THIRTY-FIVE
The astrolatory in Damalis is smaller than the others I’ve seen in Antares.
It’s little more than a chapel held together by rough wooden beams and stone.
The roof’s glass panes are uneven, warped with tiny bubbles that distort the sky overhead.
Rows of simple wooden benches face the altar at its center.
Bishop’s lips twitch. “Benches?”
“People still come here,” I say softly, speaking in the low voice my parents taught me to use in the sacred space when I was a child. “To seek guidance. Or when they want to ask the Stars’ favor.”
A young mother, her baby nestled in a sling, rises from one of the benches, nodding to us as she exits.
“I suppose I can’t blame them,” I admit. “Sometimes I still want to believe they’re listening.”
A lump forms in my throat at the confession. Right now, I need to believe they’re listening, too. The last time I was here, the astrolatory was full. My family, along with most of the village, coming to share their final words with my father. Kieren was at my side. He carried my lantern then.
Tonight, I’m carrying his. A tear slips down my cheek as the unfairness hits me again.
I didn’t think I would be doing this alone.
Because Kieren was good and true, and he deserved more than the Stars ever gave him.
“I’m with you,” Bishop murmurs.
I swallow, guilt mixing with grief that I expected more. Some part of me hoped Broderic would come despite everything. Or Isidore would get over her shock from this afternoon and defy him. That Andry would get his chance to say farewell.
Because they should be here. I’m not sure I’ll ever forgive Broderic for this.
Bishop places a palm on the small of my back, nodding to the glass above us where night is slowly bruising the sky. “It’s dusk.”
We move to the altar. It’s splattered with wax from all the Evensongs that came before. Someone has left a box of matches as if they knew I would forget to bring my own. Something about that makes me feel less lonely. I set the lantern on the stone and pick up a match.
“Do you want help?” he asks as I fumble to light one.
“Yes,” I say, dropping another match as soon as it strikes.
But Bishop extends his free hand, keeping the other firmly on me like he knows I need the anchor. The lines marking his skin begin to glow, and he lowers a finger to the candle inside the lantern. A small flame blossoms as the wick catches quickly, and a soft glow spills through the glass.
I stare at the light that will guide Kieren’s soul back to the Stars, more tears smarting my eyes.
“I’ll give you a moment.” His hand lingers just a bit longer before he slips outside. He won’t go far, especially since I refused to carry a sword into the sacred place. But he seems to understand that I need to do this alone.
I can’t look away from the flame, warm as it lights up the space like Kieren’s laugh.
Maybe this is how it was meant to be.
Just Kieren and me. Like it always was.
“I’m here.” My voice echoes faintly in the empty room. I suck down a shaky breath. With everything that happened, I never quite figured out what to say. Truthfully, part of me would rather face the wolf again than do this.
But that’s not what his soul needs to make the passage.
“I’m safe.” That’s what he needs to hear. But saying it feels like writing a letter I know he’ll never read.
“I thought you should know.” I laugh weakly, wondering why it’s different than the other times. “You were always there when we did this.” I never had to face it alone.
He was always there. For every heartbreak. For every adventure.
I just want to share one more moment with him. So, I start there. “You’ll never believe what happened today.”
My fingers tighten on the edge of the altar. “I saw a horned wolf in the Cinderwald today. They’re so much bigger than we thought.”
I can almost hear his excitement.
“This one came up to my chest. It was so tall.”
Almost see his eyes lighting up.
“Remember when we tried to sneak into the forest when we were kids?” Another dare. “You swore you heard something howl, and we ran all the way back to the barn.” The tightness in my chest loosens a bit as I laugh. “I’ve never run so fast in my life. I didn’t run today.”
There are so many stories I’ll never get to tell him now.
So many adventures we’ll never get to have.
“I wish we’d gone together,” I whisper. It hurts to admit it, because even though I know it’s true, something else is, too. “I’m glad I’m still here.”
A sob wrenches through me. “I’m glad I’m alive.” The tears begin to fall harder. “I just wish you were here, too.”
But I know it’s time to let his soul be at peace. I can’t keep him here forever. “Bishop came with me. He was there in the forest today.” I swipe at the tears. “I’m not alone anymore.”
The candle gutters a little, and a small smile slips past the sadness. “You would have liked him. Even if he was an asshole when you met.”
