clears his throat again, and when Titus pulls away, he looks as if he might toss Lewis overboard.
“So the power of the Lightbringer…” my brother starts.
“Morana got only half of Aster’s half,” Mother says, nodding slowly, a glint of pride in her dark blue eyes. “Because of the marriage bond, when Aster sacrificed herself to Morana, Titus held on to the rest.”
I note the way my siblings wince at the mention of Morana—of my sacrifice. Perhaps one day they’ll ask me what happened—what I saw when I crossed from this realm into the next—but for now, they’re quiet. Solemn.
Rook barks a laugh. “Of course! Brilliant!” And then, half to himself, “Why didn’t I think of that?”
Charlie’s brow furrows in confusion. “So… Titus has the power of the Lightbringer?”
Titus takes my hand, looking down at me with reverence and awe. “No.” He shakes his head. “I felt it leave me the moment Aster came back to life.”
And I felt it return—the pressure, the weight of it. The power coursing through my veins.
Will must have seen it, too. He must have known.
I look up at Titus, and as his fingers twine with mine, I think I see it—the shimmer of gold dust, weaving through the air around us, cocooning Titus and me in gilded light.
“Promise you’ll never do that again?” he asks.
My mouth curves, a coy smile. “Do what?”
He brushes my lips with his thumb, tracing the shape of my joy. “Go where I can’t follow.”
I squeeze his hand tighter, pressing my forehead to his. “I promise.”
This time, it’s Father who coughs to get our attention. When we turn toward him, standing over the Elysian Navigator, draped across a barrel, he looks apologetic, his lips twisted in a frown.
Titus never leaves my side as Father pricks my finger, and my blood splatters the parchment. The silver ink glows, forming an image of an iron gate that reminds me, for an instant, of the entrance to the Castors’ estate.
“Maker of All,” Father breathes, looking up at Mother and Killian in turn. “All this time…”
My heart sinks.
There’s no hiding the location of the gates from Morana.
She’s already there.