Page 43 of Starchaser
I attempt to swallow the knot in my throat as I shake my head, ever so subtly.
His jaw tightens, and he looks away, taking a generous sip of his wine.
I wonder, for a moment, if I tell him that I can’t sense Morana… will he still go through with his plans to kill Leo, if only to be sure?
As I tear my gaze from Titus, I catch Leo’s eye, and she smiles at me, pure and genuine, and suddenly I’ve lost my appetite.
I think of the compass, tucked safely in my pocket alongside one of my daggers, and it’s as if I can feel the staccatotick tick tickof the timepiece inside.
I thought I would have at least a few days to discover the truth about Leo, but the look on Titus’s face leads me to believe he doesn’t intend to wait much longer for an answer.
After dinner, I take Henry’sarm, allowing him to escort me from the table as the nobility disperse. But, since he polished off an entire bottle of wine during the feast, Henry leans heavily on my side, and it feels more as if I’m escortinghim. He brings me as far as the doors to the banquet hall, where I expect Charlie and Lewis wait to take me back to my chambers for the evening. Instead, I’m met by Gabriel, still dressed in his full bloodred armor, and though I can’t see his face, his brooding demeanor conveys a look of impatience—perhaps even annoyance.
“Where are my brothers?” I ask as we approach the Bloodknight.
“Taking a late supper,” Gabriel answers, his voice dull. He turns slightly, as if expecting me to follow him, but Henry pulls his arm closer to his body, tucking me tightly into his side. Gabriel’s eyes narrow on my hand, still gripping Henry’s arm, and he tiltshis head. He adds, his voice a deep rasp, “I’ve been sent to ensure Lady Aster makes it back to her room safely.”
“By whom?” Henry demands, his words slurred.
Gabriel sighs, as if bored. “Whom do you think?”
I assume he means Titus or Will asked him to collect me, but as I scan the crowd, searching for any sign of them, they’re nowhere to be seen. Still, I get the feeling Gabriel isn’t going to take no for an answer, and Henry seems to be looking for a fight.
Slowly, I remove my hand from Henry’s arm and take a step toward Gabriel, putting myself between the two of them.
“Shall we?” I say, motioning for Gabriel to lead the way.
But as Gabriel turns, and I move to follow, Henry grasps at my arm, his touch like a brand of fire. When I meet his gaze, his glossy eyes are somewhat distant.
“Aster—” Henry grinds his jaw. “Be careful.”
I peel his hand from my arm, squeezing it once before letting it drop. “And miss out on a little fun?” I smirk, winking at him.
A small spark of Henry’s usual playfulness lights in his eyes as he shakes his head, chuckling to himself. But as I leave with Gabriel, and Henry is swallowed up by the lingering crowd, I can’t shake the uneasy feeling that perhaps I should have stayed with him.
And when Gabriel leads me down an unfamiliar hallway, that feeling quickly turns to panic. My stomach twists into knots as I slip my hands into my pockets, my fists clenched around the hilts of my daggers. I’ve withdrawn them halfway, my shoulders tense, when we come to a halt at the end of a long, dark passage.
“Through here,” Gabriel says, pushing open the heavy iron door. A gust of cold air nips at my face as I lean forward, attemptingto see what lies on the other side of the doorway without taking my eyes off the Bloodknight.
I’m convinced he’s led me into a trap when—
“That will be all, Gabriel,” comes Titus’s voice from close by, and the knot in my stomach unravels.
I cut a glance at the Bloodknight as I slip outside, and he dips his head at me, eyes unreadable, before shutting the door in my face. The cold night air drags its frigid claws down my spine, and I clutch my arms to my chest, shivering as I turn to face Titus.
He leans indolently against an icy statue, a long black coat draped over his shoulders, his stark silhouette surrounded by a vast, ancient graveyard that spans out in every direction. The heavy blanket of white covering every tombstone and tree muffles all sound; it’s so quiet I almost feel as if I’m somewhere far, far away from Castle Grim, even though, if I squint through the flurries of snow, the warm amber lights of the dark, stone spires surround us on all sides. And yet, despite the towering fortress separating me from the sea, the gentle hum of water prompts me to venture deeper into the graveyard, toward Titus.
For a long moment, he just watches me, half obscured by shadows, half radiant in the moonlight, his eyes hard, his jaw wound tight before he pushes off from the statue and jerks his head as if beckoning me to follow.
Snow crunches underfoot as we pick our way over gnarled roots, wending between the gravestones. My heart throbs painfully in my chest when I think about how Titus might react to my discovery—or lack of it, rather—at dinner. But instead of giving too much thought to Titus’s unnerving silence, I focus on the snow. The moisture beneath my feet, every flurry that swirls aboutmy head, melting on the warmth of my cheeks—there is water all around me, even now. And farther still, beyond the walls of Castle Grim, where the ocean rages, distantly, calling out to me…
We pass a massive stone structure, framed by two winged figures—one holding a chalice, another a sword—and my heart skips a beat, my steps stuttering. Between them, a raven perches atop an iron gate. My hand plunges into my skirt pocket, my fist closing around the hilt of my dagger, but before I can unsheathe it, I realize the bird isn’t real—it isn’t Owen, watching over me in the form of a raven, just as he did all those months at Bludgrave.
Titus must mistake my fear for curiosity. “A mausoleum,” he explains quietly, his voice almost jarring after the long stretch of silence.
I mean to ask him what a mausoleum is, but I never get the chance. At the heart of the courtyard, a dark pond reflects the sky above, a shimmering pool of starlight. Two swans sit serenely atop the water, one black, one white—just like the Anteres crest. Another shiver passes through me, but an instant later, Titus drapes his coat over my shoulders, the heavy material still warm from the heat of his body.
“I’m not that cold,” I insist, slipping the coat from my shoulders, but Titus is too quick, turning me to face him. He grabs the lapels of the coat, wrapping it tighter around me.
