Page 114 of Starchaser
Mother’s throat bobs, but she straightens her spine, regaining her composure. “I never wanted to keep this a secret from you all, but I did it for the good of everyone,” she says, as if still trying to convince herself she did the right thing. “The Order couldn’t let Morana, Owen, or any Underling know we were onto them. And although some of our suspicions were wrong, we still acted when it mattered most.”
Mother withdraws a compass from her pocket, places it on the table in front of her.
Father’s compass—mycompass.
“Gabriel took it from you as you were escorted to the dungeons,” she says, cutting a glance at Eliza, her expression grateful.
“I don’t understand,” I say, my gaze narrowing on the small golden trinket. “What does Father’s compass have to do with any of this?”
Mother and Father share a look.
“No one has ever been able to locate the entrance to Morana’s kingdom,” Mother says. “Her lair has been obscured by the fire and shadow of the Burning Lands, so no one has come close to finding it. But the sword that expelled Morana from Leonora’s body was enchanted—spelled in a way so that the magic attached itself to Morana’s soul, giving us the means to track her with this,” she adds, tapping the lid of the compass, etched with Father’s handwriting. “But for the spell to work, we needed the enchanted compass close by when the sword made contact with Morana’s host. This linked the two enchantments and enabled us to track Morana.”
I try to catch Father’s eye, but he stares at the compass, hisexpression nettled. “That’s why you gave it to me,” I say. “Because you knew Morana would come for me.”
Mother nods, her expression solemn. “Now,” she says, “for the first time in six hundred years, we can attack Morana where she least expects it—in her own kingdom, where she believes she’s safe. Our Sorcerers can perform a ritual to bind her in her corporeal form and bring her here, where you will be able to take back the full power of the Lightbringer. With Morana defeated, we could turn the tide of the war. You could eradicate the Underling threat—once and for all. And with just a drop of Morana’s blood, we could break Titus’s compulsion. We could save Will from his curse.” She pauses, drops her voice an octave. “We could set Owen free.”
My hands brush my hips, itching for the familiar hilts of my daggers as I look around the room. “Why are we still here?”
The four Myths shift uneasily, and Killian sighs, running a hand through his hair. He scowls, casting a glance at Mother, who watches Father whispering quietly to Charlie, his hands on my brother’s shoulders. To my right, Eliza murmurs something in Lewis’s ear, and I turn to see Lewis staring blankly at the map in front of him.
“It’s not that simple.” Killian clears his throat, his brow furrowed. “This kind of attack—it takes time. Planning.”
“What about Will?” I ask, and a muscle in Killian’s jaw twitches, but he doesn’t answer. I look at Mother, feeling that wild, vicious beast clawing at my chest. I think of Owen, forced to serve Morana, and Will—he might have survived the initial fever, but I can’t be certain how long he’ll be able to stave it off. “Titus doesn’t have time!” I insist. “What if Morana—what if she—”
“Aster,” Mother says calmly. “We have plans to leave one week from today.”
“Why not now? Why not—”
“Aster!” she repeats, firmer this time. “The Shifter who bit you is still alive. Orella believes you haven’t succumbed to your curse because he’s manipulating it somehow—manipulatingyou. We need to focus on keeping you well. If something were to happen to you now—”
“I’m going!” I say through gritted teeth. “I refuse to stay here while you risk your lives—”
“No,” Father says quietly, and I whirl to face him, tears stinging my cheeks. “Listen to your mother, Aster. You will stay here, where Orella can continue using her magic to keep you alive long enough for us to get the cure. That’s an order.”
I look to Killian. I don’t know why I expect him to speak up, to take my side, but he doesn’t even meet my eye. No one will. The realization grabs hold of my throat, cutting off my supply of air, until the room is spinning in earnest. They didn’t listen to Owen. Or Titus. They’re not going to listen to me.
Father reaches out to grasp my shoulder, but I shove past him, through the doorway, leaving the room without looking back.
The colorful bird perches onmy window. I sit in a wooden rocking chair with my legs underneath me, and Dinah, Killian’s bloodhound, lies curled up at my feet, sleeping soundly. I bask in the final apricot rays of sunlight, watching as the waves crash against the white sandy beaches down below. My chest aches knowing that somewhere, out there, Titus is looking for me. That after spending a lifetime being forced to act with such cruelty by his parents, he’s been compelled to kill the very people he’s fought to protect. And I’m stuck here, only steps away from a fleet of ships, and I’m still not free to go where I please. Because if I could, I would have already commissioned a crew and set sail for the Burning Lands.
Somehow, I know that if the roles were reversed, Titus would do the same. If it meant freeing me from Morana’s compulsion, hewouldn’t take no for an answer. He’d storm the gates of Morana’s kingdom and wouldn’t leave until he procured a drop of her blood. For Will, and for me. That’s just who he is.
Despite everything I think about him—his arrogance, his violent nature—I am certain of this: Titus is not what he’s been forced to become. He is not the Reaper. Not a puppet for Morana to control. He’s the boy who endured unspeakable torture, to keep others from suffering his same fate. The boy who dedicated his life to saving children from cannibal ships and feeding starving pirate clans—the very people who would have hated him if they knew he was a Nightweaver prince. The boy who risked his own life—his own freedom—every time he put on the mask of Captain Shade, but did it anyway, because it meant others might be freed.
Leo knew this. She used her final breath to tell me so. And I believe her.
Titusisgood. Now, I must be good enough to save him. Brave enough. Fearless enough. Fast enough.
I will not let them take him.
And still, what he said to me in the dungeons—what he said about Will. What Titus said abouthis own feelings for me…
I shake my head, attempting to clear my thoughts. I can’t focus on that now. Not when he needs my help. Not when I can’t be sure what he said was even true and not just a product of Morana’s compulsion.
Margaret came to check on me an hour ago, to see if I wanted anything for supper. I didn’t. She tried to persuade me to eat something before the party tonight, but I don’t seem to have much of an appetite. An aftereffect of the fever, perhaps. Or maybe I just can’t bring myself to eat when I know Will is suffering from anunspeakable hunger that cannot be slaked by roast chicken or apple pie. I told her I was saving room for the buffet that was prepared in honor of my family’s return.
A half-truth.
