Page 18 of Starchaser
“They’re perfect,” I say, and his attention snaps to me like a whip.
He takes in the sight of me in these silk pajamas as if I have changed out of the expensive gown into something even more revealing, rather than the opposite.
I hate that I blush.
“You look—” he starts before scrubbing a hand over his face, groaning softly. He gives a lazy grin as he settles back into his chair, his cheek cradled in his palm. “Comfortable,” he finishes, enunciating the word as if to convince us both that was what he intended to say all along.
Now, it’s my turn to roll my eyes. Still, I feel sheepish under his gaze, and whether I want to admit it or not, I’m grateful. “I’ve never owned a pair of pajamas,” I say. “Let alone twenty.”
He smirks, but his eyes soften. “Well, ‘pirate’ and ‘comfortable’ don’t really go together, do they?”
I sigh, collapsing back onto the bed. “Don’t tell my sister that. She already doesn’t like you very much.”
He laughs—a genuine laugh unlike any I’ve heard from him before—and I fight the urge to turn my head to look at him. “I’ll wager she doesn’t feel that way about Captain Shade.”
He’s right, but I refuse to give him the smug satisfaction of knowing Margaret is a firm believer that Malachi Shade is preternaturally handsome.
“Why weren’t you at dinner?” I ask, changing the subject.
He grunts. “I despise dinner.”
I prop myself up on my elbow, watching him intently. “The meal or the occasion?”
He shifts uncomfortably in his seat, his expression sour. “The company.”
I quirk a brow. “I’m wounded.”
“You shouldn’t be. I’ve never had the pleasure ofyourcompany,” he says, his gaze finding mine, his eyes devoid of any teasing. “I’d like to change that.”
My stomach twists. “We’ll have plenty of dinners together at the palace.”
“I’d rather it be just the two of us.” His stare is unrelenting, and I suddenly feel like a mouse caught in a trap. “And William, of course,” he adds, as if it was an afterthought.
“You don’t even know me,” I say, my eyes narrowing. “And after today, I’m not sure I know anything about you,Reaper.”
There—something in his careful mask cracks, and some raw emotion flashes in his eyes before he can repair the fissure. His features darken, a shadow passing over his shuttered gaze. “Ah, so youhaveheard of me.” He cuts his eyes at the door, releasing me from his piercing stare for only a brief moment. Then he turns and looks at me even deeper than before, as if he were trying to burrow into my very soul. “All the stories are true,” he says, his voice rough. “Does that scare you?”
I stand, taking advantage of the one chance I have to tower overhimfor a change. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
He laughs again, but there’s no humor in it. “You were afraid of me, once.” His gaze drifts from my eyes to my lips, lingering there for far too long before meeting my stare once more. “When wereach Castle Grim, what you see…” He grinds his teeth. “You will come to fear me again.”
I shake my head, my heart pounding. “Why does it matter to you what I think?”
He gets to his feet slowly, his head cocked. “Do you know how many I’ve killed? How many humans? How many Myths?” His brows pinch, forming a crease between them, making him look as if he’s lived lifetimes rather than only nineteen years. “The king requires that I personally perform all executions in Jade whenever the occasion presents itself. These are nothumaneexecutions. The king demands that I show the people the very worst of our kind, so as to cow them into submission.”
My chest constricts. I am no stranger to death, but when I lived aboard theLightbringer, I killed only to protect my family—to protect myself. I can’t imagine being forced to take innocent lives, and I feel sick when I realize that by swearing the oath of a Bloodknight, I might be ordered to do the same.
“Why—” The words stick in my throat. “Why would your father—”
“Hatred is a curious thing,” he says gently. “Remember?”
Without thinking, my gaze drifts to his chest, where I know his flesh is marked by countless scars. How could a father hate his own son? Enough to force him to act with such cruelty—such…
“I’m a monster,” Titus whispers, his voice breaking.
The Reaper. This is who he’s afraid I’ll meet at Castle Grim—the monster his parents have forced him to become. At once, it’s clear to me why he would choose to join the fight against them—why he would wish them dead. Why he would don a mask and sail the Western Sea as a pirate, saving humans like me from cannibalships like theDeathwail. With all the blood on his hands, every act of rebellion has become an act of penitence.
“But you’re also Captain Shade,” I remind him—remind myself. “You’re a hero.”
