Page 5 of Starchaser
“You used your magic to make me sleep!” I hiss, careful to keep my voice quiet.
He frowns. “You needed rest,” he says simply.
“You don’t get to decide—”
Voices from just beyond the carriage door give me pause.
Will clears his throat. “This way, Miss Oberon.”
And just like that, he ends my protests before they’ve even truly begun. He opens the carriage door, stepping down first and then turning to offer his hand.
I grit my teeth, obliging him in front of the two Bloodknights, their scarlet armor almost jarring in contrast to the snow.
Snow.It covers the wood like a sea of white, as if my beloved ocean has come to convene with me beyond the shore. Father always said that before the Fall six hundred years ago, when Nightweavers were banished here, exiled from the heavenly realm of Elysia, winter crept slowly upon the land in late December. Some claim it’s part of the curse humans brought upon the Known World, and the early arrival of winter is a sign of the True King’s wrath. Others, including the Nightweavers of the Eerie, believe the sudden October winters are holy, a blessed omen from the True King, and mark the occasion with a grand celebration known as Holy Winter’s Day. Under different circumstances, I might secretly be thrilled to partake in the festival—the spiced nuts, the mulled wine, the exchanging of gifts—but the celebration now marks the day that Titus will be wed to the princess of Hellion. And when I see his stark figure, a lithe silhouette of midnight fabric against the frosty backdrop of the wood, the abrupt winter feels more cursed than blessed.
It’s Prince Titus who stares back at me now, his chin high, expression cold. Not the pirate captain who’d rescued me from theDeathwail.
“Where are we?” I ask, taking in the thick foliage that strangles the wooden loading platform where a gilded train idles, sputteringsmoke into the dense white canopy. It must be midafternoon—I slept well through the morning, thanks to Will—but the scant light that filters through the leaves is gray.
“Nowhere,” one of the Bloodknights answers. His helmet differs slightly from his comrade’s, so I assume this is Flynn speaking, not the silent, brooding Bloodknight Gabriel who sat in the carriage beside Titus. Flynn’s voice is oddly pleasant—light and friendly and somewhat disarming. “One of the king’s many private boarding platforms in one of the many abandoned woods of the Eerie.”
“Abandoned?” I murmur. “How could the woods be abandoned?”
Although their eyes are mostly covered, I sense Gabriel and Flynn share a look.
“Myths,” Will explains, his expression neutral. “They fled these woods hundreds of years ago.”
Titus surveys the woods, his mouth twisted with something akin to disgust. “Whatever creatures my ancestors failed to exterminate, anyway.” He performs the role of the cruel, haughty prince with such ease; I have to remind myself it’s all an act. Without so much as a glance in my direction, Titus starts toward the boarding platform, beckoning Will with a simple nod. “Wait here,” he says to Gabriel and Flynn. “Watch her.”
I stand between Gabriel and Flynn on the old, rotting platform, my arms wrapped tightly across my chest to keep from shivering. I was made to wear dirty rags and commanded not to bathe before theStarchasermade port along the Cutthroat Coast. I was supposed to look the part of a distressed prisoner. And I can tell, by the uncomfortable silence, that these Bloodknights fully believe that the king doesn’t plan on knighting me because he thinks medeserving.Me—a weak, scared little girl who needed to be rescued. A traitorous wretch who needs to be watched carefully, lest she attempt to flee.
Good. I love to be underestimated.
“Miss—” The word has only just left Flynn’s mouth when an arrow whizzes past my ear.
Gabriel pushes me behind him as the two Bloodknights draw their scarlet weapons. Flynn hefts a crossbow from his back, while Gabriel unsheathes two massive swords from bloodred scabbards at either hip.
“Get her inside!” Gabriel shouts, his rasping voice grating against my eardrums as he shoves me toward Flynn.
Flynn pulls on the same door Titus and Will used to enter the train only minutes ago, but it doesn’t budge. “It’s locked!”
“Damnit,” Gabriel grunts. An arrow pings off his shoulder. “Cover me!”
Gabriel charges into the woods, moving with surprising speed and agility despite his armor, and a moment later, I lose sight of him in the tangle of thickets.
The barrage of arrows stops the instant Gabriel enters the woods, the eerie silence of the forest now deafening. Flynn shifts, standing in front of me. His head swivels left, right. Leaves rustle nearby, and he aims his crossbow in the direction Gabriel disappeared, but the Bloodknight never reemerges. Flynn takes a step toward the thicket, and instinctively, I watch his back, focusing on the thick, snow-covered undergrowth, where shadows seem to seep from the darkness.…
“Behind—!” I start, but I’m too late.
Flynn turns to look behind him, his crossbow raised, but thedark figure has overtaken him, knocking his weapon onto the platform. The assailant straddles the Bloodknight, but I can’t see its face. I can’t reallyseeit at all. It’s as if the figure is made of shadows—a manifestation of darkness itself.
What Icansee is the wicked-looking dagger in its blurred grasp, its blade, inscribed with ancient script, festering with green energy that almost seems… alive. The weapon itself whispers, too low for me to hear, in a voice that chills me to the bone.
My gut tells me the assailant is an Underling, but it looks different from any Sylk or Shifter I’ve seen. Those have always possessed a host, or transformed into a human or animal, and this creature of shadows appears like something else entirely. I can sense the evil radiating from it and instinctively understand this isanotherkind of Underling, and I watch in horror as it plunges its dagger into one of the thin grates that cover the Bloodknight’s left eye.
Flynn’s scream is deafening.
The Underling fixes its glowing red eyes on me. Cocks its shadowy head.
