Page 73 of The Stars are Dying

“What’s down there?” I asked. It appeared like a black hole, but something about it felt beckoning.

“Have you ever heard of the celestial dragons?”

I slipped my sights to him, and his smile widened to a grin as though he took great delight in my lack of knowledge so he could spill the tales himself.

“They existed long ago as Guardians of the Temples. As history tells, they were hunted and slaughtered during the first war when vampires came into creation. The vampire king who reigned here before the first era of the star-maiden kept the last dragon captive below us for many centuries. Her name was Fesarah, a brilliant white dragon, and it was said that when she flew her wings were made of stars.”

The void cut out of the ground pulled at me, so much so I had to clamp my fingers around the railing as dark whisperings coaxed for it to be ventured.

“Do you believe in a god, Cassia?”

As though I’d been snapped back into myself, I had to blink at Drystan to catch his words. “Am I damned if I don’t?” I asked.

Drystan leaned a forearm on the railing, turning his body toward me. “Some say if you pray to the God of Dusk and the Goddess of Dawn your soul will be cycled to the stars. Pray to the God of Death and he’ll make sure you don’t even need a soul. His afterlife may be dark, but it is just as necessary. Thisthingthe celestials encourage people to believe is the orbit to their existence—their soul—makes them slaves turning the lock on their own shackles. Do you want to know what I think? They say my father is the evil one for the control he took of a realm on the brink of ruin, but how are the celestials any better? The humans worked for them, worshipped and obeyed them, all for a promise of their soul returning perhaps a century from now, and they won’t ever remember.”

“You have a soul,” I said, wondering why he spoke as if he didn’t care what happened to it.

“Many don’t. The ‘soulless,’ as the people so eloquently call them. Victims of a curse that was cast upon them by long-ago ancestors. Who speaks for them?”

“No one,” I bit out harshly, without thought, as the memory of the soulless who had killed Cassia sliced me. “They kill without mercy. I have seen and lived through it. This wholespectacleis to gain safety from them.”From you.I didn’t voice the thought.

Drystan didn’t move. My exhale came out hard as I realized how I’d spoken to aprince. “Evil exists in all beings. It is another measure of control that lingers still from the celestial reign that thoroughly warped the minds of men. Brilliant, really, to make the people believe monsters only exist outside the control of their beloved saviors.” He shifted a fraction closer, our bodies near touching as he looked at me with thoughtful hazel eyes. “Even the beloved star-maiden was no exception to what it takes to rule an empire.”

That heightened my intrigue, causing me to forget the proximity that skipped my pulse. “You were around when she was?”

His smile grew with delight. “I was younger, but yes. She was adored, wild and free. Honorable and just. But like all things, she was not immune to the touch of darkness.”

As a distraction, I tipped my head sideward to glance back down. Waxing and waning moon phases adorned the hole, the waning quarter glowing beautifully. Looking up through the glass dome roof, I confirmed it was the phase that shone beautifully tonight.

“It’s a lunar calendar. Created by—”

“The celestials,” I finished.

His irises danced, and finally he straightened, putting distance between us so I could breathe,think, a little more clearly. “Yes. They are rather brilliant.”

His admiration of them made something flicker within me. Hope. Drystan didn’t seem entirely hateful toward the species his kind were at war with, and I had to wonder if there would ever be room in the world for both of them to exist, along with the fae and humans, in harmony.

“So, what do you like to read?” Drystan diverted, holding out an arm as an indication for me to walk with him.

I wondered if there was a right answer. Or at least a favorable one.

“Fiction, to escape.”

“You can do better than that.”

My cheeks heated at his challenge. Something about exposing exactly whatexcited me most in the books I read felt too personal. “Books are sparse. I read anything I can get.” My mouth tugged upward at the playful roll of disappointment his eyes gave as he cast them away.

“Very well. You leave me to figure out what kind of topics will spark your intrigue.” Wheels scraped along the ground and the hinges of the ladder screeched with age as he pushed it. “Not afraid of heights, are you?”

“Not at all,” I said, giddy at the chance to climb it.

As I hiked up my skirts, I almost missed Drystan’s attempt to avert his gaze from my legs. At least he had some consideration for modesty.

I wasn’t used to a climb being so structured. I’d scaled rooftops and rafters, so this careful ascension felt too safe. I wasn’t even looking at the titles, only wanting to taste the feeling of getting to the top, until I was there, peeking up at the endless expanse of bookshelves coated in thick layers of dust. It was wondrous.

Drystan’s chuckle traveled up to me, and peering down, I wondered if the fall would break bones. I found a prince with a dashing smile staring back at me, displaying no hint of the monstrous vampire I thought he should be.

I had to look away, and only then did I find the first script on a leather book. Plucking the book from the shelf, I flashed the cover at him:

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