Page 66 of Starchaser
“Do you mind?” she says, already plopping down in her chair. Her expression—her round eyes, her soft cheeks, her dimpled chin—projects a sort of lightness that compels me to nod without a second thought. She grins, reaching for the plate of tiny cakes, taking one in each hand. Her eyes roll to the back of her head as she takes a bite of the first, not the least bit concerned as the jam drips down her chin and splatters her dress.
This is what I’m here for, I remind myself. From the beginning, my priority has been to get close to her. First, to discover if Morana is in there, somewhere, pulling the strings. And now that I know she’s not possessed, it’s my duty to find out if Leo is sympathetic toour cause and persuade her to join forces with Titus to bring down the wards on Holy Winter’s Day.
Leo’s smile broadens, revealing one slightly crooked canine, and I see, then, what I wish I never noticed. The sunlight pales in comparison with the warmth of her face—the smattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose, the gossamer radiance of her dark eyelashes—beautifully imperfect in a place where men and women go to great lengths to conceal their natural features. She exudes laughter, as if joy were woven into the very fiber of her being, and her long, ebony braids seem to glow, as if every strand of hair has been spun by the hands of the Stars.
Relief courses through me when I realize that I know with certainty that my ability to see Sylks still works, and now that I’m this close to the princess, I can’t detect even the faintesthintof a shadow. There was a small part of me that thought being near her again, I would at leastfeelsome indication of the Sylk queen, but the only thing I feel in Leo’s presence is awe.
I want to be her friend.
“I dread these tea parties,” Leo says through a mouthful of cake, loudly enough for all fifteen women scattered about the room to hear her. “I’d ratheractuallyspend the afternoon with my future mother-in-law, and that’s saying a lot.”
Ireallywant to be her friend.
“You’re not the only one,” Eliza agrees, taking another draught of wine.
“Why don’t we get out of here? Do something fun before we’re needed elsewhere,” Leo says. She turns to me, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “We’ve made an appearance, haven’t we? Besides,” she adds, raising her voice, even though the room fell silent themoment she entered, “everyone seems far too interested in what we’re saying to make any sort of entertaining conversation. It doesn’t matter, anyway. The servants will tell me anything they say that’s worth hearing once we’ve left.”
I glance at Clemson and Davina, their mouths gaping, their cheeks the color of raspberry jam, and a grin tugs at my lips.
“What did you have in mind?”
“Are you sure we’re allowed to be here?” I ask.
Leo has led Eliza and me to an inner courtyard of the castle—a garden that spans out before us like the ocean itself, overflowing with robust roses the deep scarlet color of freshly spilled blood. Tall stone walls surround the garden, but not a single window overlooks the courtyard, sealed up by a domed roof made entirely of green stained glass. I inhale deeply, my senses electrified by the overwhelming tang of metal that seems to overpower the perfume of the flowers.
“Oh, we’re definitely not allowed to be here,” Leo says with a wink. “That’s what makes it fun.”
I remember what Titus said about her ability to stir up mischief—and the hazards of that particular talent.
“Maker of All,” Eliza whispers, her mouth agape as we step out of the servants’ passageway and onto the garden path.
The path, paved with opalescent bricks that appear to be made of some kind of glass or crystal, shimmers as the bricks catch the light of the pale, wintery sun overhead. I fold my arms against the chill, thankful that Leo sent for three coats before sneaking awayfrom our guards through a servants’ corridor in one of the castle’s many powder rooms.
“Are they…” My gaze flits between the dozens of servants carrying baskets as they weave through the garden like ghosts, gathering the roses. “Is this how theMananis harvested?”
Leo glances over her shoulder. “This is where it begins,” she says quietly. “They’ll ship what they gather by train to a secret location, where theMananwill be harvested by the king’s private league of bonewielders.”
I watch as one of the servant boys plucks a rose from its stem, and it’s as if the petals appear to bleed, the liquid staining his fingertips dark red. All around, the servants’ fingertips are marked by this same shade of crimson.
Bloodroses, I realize. These are Bloodroses.
I think about what Titus told me that day on the train—how after Leo first arrived at Castle Grim, it was here, in this garden, that he first suspected she was possessed by Morana.
“We shouldn’t be here,” Eliza says, taking me by the arm. Even through the heavy fur coat, I can feel her hand clutching me with urgency—panic, even.
“But we—” I just begin to protest when I turn to look at Eliza and find her gilded eyes staring back at me, glowing so brightly they’re somewhat blinding.
“Oh, dear!” Leo says, her eyes wide. “I didn’t realize—”
“I must go,” Eliza says, tugging at my arm. She looks over her shoulder at the servants’ passage. “You should, too.”
“We’ll all go,” Leo says, sounding somewhat disappointed.
“No.” I give Eliza’s hand a squeeze, saying, “I’d very much like to stay and hear more about these bonewielders.” I give her a look,attempting to convey my purpose while absolving Eliza of any guilt she might feel for leaving. “I’ll see you tonight at dinner.”
Eliza gives a tight nod, withdrawing from me and hurrying back through the passage by which we came.
“Poor dear,” Leo says, her frown seemingly genuine. “I forget how different things are in this kingdom.”
