Page 75 of Starchaser
“They came back for me—your parents. Many times. Your father found ways to reach me—visited me often in the years to come. He was kind to me.” His throat bobs, his mouth twisting into a frown. “He was a good man.”
My own legs give way beneath me, and I slide down the front of the vanity, sitting opposite Titus. My grief splits me in two like a fresh, gaping wound in my chest—the pain so visceral I almost expect blood to pour onto the tiles.
“He’s the reason Captain Shade exists,” he says slowly, quietly. “The reason I became a pirate.”
A pirate. Sometimes, it’s easy to forget that Titus is a pirate, too. Even if he is a prince, as well.
“When you were taken captive aboard theDeathwail, Grace asked me to track them down. To bring you home.” He sighs,running his hands through his hair. “Seeing you again… seeing what they’d done to you…”
“Again?” The word comes on a whispered breath, so low I wonder if he’s even heard me.
He smiles—a warm, tender smile full of regret. “Again,” he confirms. “Of course, the first time we met you nearly took a chunk out of my arm. You have always been quite fond of using your teeth.” He rolls up his sleeve to reveal a small scar hidden beneath a tattoo of a moth.
Just like the moth inked into my spine—my only tattoo. It has been so long since I saw it myself, sometimes I forget it’s even there. Or why I asked Lewis for that specific tattoo the year I turned thirteen. But now…
“Why don’t I remember meeting you?” I ask, attempting to sift through fragments of memories from my childhood. The more I try to remember, the more I’m met with blank stretches of time. Dark spots in my memory. Vague, blurry images I can’t seem to grasp.
And then I realize, with a jolt of panic—I don’t remember being bitten by the Shifter, either. I reasoned it was the traumatic nature of the event—that I somehow blocked it out—but no. Someone tampered with my memories, just as I saw Will do to his father and Annie. I’m sure of it.
“I suppose I don’t have a memorable face,” Titus says, flashing me a lopsided grin. It fades as his gaze roves my expression. “They didn’t tell you about me because they were trying to protect you,” he says. “They were—”
“Please,” I say, raising my hand. “Don’t make excuses for them.”
“Aster, listen to me,” he goes on, somewhat pleading. “There arethings at work—things that, if you knew, would put you in even more danger than you’re already in. You have to trust—”
“Trust?” My laughter is as sharp as any blade. “Who am I supposed to trust? Everyone I’ve ever trusted has lied to me. I don’t trust my mother, and I certainly don’t trust you.”
His teeth clench. “Aster—”
“Just leave!” I shout, hot, angry tears already spilling onto my cheeks. He shifts forward, his hand outstretched, but I swat it away. “Leave me alone!”
He winces, his jaw set. “Fine,” he says softly, getting to his feet. “I’ll go.”
I bury my face in my hands, listening as his footsteps halt by the door.
“You should know,” he says, his voice firm. “No matter what happens”—he fishes something out of his pocket and tosses it to me—“the thing I want most in this world is your and Will’s happiness.”
I catch the medallion in my hands. Look up at him through teary eyes.
This medallion—an heirloom that once belonged to the heir of Hildegarde—could secure my family and me safe passage to the Red Island. I could leave Castle Grim. I could run far, far away from the king and queen and Morana and the Shifter who bit me as a child. I could be free.
But at what cost?
Now that I know my mother is Dawnrender—now that my siblings have joined the Order of Hildegarde—and that the Order has planned an attack for Holy Winter’s Day, they would never agree to go, and I can’t leave them behind.
“I thought if you saw who I’ve been forced to become, that it might make it easier, somehow,” he says, his brows pinched. “That if you hated me, I might feel justified keeping this secret from you. That I might be able to drive you away and spare you from the horrors of this place.” He meets my gaze, his eyes brimming with an emotion I can’t place. “I was wrong.”
I wait for the door to my suite to close behind him before I break, but once I do, the tears don’t stop.
I clutch the medallion to my chest and cry myself to sleep.
“Aster?”
Something prods my face.
“Aster? Wake up!” Leo pokes my cheek. “This can’t be comfortable.”
I blink up at her, feeling as if I’ve tumbled into some strange dream. She wears a tattered brown cloak, a satchel slung over her shoulder. Her appearance alone might convince me Iamdreaming, but the icy sting of the cold tile against my cheek and the crick in my neck prove otherwise.
