Chapter 2
Altair
The Dancing Cat was as busy as the first time Altair had been there, only now there were multiple stars milling around along with the humans.
How the humans did not realize there were predators among them was beyond him.
The stars all possessed an other-worldly beauty, and not all of them were using a glamor to tamp down their glow.
He was sure the mortals blamed it on a trick of the light.
They had been in the sky for too long. Most humans were blissfully unaware that the stars hanging above their heads every night were immortal beings who could kill them with only a thought.
But now the sky was empty—the moon the only light within the darkness—and the wolves prowled among the sheep.
There had been talk, of course, of all the stars falling.
Altair had heard multiple different theories, and none of them were even remotely close to being true.
There were people crying in the streets that the end of days had come—the gods were angry with them and were bringing about the apocalypse.
Multiple families had packed their belongings and left Athusia in the middle of the night, as if there was a different night sky somewhere else on this earth.
After a few days had passed and nothing seemed to change, everyone appeared to have gotten on with their lives.
Even if the world was ending, rent and taxes still needed to be paid.
Creditors wouldn’t accept this as an excuse, and most people were smart enough to continue their work.
The talk and gossip had slowly returned to who was cheating on their spouses, merchants that were selling faulty goods, and bothersome neighbors. All in all, everything was as it should be.
It was during times like this, when Altair was surrounded by people who didn’t realize who or what he was, that his thoughts returned to Iyana.
His astalle. Was she alive? Would he know if his starheart had been ripped from the world?
Altair had heard stories of stars who had lost their astalle.
They tended to either go mad and seek any form of revenge possible, or they would quickly end their own life to be with their star-bound mate.
Images of Iyana laying lifeless in Sullane’s arms terrorized him, keeping him awake at night. When sleep did finally find him, memories of his last words to her circled through his mind. They nipped and bit at him until he woke in a cold sweat.
You really thought I’d fall in love with a human? I’d rather die than stoop so low.
But he had. Iyana had called him down from the sky and he’d fallen for her fast and hard. Now she was the only thing Altair could think about.
He tipped his head back, slinging down the rest of his bourbon, and motioned to the barkeep for another. This would be his fourth drink, and he wasn’t anywhere close to drunk. Altair only wanted to numb the pain, and his fucking star metabolism wouldn’t even allow him to do that.
Altair realized he deserved to be miserable.
He had brought this upon himself. While he would love to throw the blame onto Rigil, Sullane, or even Iyana, he knew everything could have been dealt with differently.
In a different world, he had told Iyana all of his secrets—what he had actually been sent to Arinem to achieve—and maybe she would still love him.
Maybe she would have let him whisk her away to somewhere remote, where there were no Kanalizas, emperors, or shifters.
Yes, the stars would have continued to be relentless in his head, but it was a burden he easily could have shouldered if it had meant keeping her safe; if it had meant he wasn’t currently sitting in a tavern trying to forget about her expressive brown eyes, her stubbornness, her stupidly cute bare feet.
But instead of doing any number of things to keep her safe, healthy, and alive, Altair had followed his orders like the good little soldier he’d always been.
He had never been bitter about that in the past; in fact, his loyalty to his Alpha Centauri was a point of pride.
Rigil relied on Altair and entrusted him with the problematic missions.
This shouldn’t have even been hard for him—gain the trust of a human woman who didn’t know any better, train her to reach her full potential, then steal her magic.
He had never thought that he would have been so quickly and easily ensnared by a mortal woman.
If anyone had told him this was to be his fate, he would have laughed at them.
But, Altair couldn’t count how many times he’d thought of her face within the past few days.
He wondered if she had made it out of the Dead Lands, or if his act of stealing all of her magic had been fatal.
His only regret was being unable to kill Sullane.
If Altair ever saw him again, he vowed to finish the job properly this time.
He felt a presence before he saw the source; a collective hush overcame the tavern.
A female star strode into the crowded space and spotted him instantly.
Altair sighed. He’d finally been found. She was tall and lean, with long blonde hair the same shade as his, and eyes that were more amber than golden.
While she was currently wearing a plain tunic and pants, Altair knew she was more comfortable in fighting leathers.
Ignoring the other patrons, she headed straight towards him, leaning against the bar counter next to him.
He refused to look at her, instead continuing to drink his bourbon.
“Tarazed,” he said.
“Phaedros take you, Altair. I’ve been searching for you for days and that’s all you have to say to me?”
He shrugged.
“Where have you been, anyway?”
“Here.”
“In the tavern?” Tarazed’s nose scrunched with distaste. “Well, that explains why you look like shit and”—she leaned in to sniff him, then reared back—“why you smell as if you’ve bathed in beer and sweat.”
Altair sighed again, lamenting the lack of alcohol in his glass. He still wouldn’t look at her. “What do you want, Tara?”
Her face softened to an expression of pity Altair couldn’t bear. “I was searching for you, little brother. You’ve had me and Okab worried.”
“You found me. You can tell Okab I’m fine.”
“I think we both know you’re not fine, Altair.”
Tara was almost a century older than Altair and his twin, Okab.
It made her extremely protective of both of them, even though it was apparent at an early age that Altair was capable of watching out for himself.
Okab was always the smallest, and he was teased more by the other young stars.
Tara and Altair both beat up multiple bullies until they finally received the message not to fuck with Aquila constellation.
They helped train their brother outside of their lessons, and he studied with a tenacity worthy of their family.
These days, although Okab was still smaller in stature and mostly unassuming, Altair didn’t know who would win in a fight should they go against each other.
