Chapter 9
Altair
When Altair found himself summoned to Rigil’s side again, it didn’t surprise him.
It wouldn’t be the first time he’d been called upon since the stars had returned, and it wouldn’t be the last. So he made haste for the throne room, which was where Rigil liked to hold his own twisted form of court, sitting high and mighty upon Uther’s garish golden throne.
While he could teleport himself there, Altair found he preferred walking the halls and giving himself that extra precious minute to himself.
It had been too long with no word on the Aztia. Was Iyana still alive? Gods, Altair hoped she was out there somewhere plotting against him. He’d welcome her animosity at this point, if only to know she was still among the living.
No matter how many times he’d met with Rigil to discuss various dealings of the stars, he’d never actually met in front of the entire council. So it was a surprise to walk into the throne room to find all four heads of houses on the dais waiting for him.
Talitha, head of Constellation Ursa, stood furthest to Altair’s left.
Her spine was straight, her chin lifted in defiance.
Her dark blonde hair was cut short around her ears, and her piercing violet-colored eyes stared him down as he entered the room.
She was someone Altair had always admired.
There were songs written about her bravery in battle, and there were rumors she had been the cause of her father’s death.
They said her father, Polaris, once ruled over Constellation Ursa with an iron fist. But when he became hungry for more power and sought to overthrow Rigil, to bring Ursa on top of Centaurus, Talitha caught wind of his plan and ended him before he could bring such shame upon their family.
Although she had brothers, Rigil had commanded her to take her father’s place on the council as an award for her undying loyalty.
Next to her stood Antares, head of Constellation Scorpius.
His dark hair was tied at the nape of his neck.
Deep brown eyes observed Altair shrewdly.
Altair knew he would need to be extremely cautious around Antares, as his power laid within the realm of perception.
Lying in front of him was nearly impossible to do as he was able to identify the falsehood almost immediately.
Many had been convicted of crimes within mere minutes if Antares was present in the courtroom.
To Altair’s right was Eltanin, head of Constellation Draco.
He was one of the largest stars Altair had ever seen.
His height and bulk made him stand out in any room as he towered over everyone else.
The youngest of three brothers, he had not been predicted to obtain the position on the council for Draco.
But he’d challenged his older brothers for the position and bested them both.
Altair felt the pressure placed upon him increase as Eltanin crossed his arms and furrowed his brow.
And, squarely in the middle, seated upon Uther’s golden throne, was Rigil—Alpha Centauri.
Shadows writhed around his feet, snaking their way up his legs and towards his fingers.
He sat stock-straight, one pale hand idly playing with the shadows.
His lightly golden eyes were vacant until Altair cleared his throat and bowed with a fist over his heart.
“You called for me, my lord?”
“Yes, there you are,” Rigil said. He glanced towards the other three council members. “I trust you all remember my general, Altair.” There were murmurs of agreement. Altair bowed his head in respect.
“What can I aid you with today, Alpha Centauri?” Altair asked.
He stood at attention with his back straight and hands clasped behind him.
He’d been the general of the armies for close to a century before they’d all been banished to the sky.
Honestly, Altair was shocked when Rigil wanted him to continue on in his position.
If he’d done his job correctly before, then they would have dealt with the original Aztia and wouldn’t have been trapped orbiting the world for a thousand years.
“We’ve successfully infiltrated most of Athusia now, and many of us have adjusted to being back on the earth with our full power restored,” Rigil said, raising a hand sheathed in shadows, a display of his great power.
He looked lovingly at his shadows before he continued.
“It is time for us to announce our presence. I fear we waited too long after falling to do so, as the humans were terrified—”
“Rightly so,” Talitha interjected.
“Indeed,” Rigil drawled. “But now they go about their daily lives as if everything were normal. It is time to make some examples. A show of force, if you will.”
“Examples, my lord?” Altair asked.
“The new era of the stars has arrived,” said Antares. His deep voice rumbled with a quiet strength. “We know the mistakes that were made previously and have done everything in our power to rectify them.”
“It is time for us to again rise as gods,” Rigil said. “We have been sequestered to the night sky for so long now that the humans have forgotten us. They’ve forgotten who we are and what we are capable of. So we need to remind them.”
“What would you like me to do, my lord?”
“I thought you said this one wasn’t daft,” Eltanin said, his arms still crossed tightly against his chest. His tunic strained at the seams to contain his musculature.
Rigil glared at Altair, shadows swirling through his golden gaze. “He isn’t. It seems some have forgotten their place whilst we were banished.”
