Chapter 11 In Contract Only #2
“It means that today was as painful as it gets. The Sun was mapping your body, scanning you to learn the strength of your heart and the route of your blood. If you are to pull the sunlight, it’s imperative that the Sun not overwhelm you.”
“I’m fairly certain that’s what happened this morning,” Aurora said, her tone slipping back into contempt.
The Starmaker stopped eating, set his spoon down, and looked at Aurora with such intensity that it made her shift in her seat. “If the Sun had overwhelmed you, you would not be sitting here now.”
Aurora tried not to react to his words, but a shiver crawled down her spine, and the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. “I’m simply telling you how it felt.”
“It will not feel that way again,” the Starmaker said.
“If you had not resorted to giving me the silent treatment—though I must acknowledge your remarkable maturity in moments of conflict—you would have learned that tomorrow will be easier, as will the day after that and the day after that. Make no mistake: it will not be easy, but the pain will lessen with each day you practice until one day, it will feel entirely bearable.”
It took everything in Aurora not to respond to the maturity comment, though she furiously wanted to. “Will it always feel painful?”
The Starmaker leaned back in his chair as if he was truly considering her question. “It will always feel intense. Human bodies are not meant to handle that kind of heat, even heat that carries magic. But it doesn’t feel painful to me anymore; it just feels like work.”
Aurora nodded. She was good at doing work—living in a cottage beyond the reach of the light required a lot of effort to survive.
They always had to keep a fire burning, repairs to windows and doors and the roof had to be made immediately to keep out the Frost, and Aurora’s mirrors were in constant need of cleaning and repositioning.
Aurora was used to work, and if pulling the light began to feel like that for her, as it had for the Starmaker, then she thought she might have a chance of accomplishing what was required of her.
“Work I can do,” Aurora said, and she meant it.
“Good.”
Aurora was about to ask another question when Ina walked into the dining room and handed the Starmaker a stack of papers. “Here are the plans you asked for, Your Radiance,” she said, giving Aurora a small smile.
“Thank you, Ina,” the Starmaker said, and she left the room again.
“Plans?”
“For the wedding,” he said, doing a rather poor job of masking his displeasure.
While marriage had been Aurora’s condition, she wasn’t any happier about it than the Starmaker.
But she knew how badly her family needed the glare line, and she was relieved that they would finally receive it.
She hoped with everything inside of her that it would make their life in the dark just a little bit easier.
“Ah, yes. That. As you are the Starmaker, I assume you can get someone here quite easily to perform the ceremony.” Aurora kept all hesitation from her voice, wanting the Starmaker to know she was fully committed to getting her family the line they needed.
“No,” the Starmaker said, looking over the papers. “That will not do.”
Aurora tried not to show the anger that roared back to life inside her. “If you’re having trouble recalling, marriage was part of our agreement.”
“My memory is quite well.”
“Then are you suggesting that His Radiance, the great Starmaker, is not a man of his word?” Aurora’s tone dripped with derision, but the Starmaker only looked bored.
“I am a man of my word, and I intend to marry you. But doing so here, just the two of us, will not do.”
Understanding slammed into Aurora all at once, and her heart began to race. “Absolutely not. I refuse.”
The Starmaker watched her from across the table, his eyes sparking to life with mischief, as if he took genuine pleasure in her outrage. “You want your family to get their glare line, and I refuse to marry in secret.”
“It wouldn’t be in secret,” Aurora said, fumbling her words. “It would simply be private. Between the two of us.”
“And what if I want to show you off?” the Starmaker asked, letting his gaze fall just below her face before finding her eyes again.
Aurora flushed and took a deep breath, trying to calm herself. She wasn’t sure how she had lost her advantage so spectacularly, and she was desperate to get it back. “You are mocking me, and I don’t appreciate it.”
“I am doing nothing of the sort. You’re a beautiful woman—did you think I hadn’t noticed?”
The directness with which he spoke only angered her more, and she tried to ignore the way his words made her insides squirm with something that felt much too close to desire.
“I do not concern myself with your opinion of me.”
