Page 69 of Starchaser
“I’m only teasing,” she says, her voice warm and soothing. “I know what you meant. And no, not because he doesn’t want to marry me. I wouldn’t expect him to want that. I never have. But he always knew it was a possibility, as did I. We discussed it. We even agreed to be strategic about it when the time came. Only, now that the timehascome, he’s barely said a word to me. He’s cold and cruel—as if it weremyfault. And perhaps itismy fault for not showing him just how miserable I truly am, but if he knew…” She pauses, the heaviness of what she’s just said stifling the air. “It’s not that simple, though. I wish this was just about securing an alliance between our kingdoms. If it were, eventually, I could persuade Titus to see reason. To be my friend again. But something else is going on. Something I fear Titus has no control over.”
Leo takes me by the arm, guiding me down the last few steps and into another dark hallway.
“Years ago, when Calix became king, he established a law that forbids the taking of human blood,” she whispers. “He wasn’t the first to do so—Hellion and the other kingdoms have had similar laws for centuries, set in place by the True King upon our banishment here. But the Nightweavers of the Eerie were particularly outraged. They think the king has abandoned their traditions—rituals that involved feeding on humans that were considered sacred to their way of life. They believe that this was their right, and with the Bloodroses dwindling out of existence, many are convinced the Crown only created the law so that they could further control the nobility by forcing them to rely on the king forManan.”
“What are you saying?”
I can barely make out her features in the darkness, but she seems to hesitate. “The law has two exceptions. The Crown isnot bound by the decree,” she says slowly, and I think about Titus taking a bite of a human heart in front of a whole host of Nightweavers—something that should be forbidden, but that the king openly condones. “And neither are the noble families that control the distribution ofManan.”
My stomach twists into knots.
I nod. “Like the Castors.” A noble family with notable bonewielders. I knew the Castors were in charge of allocatingMananto the nobility, but I never asked exactly what that entailed. “But they don’t consume human blood,” I say, realizing only after the words have left my mouth that I saw Will feed firsthand.
Leo nods. “Of course,” she says politely, but she doesn’t sound convinced. “As long as the Bloodroses are plentiful, they don’t have to. And if the nobility receives their portion ofManan, they’re satisfied—they don’t ask too many questions, and they don’t oppose the law. But what happens if the Bloodroses die out completely?”
The knots in my stomach tighten. “Chaos.”
“War,” Leo agrees. “And not just within the Eerie—between this kingdom and the kingdoms like Hellion who depend on theMananthe Eerie provides. It’s not a perfect system, but without the Bloodroses—without a dedicated supply ofMananto keep the population at bay—my kind will slaughter every human on the face of the earth before day’s end.”
“But the garden,” I say. “It doesn’t look like the Bloodroses are dying out.”
“For now,” she says, starting down the long hallway. “But each year, the supply dwindles, and no one knows why.”
I place my hand on the stone wall, following her voice down the corridor.
“I’d heard rumors of facilities,” she says. “Farms where humans are kept, their blood harvested so that theManancan be extracted and shipped off to the other kingdoms. A direct violation of the law.” She lowers her voice, so quiet I can hardly hear her whisper. “It’s affecting my people—Nightweavers who have never consumedMananfrom human blood are turning feral. Many are defecting to the Underling regime to feed their addiction. My father believes that it’s because of these facilities that the Bloodroses have dwindled—that the True King is punishing us. But King Calix denies what’s really going on. He says the facilities are for reeducating rebels before releasing them back into service, nothing more.”
My stomach roils.Reeducating rebels. Even if it were true, and the king wasn’t harvesting their blood, what he’s done—locking up innocent people, forcing them to submit to his tyrannical rule…
He would silence anyone who dares speak out against him, just as he intends to silence me. I clench my jaw, steeling myself as the overwhelming desire to tear Calix’s head from his shoulders threatens to cloud my judgment. I promised myself I wouldn’t be reckless—that I wouldn’t let my emotions control me. And when I drive my blade through the king’s heart, I will not be blinded by my rage. I will render my judgment with a clear mind.
“How can I help?” I ask. “You said it yourself—I’m an outsider here, too.”
We halt a few feet from the end of the hallway, where a heavy wooden door muffles a low, keening wail.
Leo grabs me by both arms, the silhouette of her face stark, her eyes desperate in the pitch blackness. “Titus trusts you,” she says. “No matter what compulsion he might be under—no matter what’s influencing him—he’ll listen to you. I can feel it, Aster.You can get through to him. You can persuade him to stop all this before it’s too late.”
“Me?” I balk, even as an unfamiliar sensation writhes in my gut. “Why me?”
Something akin to sympathy flickers in Leo’s gaze. “He’s never looked at anyone the way he looks at you.” She squeezes my arms. “Underlings draw their power from fear and hate. There is only one thing powerful enough to defeat their magic.”
I remember what Will told me once—that the only thing more powerful than fear is love.
“But I don’t—” My cheeks heat, my neck slick with sweat.Love? Titus?I might have laughed if it weren’t for the earnest, pleading look on Leo’s face. “He doesn’t—”
“Of course,” Leo says, not pretending to be convinced. Still, she doesn’t press the issue.
She guides me to the door, and it creaks open just a fraction, letting in a narrow band of amber torchlight. The stench of rot and decay hits me like a punch to the jaw, and my eyes water, blurring my view of the dungeons—divided by a narrow canal—and the Bloodknights patrolling the rows of cells. Two soldiers drag a young human man down the block, his skin nearly translucent, as if every drop of blood were drained from his body.
“Not again.” One of the Bloodknights curses under his breath. “They took too much. He’s already dead.”
The other Bloodknight groans, dropping the corpse. “They always take too much.”
The first Bloodknight kicks the man’s limp body. “What a waste.”
They haul the man out of sight, and Leo closes the door just as another tortured moan echoes from down the row of cells.
A fresh wave of anger rises up in me, and I have to fight the urge to burst through the door and cut the two Bloodknights down where they stand. But to act now would mean I blow my cover and expose myself—and the Order—before the time is right.
