Keeper of Stars (Fae of Legends & Lore #3)

Chapter 1

CHAPTER ONE

My uncle Arnel carried me toward his home’s stairwell. His grip was like iron. Unyielding. Terrifically strong. And unbreakable.

Dizziness made my head spin. He’d smashed a vase into the side of my temple only seconds ago, and the hot feel of sticky blood trickled down my cheek.

Struggling, I tried to fight again. Tried to break free. But his grip was like talons, piercing and sharp, and my head throbbed.

“Why are you doing this?” I rasped.

He smirked. “Because it’s time. I’m due what’s mine.”

I tried to mistphase again. To disappear. Vanish. Escape.

But my magic was still gone. Tylen had nulled it completely.

Above us, the fairy lights in my uncle’s home burned brightly, illuminating every harsh line around his mouth.

My head spun more as he began to climb the stairs. I kicked, but dizziness made my attempts disjointed. I didn’t even connect. “Whatever you’re going to do, please don’t. Please stop.” I panted.

“Why should I?” His lips peeled back. “You may not know this, Niece, since you just joined the family, but the king was born only minutes before me.” He climbed another step, and my foot brushed against the wall, but I couldn’t get leverage to use that to my advantage.

“Even though we’re twins, the crown could only pass to one of us, and since he was born minutes before me, he gets to wear it.

But tell me something. Is that fair? Is it right that birth order determines the next in line for the Mistvale throne? ”

Hatred and envy burned in his expression, glowing as brightly as a star.

I shrank away from him and struggled anew. “So you’re taking . . . your anger out on me?” I asked between pants as I continued to struggle. “I’m the one . . . to bear the brunt . . . of your jealousy?”

He laughed, the sound brittle, just as we reached the top of the stairs.

“Believe it or not, what I’m doing now has little to do with you and is entirely to do with your magic.

When you were younger, I strove to do what my brother was too weak to enact.

You were a scourge to our society, dangerous and spoiled.

He was too weak to do what was right, but then you died, or so they said, and your immense magic was gone.

” He strode down the hall of the second floor, and I looked every which way for a servant or someone to help me, but my vision was fuzzy, and I couldn’t properly focus.

“Help!” I screamed and kicked again.

My uncle tightened his grip on me and hissed, “Stop that. It hurts my ears.” An object flew from a hallway table and smashed into my head in the same spot as before.

Pain exploded in my temple.

I sagged in his arms, my vision darkening, but I fought to stay conscious. Stay awake.

A tunnel appeared in my vision, but with effort, it cleared.

But that only gave my uncle more time to carry me toward wherever he planned to take me.

We were still on the second floor, in the same hallway, and he strode toward one of the rooms.

“Do you know what happened six months ago?” he said out of the blue.

Nausea rolled through me, and I felt as though I would be sick, but he continued unperturbed.

“A bit over six months ago, I saw a young female in the palace, visiting an inventor, and she looked so much like the queen, uncannily so, and it got me thinking . . .”

I swallowed my nausea down, and my stomach twisted into knots.

It hit me how my uncle had found me before anyone knew I was the princess.

He’d seen me the day I’d gone to the palace, filled with joy since I’d just been offered my dream position at the Whiteolf Academic Library, and even though my aunt and uncle had always warned me not to bother Timith while he was working, I’d been so overcome with excitement that I’d broken their rule.

Yet, why they’d created that rule became obvious with startling clarity. They knew I looked like the queen. They knew that someone might see me and begin to wonder about my parentage.

And their fear hadn’t been for naught, because that was exactly what’d happened.

I opened my mouth, trying to control my terror, but my words were slurred, and my senses were dulled. “You saw me . . . that day and . . . realized I’d never died at all.”

His smirk strengthened. “Exactly, and that’s when I found out who you supposedly were, some unknown female living in the Coswell District.

But that’s not who you were at all, was it, Primelle?

” He carried on. “I’ve wanted to share this with you for so long.

To see how you would take the news that I knew who you truly were even though the rest of the realm only knew you as Primelle Hollaran.

” His lips lifted in a terrifying smile.

“After that day, I had you followed, along with Gwenery and Timith. Once I was certain you were the third princess, I sent Verin, a devout God of Night follower, to work in their home since I knew I could never plant a servant in your apartment.” He ambled toward a door at the end of the hall, no longer seeming in a hurry since I’d grown so docile and useless from the blows to my temple.

“You see, Primelle, I’m not only a follower of the God of Night, but I’m also our followers’ leader and have been for many full seasons, unbeknownst to our family, and I realized with my god’s help that I may be able to use your power and that death may not be what’s best for you and the realm. ”

The walls spun around me, everything growing blurry. But I was still coherent enough to realize I’d been right. All of the fae who’d been turned into vamfeers were God of Night followers.

“You all meet . . . every month,” I slurred, the key detail the Imperial Council had uncovered finally falling into place.

“Indeed. We’ve been meeting in secret for the past two centuries, and my god finally answered my call last summer, allowing me to create my potions.”

“How many . . . are you?”

“Thousands, Niece. We are thousands strong, and every single one of my faithful parishioners is willing to be changed into a vamfeer for their god. For me.”

