Page 53 of Starchaser
“Heard what?” I struggle to form words around the lump in my throat.
Margaret beams at me, squeezing my hands. “Word is spreading. Everyone saw what you did—how you saved the king and queen from that Underling.”
“Saved them?” My voice sounds strange, as if I were listening to myself speaking from far away.
Lewis grins, propping an arm on Charlie’s shoulder as my siblings all share a mischievous look.
“They’re saying you’re a hero,” Margaret tells me, her smile broadening. “They’re calling you the Shadowslayer.”
PART TWO
RUIN
Tonight, the second night ofthe Holy Winter’s Festival, is marked by a revel not unlike the ball the Castors host every year for Reckoning Day. Only, when Margaret receives word that I’m not to change out of my red armored gown—despite the inky black blood that stains it—I learn that the king has made a new proclamation.
The Holy Winter’s Gala is to be held in honor of the Shadowslayer.
The great hall buzzes with an energy I can’t comprehend as Charlie and Lewis escort me to the entrance of the grand ballroom, where hundreds of nobles from across the Known World assemble in all-white finery, dressed in alabaster ball gowns and ivory tuxedos. After what took place at my knighting ceremony, I expected a solemn gathering—hateful, suspicious glances cast my way; cruel whispers; and scornful glares. But it seems as if thenobility have come alive, their skin bright, their eyes flecked with gold, too preoccupied with their revelry to notice me as I make my way through the crowd.
“What’s going on?” I say, focusing on keeping my lips from moving—determined to learn my father’s trick, even if it takes a lifetime of practice. Even if he’s no longer here to teach me himself. “Why is everyone so… giddy?”
“The nobility were given their allowance ofMananthis afternoon,” Charlie explains, his voice low.
I look up at him, noting his rigid posture, the way his hand hovers near his hip. I realize, then, that my brothers no longer carry swords. At once, I know this is the king’s doing—that he’s sending me a message. My brothers cannot defend themselves, and they cannot defend me. And in a crowd of Nightweavers, buzzing with their allotment of magic, as humans, we are not safe. A subtle warning, but effective enough.
“Dame Oberon,” comes Flynn’s familiar, muffled voice, and I’m almost relieved to see him dressed in his scarlet armor, weapons strapped to his body. He and Gabriel flank me, dismissing my brothers with little more than a nod.
Charlie and Lewis both look as if they don’t want to leave me, but I give them a nod of my own, and they retreat into the crowd—hopefully far, far from the party and its bloodthirsty guests.
“Maker of All!”
I jump at the sound of Eliza’s voice. I’ve only just turned, catching a glimpse of her bloodshot eyes, her contradictory smile, before she pulls me into a hug.
My heart drops into my stomach.
“Smile,” Eliza whispers, her voice raw. “We’re being watched.”
I try to force a smile, but my lips quiver. “Eliza,” I whisper back. “I—” My voice catches. What can I say? I’m sorry for beheading your friend?
She hugs me tighter, and for a moment, I’m not sure which one of us needs this more—her or me. “Winona was possessed,” she says. “You set her free.”
Eliza draws back, taking my hands as she prompts me to meet her tearful gaze. No words pass between us, but I understand Eliza’s intentions all the same—to absolve me of my guilt. Winonawaspossessed. I may be forced to do many horrible things now that I am bound to the oath of a Bloodknight. But though I spilled Winona’s blood, the Sylk that claimed her for a host is the monster who truly took her life. And whether or not I blame myself, Eliza has rendered me innocent.
My shoulders sag, tears welling in my throat.
“Show no mercy,” Eliza says with a wink, squeezing my hands before disappearing into the crowd.
I barely have a moment to collect myself when Gabriel says, “They’re ready for you.” And with that, we make our way to the tall, elaborately carved doors that lead to the ballroom.
“Chin up,” Flynn whispers. “Deep breath.”
I hear voices on the other side of the thick wooden barrier, the blare of a trumpet. A moment later, the double doors swing wide, and I’m ushered onto a gilded landing overlooking the ballroom. At once, I’m blinded by the dazzling glow of the dozens of crystal chandeliers. All around me are clusters of tall trees bedecked with candles and shiny scarlet ornaments that reflect the light, making it difficult to focus on what’s right in front of me. But with the plush white carpet underfoot and my ruby-red train trailingbehind me, my gown gives me the appearance of fresh blood on snow, and it sends its own message.
I am not like the rest of you.
“Dame Oberon,” someone announces, and the assembly draws in a collective breath. “The Shadowslayer.”
I’m disoriented by the deafening applause, and when I manage a smile at the crowd, I hope it doesn’t look as forced as it feels. Because across the ballroom, the king sits on his throne atop the opposite landing, his golden crown askew, watching me with narrowed eyes.