But just because Okab needed more attention didn’t mean Tara stopped being Altair’s older sister as well.
She still made sure he was doing well—not getting lost in his work—and she took him out to have some fun so he could ‘stop being so uptight all the time.’ In the past, he’d thought her overbearing and obnoxious, but at least he knew her heart was in the right place.
Now, though, Altair simply wished she’d leave him alone.
“Altair…” She sighed, finally sitting on the stool next to him and flagging down the barkeep to order some wine. As she drank the red liquid, she groaned. “Gods, that’s delicious. A thousand years without wine was a tragedy.”
They sat in silence for several minutes, both of them nursing their drinks.
Altair was content to sit in the quiet, soaking in the strength and peace his sister’s presence brought him.
But he’d never admit to her she provided that comfort, and he still wanted to punch her when she finally opened her mouth again.
“Do you want to talk about it?” Tara asked softly.
“Not particularly.”
“Tough. You’re still going to tell me what happened.”
“Then why did you even ask?” he muttered under his breath, which earned him a smack on the shoulder. It didn’t hurt, but Altair rubbed the area anyway and scowled at his sister.
“You accomplished what you were meant to when you were chosen to fall, and we are all extremely grateful. So what is with the dour mood?”
Altair finished his drink and signaled for another one.
“Maybe you’ve had enough, little brother.”
“I haven’t had enough. That’s part of the problem.
” When the barkeep came to refill his glass, Altair swiped the bottle from his hand.
The man frowned at him, but Altair threw extra coins onto the counter.
The barkeep’s eyes widened at the amount—well more than what a single bottle cost—but he didn’t ask questions, instead swiping the money into his pocket and walking away.
Tara’s amber gaze appraised him with a shrewdness Altair didn’t like in the slightest. “This isn’t about the girl, is it?”
Altair said nothing, taking another pull from the bottle of bourbon.
“Altair, please tell me this isn’t about the girl.”
Altair ran his hands down his face. In all the years they had been planning for their return, this was the last way he thought he’d be feeling once he was victorious.
Godsdamn him, he had fallen in love with the one person he was forbidden from.
He’d actually started to tolerate Talon and Zane, and he was even slightly upset that he had killed Talon instead of Sullane.
No, Altair had thought he’d be lauded with praise, his name chanted in the streets as the stars were returned to their former glory, with the humans in their rightful place beneath them.
He’d imagined himself drinking with his family and friends, Rigil granting him a boon for his success, and all the women he could ever desire.
Except now, there was only one woman he wanted.
And she was either dead or she hated him.
Altair really couldn’t decide which was worse.
“Fuck,” Tara whispered. It was her turn to run her hand down her face, subconsciously mirroring her brother. “Okay, tell me about it.”
For a moment, Altair considered telling her everything—Iyana was his astalle, and he loved her beyond words.
He knew his sister would never judge him or tell a soul other than Okab, but he also knew they were in a public area with other stars milling about.
Any one of them could overhear and bring the information back to Rigil, and if Iyana was still alive, he wanted nothing more than to protect her.
So he glanced at Tara, a pleading look in his eye, begging her to drop the subject.
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
But either she didn’t get the hint, or outright ignored it. Altair would have bet on the latter. “Little brother…”
“I’m not little anymore, and I haven’t been for a long time,” he grumbled.
“You’ll always be little to me.” Tara tried to ruffle his hair, but he blocked her hand before she could touch him.
It almost made him smile. Almost. Then Iyana’s face flitted through his mind, lying in Sullane’s lap, betrayal written all over her expression, and his mood immediately regressed to where it had been the past few days.
“Fine, Altair. Tell me about her. We all saw you win the Aztia over. Obviously we didn’t see everything, otherwise I’d understand what you were going through. Please, talk to me.”
The words were on the tip of his tongue until he spied an unnatural shadow standing across the tavern. To anyone else, it would have appeared like any other dark corner, but Altair knew better.
“It appears our cousin has come to visit,” he told Tara.
She swiveled in her seat to follow his gaze.
Once the other star realized he’d been spotted, his darkness receded, allowing his form to become visible.
A human nearby started at the sudden appearance of another man, and he glanced down at his ale before rubbing his eyes in disbelief.
He was larger than Altair remembered him being, most likely because he was usually shrouded in darkness and shadows—different from Rigil’s shadows, which always felt sinister whenever they were near.
This star’s darkness instead was reminiscent of the night of a new moon, when things were quiet and serene, even though you couldn’t see five feet in front of you.
His maroon hair was so dark it almost appeared black until the light caught it, causing it to glint red.
“Altair,” he said when he reached their side, his voice deep. “Rigil wants to see you.”
“Well, hello to you too, Scuti,” Tara drawled.
Scuti smirked and bowed his head towards her. “Cousin. Always a pleasure.”
“Did Rigil happen to mention why he has summoned me?” Altair asked.
Eerie dark eyes, a color extremely unusual for stars, pinned Altair to his seat. He would do well to remember that Scuti was not one to cross, even if he was typically mild-mannered. He was the preferred spy for the Alpha Centauri for a reason.
“You know Rigil rarely tells me of his reasonings.”
“Of course he doesn’t,” Altair muttered, taking another drink from the bottle. Scuti glanced at it with distaste.
“You also know we should not keep him waiting.”
“Then let us go see what our esteemed leader demands of me now.” Altair finished the rest of the bourbon before clapping Scuti on the shoulder and being transported through the darkness to wherever Rigil awaited him.