Page 114 of Of Stars and Lightning
Cattya rolled her eyes and slid off him. She shrugged her robe on. “You’d think I was asking you to kill me instead of fuck me, Casimir.” She leaned against the dresser, a hint of disappointment in her eyes. She looked him over. “If I told you I had a way to make it you and me at the end—would you agree?”
He blinked at her. “No.”
She scoffed, as if she hadn’t expected another answer. “It’s water. Aquarene’s trial.” She inspected her fingernails. “Don’t know anything else.”
Cas sat up, holding the sheet around his waist as he turned to face her. “You always know more.”
Cattya shrugged. “Guess they’re being extra secretive about this one.”
Thirty Seven
THE XANTHOS SENTENCE
TWO-HUNDRED-FIFTY stains.
That’s how many Sol was able to find all over her walls and ceiling, but she was sure there were more behind the small chandelier. So, on the second day of doing nothing but laying in her bed, she removed it.
There were, in fact, two more splotches behind it.
The imminent promise of the next trial loomed, but Sol didn’t care. She didn’t try to prepare or to worry about it. She just—existed.
Because taking that for granted seemed like a sin.
Zeri’s terrified scream as she fell to her death was the only noise that rang through Sol’s ears. That and the occasional soft clatter of what was likely food trays outside her closed door, but she didn’t have the motivation to inspect it.
Zeri died.
Sol failed her.
She had killed Ezra after saying she would never take another life.
She pulled a pillow over her face and yelled.
The second they had gotten back to the Villa, Sol begged the guard to retrieve Zuri’s body and give her a proper burial. They ignored her. Jeriyah was only to burn it.
She had stomped right up to her room and hadn’t left since. Resorted to counting stains on her walls and letting the guilt fill herstomach instead of food. Sol promised herself that joining the trials had been for a reason, one of the main ones being to find a way to save these innocent people. Granted, now she realized they weren’t all inherently innocent—but still deserved to have a choice over who to be with.
Who to die with.
Who to die for.
At least, that’s what she would continue to say to keep from throwing herself off the spiral staircase.
“Everyone deserves mercy.”
“No, Princess. Not everyone does.”
A knock at her door had her sliding her gaze toward it.
She remained silent.
The room was dark thanks to her disemboweling the flame-lit chandelier. Maybe they would think she was sleeping and leave her be.
The knock came again, louder this time.
Sol groaned and turned to face the wall, covering herself with her quilt.
“Sol? If you don’t open the door, I will.”