I can see the two of them, bickering over something ridiculous. Like what kind of wine I prefer. But Kieren would have liked the way Bishop makes me feel.
Because that’s all you want for your family. Not just for them to be safe. Or content. You want them to find the person who makes them complete. The person who sets their soul on fire. The one who doesn’t quite make sense, but who divides their life into before and after.
Kieren was my before.
“Thank you,” I whisper. “For always being there. For seeing me.”
The weight I’ve carried since that terrible night begins to lift.
“Thank you for being my brother.” I swallow as I reach for the lantern. “Keep an eye on me, though, okay? You know I can’t seem to stay out of trouble.”
I leave the Evensong at the altar and carry his light with me.
The Stars burn overhead as I step outside.
Bishop is waiting by the door. He doesn’t say anything.
He just takes the lantern in one hand and mine in his other.
The silence doesn’t feel heavy as we walk back to the cottage.
It wraps around me like the cool night air, soothing. Peaceful.
A few conscripts pause to bow their heads as we pass, and when we reach the small clearing beside the cottage, I take the lantern again and place it on the ground, so the flame can light Kieren’s way back to the Stars. By morning, it will be gone, and his soul will be with them.
I thought I couldn’t leave it—couldn’t bear to turn away from that light. But now I know there’s a life waiting for me in the morning.
Because Bishop is my after.
But when I turn, Bishop isn’t looking at me. He’s staring up at the sky, starlight shimmering in his eyes.
“Thank you for letting me come with you,” he murmurs. “I’ve buried enough bodies, but I’ve never given an Evensong.”
My breath catches in my throat.
“I didn’t mourn my family,” he confesses. “Maybe that’s why my soul will never be at peace.” His gaze lowers to mine. “I think it’s time that I tell you how I died.”
I drop onto the sofa next to him, folding my legs under me. Trying to make myself small enough that I don’t spook him now that he’s finally opening up. With the queen’s summons hanging over my head, who knows when we’ll have another chance?
“My older brother was charismatic. A true politician. More so than even my parents were. But that charm came with ambition. When King Ophelian suggested Cassiel survey the Lost Continent …” Bishop breaks off, shaking his head.
His brother’s name. Cassiel. I tuck the information away, adding it to the pieces of Bishop I’m picking up here and there.
“King Ophelian favored expansion?” The king hadn’t seemed that serious for the few minutes I met him.
“You’re surprised.” But he nods.
“He didn’t strike me as very forward-thinking,” I admit. “He had plenty of people to think for him. And his sister?”
“That remains to be seen. She’s young.”
I can’t help but laugh. “So are we.”
He lifts my hand and kisses my wrist, where my pulse jumps. “I lived a lifetime in pain before meeting you.”
My cheeks heat. I’m unsure how to respond. Unable to cross some invisible line.
He looks away but keeps holding my hand.
“Since the Last War, patrons were meant to balance the throne. Five families, five magics, all of us bound to the crown and one another. It was supposed to be a system where no bloodline could take too much. But now … now there are plenty who would take the throne if given the chance.”
Bishop draws a deep breath. “So while Cassiel was away, my father sent me a letter, concerned about the connections he’d formed overseas. But when my brother returned from the continent … I was in Isoldoro. I didn’t want to go back home yet. Didn’t want to deal with it.”
I snort with understanding, not amusement. “But you went.”
Because that’s what people like us do.
“I delayed a few days. I just didn’t want to …
” He trails away before he continues. “I was too late. When I reached Miradores—only Lenora was spared. She’d gone to visit her cousin for the day in Ardermare.
Everyone else … the other staff … my father …
mother …” His voice breaks, and I squeeze his hand.
Looking at him, I see it all at last. The weight of what he lost. The way he’s carried on alone ever since. The way he holds himself apart. Always in control.
“And your brother?” I ask, my heart in my throat, but I don’t look away. He needs to know I’m here with him as he faces this.
Bishop turns from me, his eyes shining in the firelight.
“I could have saved him. If I’d been faster.
If I hadn’t stumbled through the house checking corpses for pulses I knew weren’t there while my brother fought for his life.
By the time I heard him. Realized what was happening …
” He shakes his head like he doesn’t want to remember.
“I got to the balcony as the killer plunged a sword into Cassiel.
My brother was looking right at me when he went over the railing.