“Apologies, Alpha Centauri,” Altair said, bowing low again. “I simply would prefer clear instructions so that I may carry out your orders as precisely as possible.”
Eltanin grunted. Altair forced himself to grit his teeth instead of responding to the disrespect with something he would regret later.
“You are forgiven,” Rigil said. He began idly threading his shadows between his fingers.
“You are to round up some humans for us. We will begin with pleasure, so please find appealing ones, yes? Athusia is well-built, other than that ghastly outer ring, and while we will eventually need humans for manual labor, many of us have missed more carnal desires during our banishment.”
“I understand, my lord.”
“Of course you do,” Talitha said. “You wasted no time in winning that girl over so you could fuck her. I hope she was at least a decent lay. A little too small for my liking, though.”
Altair gripped his hands behind his back while keeping his face carefully devoid of emotion. He couldn’t have Antares catching on that Iyana was anything more to him. “I enjoy being able to throw around my women a bit, my lady.”
Talitha snorted. “Typical male response.”
Before Altair could respond, Rigil cut in.
“Take Hadar with you, Altair. I don’t believe you’ll need many troops for this, but please discuss with him.
Hadar.” The Beta Centauri stepped around the throne.
Altair hadn’t even noticed him before. His squat, bulky form was easily hidden by the gigantic, hideous throne.
“My lord,” Hadar drawled.
“Please see that Altair has everything he needs. I want to see results by tomorrow.”
“Of course, my lord.”
“You are both dismissed.” Rigil turned away from them and said something to Antares that was too low for Altair to hear.
Hadar stepped off the dais, his long white hair tied up in a bun on top of his head.
He was significantly shorter than Altair, but more than made up for it with his bulk.
His nose was crooked from being broken, which he deliberately decided not to fix.
According to him, it made him appear more ‘menacing.’ By rule, stars were attractive beings, but Hadar’s ugly fucking face was only made worse when he sneered at Altair.
They made their way out of the throne room, the council members still murmuring to each other.
Once they were out in the hallway, Hadar opened his mouth. “Don’t fuck this up like you did with the Aztia, Altair.” He snickered. “That’s twice now an Aztia has eluded you. You think you’d learn after the first one.”
Altair had reached his limit. He could only be talked down to and hear Iyana’s name being smeared for so long before he would break. He grabbed Hadar’s arm and jerked him to a halt.
“Listen here, you little cretin,” he growled.
“I don’t know how long you spent on your knees in front of Rigil to earn the spot of Beta Centauri, but frankly, I don’t give a single fuck.
If you continue to disrespect me, I will punch your fucking face in.
Maybe it’ll fix your nose and make you actually presentable, like the rest of us. ”
Hadar’s gaze narrowed. “Stay out of my fucking way, Altair, or I will suggest to Rigil that we replace you as general.”
Altair rolled his eyes. “As if he takes anything you say seriously.”
“Watch it,” Hadar snapped. “You have no idea how much sway I actually have. Just for this, you don’t get any help with rounding up the humans. You can do it all yourself. Good luck gathering as many as they want by tomorrow. Nobody will cry at your funeral.”
“Fuck you, and fuck your help, Hadar. I don’t need it.” Altair walked away from the shorter star, flipping him off over his shoulder. He could almost feel Hadar seething behind him. It brought him the most joy he’d felt since the last time he was buried deep within Iyana.
Now he needed to round up enough humans to keep the council from becoming suspicious.
Altair almost halted in his tracks. A thousand years ago, he wouldn’t have thought twice about orders from his superiors.
But since Iyana came into his life, he’d started to feel differently about, well—everything.
Before, being good at his job was always his top priority. Gaining praise from Rigil was its own special high.
But now, maybe the stars were wrong. Maybe they could try to live with the humans in peace, like how it was before the gods went to sleep.
Instead of acting as gods themselves, the stars should be aiding the much weaker species—not using them as playthings; not seeing them as little more than oxen pulling a plow, or a hole to be filled.
Altair cursed Iyana for changing the way he saw the world.
His only wish now was for her to be safe, and he greatly regretted his actions that had led them to this point.
He should have followed his instincts—grabbed her and ran off somewhere remote while they’d had the chance.
It was too late to change the past. So he’d have to do what he could to help her.
Altair wished again for the millionth time that he could know whether she lived.
Maybe it was time to put his trust in someone else. Hopefully his cousin Scuti could find the information he was seeking—and hopefully, he wouldn’t betray Altair to the council.