“They’ll know . . . it’s . . . s’you,” I slurred.

“My mother and father will know . . . you’re behind it when I don’t return.

” But I didn’t know how long it would take before they would begin looking for me.

Arnel was the king’s trusted brother. None of us had ever suspected that it could be my father’s twin behind everything.

Arnel laughed again, the sound condescending.

“No, they won’t, because I’ve already sent a dillemsill, in your name, asking for permission to stay here for the night.

They know you’re behind my wards, which are as strong as theirs, and since I’m your beloved uncle and the king’s dear brother, and you have an Imperial Warrior with you, they’ll feel you’re perfectly safe.

I’m positive they’ll grant you permission to stay. ”

A foggy memory stirred. I was supposed to connect with Kole again mentally this afternoon using my magic. And if I didn’t . . .

My eyes widened, and I winced when my head pounded more, but it didn’t stop me from warning my uncle what would ensue if he continued. “They’ll know, Arnel! I was supposed to . . . contact Kole . . . this afternoon. If I don’t, he’ll know something’s wrong.”

But Arnel just scoffed. “No matter. That’s fixable.”

Fixable? My heartbeat ticked up, and I tried to clear my head and fight again. But my movements were sluggish, my kicks laughably weak. “What you . . . do to . . . Royden?” My breath sucked in. “Is he . . . dead?”

My uncle scoffed. “Of course Royden’s not dead.

If your Imperial Warrior died, I would have many questions to answer.

And I wasn’t lying when I said he was inside.

He’s currently unconscious in the dungeon.

Tylen nulled his magic too, and with the help of one of my potions that your warrior breathed in rendering him weak and sluggish, along with my six followers all fighting to restrain him, we eventually bested him. ”

Shock rendered me mute. Arnel had thought of everything already, and the depth of my uncle’s craziness hit me.

He’d initially tried to murder me when I’d been born, but when he’d learned that I’d survived and had returned to Whiteolf, he used one of his newly created potions to try to make me a vampire. When that potion had instead been ingested by Timith, he then sent his vamfeers to hunt me down.

But hunt me down for what?

“Why do you . . . want me?”

He laughed. “You’ll see.”

He didn’t elaborate beyond that, and some of the fogginess in my mind cleared. “Did you . . . place that mental block in . . . Verin’s mind?”

“Of course.”

“Why would she let . . . you do that?”

“Because she was devout. They all are.”

We reached the end of the hall, and he turned toward a closed door. My eyes widened, and even though my head pounded, I struggled again, kicking and attempting to bite him.

He tsked. “None of that, Primelle.” He pinned me to him completely, his grip so hard I could barely move. Barely breathe.

But I struggled anew as nausea washed through me. Everything was spinning. The entire realm was a whirling cyclone, but if I went through that door . . .

“S’you . . . know . . . Verin’s dead?” I fought more, hoping to stall him, but he opened the door and crossed the threshold to a bedroom chambers as though my attempts were nothing.

“She is?” His footsteps didn’t slow. They didn’t even falter. “Last I heard, she’d been taken to the supernatural prison on the Nolus continent, but if she’s dead now”—he shrugged—“that’s one less loose end I’ll need to tie up.”

His words hit me like a ton of bricks. I stilled in his arms, and coldness swept through me. He spoke so casually of using and then discarding the servant who had worked in Gwen and Timith’s home.

But Verin’s warning hit me just as fast. “You’re all pawns in the game of night. I am merely a servant, but my liege will get to her eventually. Now that we know for certain who she is.” She truly was a devout God of Night follower, and her liege had been my uncle.

I was going to vomit.

I struggled anew, but my uncle stopped at the bed and tossed me into the air to land on the mattress. But before I could land, a whip of magic encased me.

A rope, which my uncle called with his telekinetic magic, spun around me, moving impossibly fast. Before I could comprehend what was happening, the rope cinched tight, locking my limbs to my body.

By the time I hit the mattress, my limbs were entirely bound.

My uncle laughed. “That’s better.” He dusted his hands off. “And since you already are aware of vampires and vamfeers, I can see you’ve been busy. Tell me, did you find my book interesting?”

I stared up at him, seeing three heads since my vision was like a kaleidoscope. But I understood enough to know he was referring to the book in Elvish that I’d been translating in his library. A homemade book, recently crafted by him, of what he’d done and planned to do.

“You’re insane.”

Three sets of shoulders shrugged. “Not everyone agrees with you.” He sat on the edge of the bed.

“Now, you need to sit tight while I get my potion. I’ve perfected the recipe, which means you’ll be a vampire by evening, and then you’ll be able to blend in with the masses, walk in the daylight, and effectively hide what you’ve become.

” His multiple mouths downturned. “The Goddess of Light is my god’s nemesis, but her alterations to his vamfeers have come in useful, and my god understands that. ”

I struggled against the ropes, but the room was spinning, spinning, spinning.

My uncle’s face grew fuzzy, but he stood again, and his deep chuckle reverberated through me. “Stay put. Once I’m back and you’re turned, the best part of all happens. As the potion creator, I’ll be your vampire Maker, Niece, which means you’ll always respond to me.”