Page 4 of Heavenly Bodies

You control your emotions, they do not control you.

Yet another lesson from another tutor.

He drew his slimy tongue across her throat, and she forced herself to remain still as her magick swirled and snapped until it poured out of her—the final drop in her well.

Into an illusion. This time, a nightmare.

She felt her magick rear behind her, blocking out the Light above them, as the guards all around her stiffened. The hands at her back fell away, whimpers sounding. Before the inevitable screams.

Elara’s illusions were a magick of will. And what she willed was to show the soldiers their worst fear.

‘I wonder what you see,’ she said softly, to the scarred guard now backing away. ‘Is it a wraith? A soulless monster?’ She advanced, as more screams sounded, like music. ‘Is it your own reflection?’

A tear trickled down the guard’s face. ‘Please.’

‘Is that the sound you wanted me to make?’ she whispered.‘Do you enjoy preying on women? Defenceless? Innocent? I wonder if what you see is a man doing what you just tried to do to me, to your daughter.’

He sank to his knees, eyes wide with fear. She vaguely noticed some of the other guards on the ground, wailing and crawling, or curled up in a ball. All so easy to terrify.

She gritted her teeth as she forced one final bout of power into the alley. She willed her nightmares to haunt these men’s sleep for the rest of their miserable lives. And smiled, at the faint scent of ammonia as a wet patch spread across the scarred man’s crotch.

A bloodcurdling scream rose from the man’s gaping lips, and she clamped her hand firmly over his mouth. Tears streamed down his face as he shook against her, muttering hysterically.

‘This is for every woman you’ve preyed upon, every girl you have accosted and taken from without asking permission. I know I’m not the first.’ She leaned in. ‘But I will be your last. If you or your men ever try this again, you will pray for these nightmares. Because they will benothingcompared to what I will do to you.’

Footsteps pounded and she turned to see Leonardo arrive in the alleyway, a look of shock on his face, and two guards in tow. He surveyed the various soldiers slumped on the floor, or wailing, or praying.

His eyes widened, and she tried to force her nightmares upon him, enough so that she could run. But that piercing pain scorched through her head, as the last of her magick sputtered out. She swayed, and Leonardo launched forwards, catching her. She felt rope—soaked in shadowsbane—bind her wrists. She almost laughed. The dampening venom made no difference when she couldn’t even wield the most common, and powerful, of Asterian magick.

However, she didn’t have any energy or any other magick left to fight back as she was marched out of the alley.

An elderly woman hiding in her doorway blanched when Elara walked past her.

‘Who are you?’ she breathed, fear sharp in her eyes.

Before the last of Elara’s bravado left her, she winked. ‘Just an entitled little bitch.’

CHAPTER THREE

The heat did nothing to soothe the pounding in Elara’s head as she was pushed to the foot of the Palace of Light’s promenade. Reality had begun to set in, her veneer of cool confidence shattering as she tried not to tremble, as she tried so desperately to keep a leash upon her emotions. And yet, even through the pain, and the anger, and the Stars-damned ropes biting at her wrists, Elara couldn’t help but look at the structure before her in awe. Spires reached into clouds, casting shadows that seemed to shimmer upon the cobbles below. A waterfall, its waters streaked with molten gold and bronze, rushed down behind the palace, framing the home of the D’Oros. She was pushed up the incline towards the palace entrance, the cobbles making way for smooth ground stone that sparkled in the Light, neat flowerbeds filled with apricot-coloured flowers lining the wide path. She tried to ignore the trickling of sweat down her back, or the fact she was in only her ripped undergown, about to enter the home of her sworn enemies.

‘Enjoying the view?’ Leonardo asked from beside her and she scowled.

‘For a city so beautiful, it’s a shame your monarch is such a conceited prick.’

Leonardo pulled her tighter to him. ‘You will watch your tongue,’ he said, voice low. ‘And keep your traitorous spew to yourself.’

She bit back a retort as they arrived through a pair of gilded gates to the palace entrance.

Flanking either side of the towering doors sat two winged lions, carved from the pure gold that seemed to pour from the city, evidence of the riches of Helios. The mythas were said to have flown through Helion skies once upon a time. The sentinels stood mid-roar, wicked fangs gleaming in the Light. As she was pushed through the doors—carved with reliefs of the infamous Descent of Leyon, the patron Star of Helios—she couldn’t help but feel she was stepping right into the lion’s maw.

The cool marble corridors passed in a blur, the art—so much art, all hanging from intricate frames—seemed to morph and shimmer in the airy space as she was led onwards. More doors swung open, these inlaid with twirling flowers and vines, and she was shoved unceremoniously through by Leonardo.

Elara took two staggering steps in and stopped. The throne room was cavernous. Painted frescoes adorned the ceiling, walls and even the windows, depicting images of the history and myths of Helios. She saw the infamous battle between the ancient winged lions of Helios and the angels of Sveta. Her eyes narrowed as she saw a mural dedicated to the War on Darkness, King Idris painted as a grand saviour as he lay siege to Asteria’s walls, wearing a crown of light.

The arms at her back propelled her forwards, and she gritted her teeth, praying that her magick would replenish by the time she arrived by the thrones she could see waiting at theother end of the massive room. She passed a small pool lined with peach-coloured flowers, noticing the scent that wafted from them. Frangipani, exotic and sweet. Small alcoves were hewn into the walls, gauze curtains drawn across them. Before she had time to check her magick again, to even pause, she was shoved in front of the larger throne.

She didn’t look at the king, instead looking up to the frescoed ceiling, knowing the dismissal would infuriate him.

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