“A fact that has been quite obvious since our encounter in the woods,” the Starmaker said. He was agreeing with her, and yet it sounded like an affront. He took a casual sip of wine, and Aurora looked to Constance for help, but the rabbit only took a bite of her carrot.
“Why are you insisting on a spectacle?” Aurora asked, no longer trying to hide her frustration.
“Because marriage is a symbol of hope, and Reverie’s Starmaker is about to die.
Imagine what our union will do for the villagers.
It will be written about in history books and children’s stories.
It will reinforce the magic of Reverie and be something to celebrate.
” The Starmaker paused. “I don’t want this marriage, and I suspect you don’t either; let us at least use it for the good of the mountain.
To witness a marriage between the Starmaker and the Starmaker Rising would be remarkable indeed.
Your family needs a glare line, and this mountain needs a story. ”
“We have our stories, and almost no one even knows I am the Starmaker Rising, a fact I would very much like to keep hidden for now.”
“Miss Finch, the villagers will soon notice your absence. If you wish to keep your identity as the Starmaker Rising quiet, then you will need another explanation for your relocation. I may be cold at times, but I would rather like to avoid developing a reputation as a beastly ruler who plucks unsuspecting women from their homes. Marrying in a large ceremony will alleviate both of those concerns.”
Aurora wanted to argue, but she knew he was right.
If she wasn’t ready for the entire mountain to learn that there was magic in her blood, then their union was the only other justification for her sudden move to the castle.
A wedding would answer every question, and Aurora could hold on to her secret for as long as she wanted.
“As much as it pains me to admit this, I believe you’re right,” Aurora said, sighing.
“Though I don’t understand why your death ought to factor into this at all.
Is it not true that once your magic has been transferred to me, you will simply start to age where you left off, as if you had never been immortal to begin with? ”
The Starmaker looked uncomfortable, and he dropped his gaze to the table.
“I apologize,” she said quickly. “I did not mean to make light of your eventual passing. I only meant to suggest that while it feels rather imminent to you, it will not feel that way to the villagers.”
The Starmaker was quiet and looked to be thinking rather carefully about his next words.
“Do not bother yourself with my passing, as this will be a marriage in contract only. From my perspective, the contract will be fulfilled once the ceremony is complete and the glare line has formed between the castle and your family’s home. ”
The shift in conversation jarred her, and Aurora took a sip of her wine before speaking again.
She flushed, knowing what he was implying, and though she would never admit it aloud, the thought had crossed her mind.
He was devastatingly handsome, and while her brain found him infuriating most of the time, her body was all too aware of it.
Still, she wasn’t sure she was ready to share his bed, and she was glad to hear that he didn’t expect it.
At least, her mind was glad; the message had yet to make it to the rest of her.
“I am to keep my own room?” she asked, reassuring herself that she had understood his meaning.
“Of course.” The Starmaker said it like it was obvious, a ridiculous thing to even consider. “I much prefer my solitude to…” He trailed off as if he had realized his rudeness just in time.
“This?” Aurora supplied, gesturing toward herself.
The Starmaker nodded once but at least had the decency to look somewhat contrite.
His voice was kinder when he next spoke.
“This is not how I envisioned living out the remainder of my life, and I know the same is true for you. That, at the very least, is something we can agree upon.” The Starmaker finished his meal and stood, giving Constance one more annoyed glance before turning to Aurora.
“Ina will continue to take care of the wedding preparations so that we may focus on your magic.”
He had begun to leave the room when Aurora pushed back from the table and hurried after him, catching his wrist. He slowly turned to her.
“Please do not make a fool of me,” she said, so quietly that the words came out in a rough whisper.
If she was to stand before all of Reverie in a grand ceremony and a ridiculous dress, she needed some assurance from him that it would, at the very least, appear genuine.
If not for her sake, then for the sake of her family.
The Starmaker winced, a subtle movement that Aurora only noticed because of how close together they stood. For several breaths, they watched each other, neither of them stepping back to create more space, and Aurora hated how vulnerable the comment had been, how exposed it made her feel.
“Even if I desired to,” he said, keeping his eyes on hers for a single beat of her heart, “I do not believe I could.” Then he left, and Aurora stood in place, watching his back as he went.