Page 80 of Starchaser
Leo lets out a muffled sob, her hand over her mouth, as she looks over her shoulder at the carnage on the docks. “Why?” is all she can say, over and over again, following me back down the street, toward the alleyway that leads to the market.
“Because of me,” I tell her. “Because I’m still here.”
“What do you mean?” she asks, sniffling. She straightens, pulling her hood tighter as I hurry down the alley, attempting to get her emotions under control, it would seem.
“I mean—”
I halt, squinting at the two figures at the end of the alleyway. A boy with curly black hair gives a frail-looking man a burlap pouch, and the man hands him a small velvet sachet in return. Just as quickly, the man slips back into the crowded market, but the boy lingers, staring down at the sachet, the lines of his face hard.
“Henry?” I call out.
His head whips in my direction, a hand straying to his hip. But in an instant, he recognizes me, his eyes wide with panic.
“Aster?” He nearly throws himself at me, his hands on my shoulders, my face. “What are you doing here?” he asks. “Why—” He spots Leo over my shoulder, and although he doesn’t withdraw from me, he eyes her suspiciously. “Have you come to visit the market?”
“It’s a long story,” I tell him quickly. “What areyoudoing?” I glance at the sachet, still clasped between his fingers. “What is that?”
He closes his fist around the sachet—tucks it into his coat pocket. Up close, I note the dark circles under his eyes, the sheen of sweat above his brow, the faint scent of peppermint on his breath.
“It’s nothing.” His throat bobs as he takes my hand and places it under his arm. “You shouldn’t be here. It’s not safe. Come,” he says, leading me out onto the busy street, Leo in tow. “You can take my carriage back to the castle. No one will stop you.”
Taller than most of the shoppers, he motions in the air, and a moment later, a horse-drawn carriage parts the crowd.
“Only if you come with us,” I tell him. “I’m not leaving you out here alone.”
He laughs nervously, his lip kicking into a half-hearted smirk. “I think I can manage to stay out of trouble.”
“Well, I don’t.” I clench the fabric of his sleeve like a lifeline—for him or for me, I’m not entirely certain. “Please, Henry. How else can you be sure I’ve made it back to my room safe and sound?”
A muscle ticks in his jaw, and he rolls his eyes. “I don’t doubt you’ll make it there just fine on your own,” he says, opening the carriage door. “But if you insist…”
“I do.”
He assists Leo up into the carriage before offering his hand to me. It’s then that he looks at me—reallylooks at me—his eyes narrowing. “What happened?” he asks, searching the crowd over my shoulder as if an Underling might materialize at any moment. “Are you all right?”
I pat his cheek, just once, where his scar reflects the light with a soft pink glow. “Ask me that again once we’ve reached Castle Grim, and I might be able to give you an answer.”
I learn that, much like Will, no one questions Henry Castor.
When the carriage crosses the bridge, we’re stopped only momentarily by the guards, but before they can search the carriage, Henry sticks his head out the window, his expression severe.
“Is there a problem?” he asks petulantly. “I don’t like to be kept waiting.”
“Of—of course not,” the guard stammers. “Welcome back, sir.”
Henry nods once, his jaw clenched, and the carriage makes its way through the gates and toward the stables.
“Thank you, Boris, old chap,” Henry says as he hops out of the carriage.
I didn’t even notice it was the Castors’ chauffeur who was seated on the bench of the carriage until Henry hands me down and Boris tips his hat at me.
“I refuse to use the main entrance,” Henry tells me as he leads Leo and me to a servants’ passage. “Too many nobles waiting around, just itching to make small talk with Lord Bludgrave’s spawn.”
If it wasn’t for the ominous warning the Underling issued a little over an hour ago, I might have laughed.
“I can find my way from here,” Leo says when we reach a fork in the passageway. “Make sure she locks her doors,” she adds to Henry. She pulls me into a hug, then whispers, “It’s not your fault, Aster,” before turning swiftly on her heels and taking off down the passageway.
Henry stares after her, his brow quirked. “What was that all about?”
