Page 25 of Starchaser
Sybil nods considerately as we step out into the upstairs hall, her brows pinched as she glances at the green baize door that separates the servants’ quarters from the residential wing.
“Perhaps you could speak to Mr. Castor,” she says quietly. “There are rumors he’s taken to chewing a particularly vilesubstance. It’s poison, really. Maybe, if you tried, you could persuade him to stop.”
I open my mouth to ask Sybil what she means, but there’s a sound, like someone turning the knob from the other side of the green baize door, and Sybil lets out a tiny squeak, hurrying back down the stairwell and out of sight before I can get an answer.
I glance at Margaret, but she doesn’t seem to think the young maid’s behavior is strange, her expression nettled, gaze focused on the door.
“Come on,” Margaret says quietly, taking me by the arm and guiding me into my old room. She shuts the door behind us, pressing herself against it for a moment as if to listen for something. A few moments pass, and Margaret’s shoulders slump. She lets out a weary sigh, rubs her eyes.
“Are you all right?” I ask, but even as the words leave my mouth, I wish I could take them back. She just asked me that very question, and I didn’t answer it honestly.
Margaret doesn’t answer at all. Instead, she rummages through her trunk as I take in the cramped room. Somehow, it feels even smaller than it did before, and my memories of staying here—of working as a maid in the Castors’ employ—feel like someone else’s life entirely. And yet, what I wouldn’t give to make my way down the stairs to the kitchen and find Father waltzing about, his face warm and bright.…
Margaret withdraws a small dagger made of Elysian Iron from her belongings. “Take it,” she says, presenting the dagger to me. “Don’t worry,” she adds when I hesitate. “I have another.”
“Where did you get this?” I ask, sheathing the dagger in my boot. During my time as a servant at Bludgrave, we were neversupposed to keep weapons. As humans, we could face severe punishment if we were discovered to be armed in any way. “Jack,” I say with a sigh, and Margaret nods. Well, at least if he brought Margaret into the Order, he made sure she had the means to protect herself.
There’s another sound, like a door opening and closing, and Margaret unsheathes her own dagger in the blink of an eye. On the train, Margaret seemed cheerful—composed. But it’s as if the moment we set foot on the estate, she’s suddenly on edge, and I think again how difficult these past weeks must have been since the attack—how the somewhat normal lives my siblings created for themselves burned to the ground, reducing their hopes of a better future to nothing more than ashes.
Someone knocks, and Margaret steps in front of me, dagger raised.
“It’s only me,” comes Will’s muffled voice from the other side of the door.
Margaret’s hand trembles as she lowers the dagger. “Come in,” she says.
The door creaks as Will slips inside. He glances at the dagger in Margaret’s grasp, nods slowly. “I’m terribly sorry to have startled you,” he says, his voice gentle. “Would it be all right if I spoke with Aster alone? It will take only a minute.”
Margaret cuts a glance at me, and I give her a small nod. She offers Will a tight smile, but she speaks to me when she says, “I’ll be just downstairs if you need me.”
Will closes the door behind her, listening as her footsteps fade down the hall before turning to face me. His throat bobs as his gaze roves my face, and he takes a step closer to me. Tenderly, hetucks a strand of hair behind my ear, his heavy-lidded eyes focused on my lips for what feels like an eternity.
“What did you need to speak with me about?” I whisper, breathless. When I lived at Bludgrave, Will and I spent most of our time together in the conservatory; he rarely entered my bedroom. Something about his standing here now, his thumb stroking my jaw, his other hand snaking around my waist, delicate, hesitant, sends a thrill through me. For a moment, I forget why we’re here—forget that we’re both cursed. Forget that he’s a Nightweaver, and I’m half human, and the very fact that we’re alone together could be enough to warrant our executions.
“So many nights I thought about you, just on the other side of that door.” He leans in, his breath ghosting my lips. “I thought about what it would be like if there were no doors to separate us.”
My heart leaps into my throat, and I press my hands to his chest as if to steady myself.
“I thought about what it would be like to call you mine.” The soft touch of his lips brush my own, but just before he can seal the kiss, there’s another knock at the door.
Will’s fist clenches at my waist, and he groans, stepping back.
“Pardon,” Jack says, peeking inside.
Will and I both pin him with a glare.
I expect Jack to give a playful wink or a nervous chuckle, but his expression is uncharacteristically serious. “It’s from Killian,” he says to Will, taking a small piece of parchment from his pocket and passing it to him.
My heart gives a little leap at the mention of Will’s uncle. During Will’s absence from Bludgrave Manor, Killian dedicated histime and effort to teaching me everything I needed to know about the Underlings.
My stomach tightens.Everything Will failed to teach me.
Will smooths the creases of the worn parchment, and I peer over his shoulder. I recognize Killian’s handwriting immediately, and I’m surprised to find it’s addressed to both of us.
Aster and Will, meet me where the wolves howl. Midnight.
I didn’t know Killian was here—from what Margaret told me aboard the train, he was called away in service to the Crown just after the attack on Reckoning Day.
Will folds the parchment, sticks it into his breast pocket. “Thank you, Jack. Now, if you’ll excuse us—”
