Page 89 of Starchaser
An animal screams, the sound ragged and violent, sending a shudder through me.
I peek through the gap in the stone, and my vision narrows on the bloody form chained from the ceiling, head hung, a cruel gash carved into his chest, two more across both shoulder blades.
He cries again, weaker this time, and I cover my mouth to silence a scream of my own.
Not an animal.
Titus.
Queen Calantha’s eyes glow gold as she brings a curved dagger to her lips, collecting the blood on her tongue.
“Shh,” she croons, bringing a bloodstained hand to Titus’s cheek, brushing his sweat-soaked hair from his face. “Behave.”
She places the knife on a nearby table, the rough-hewn wood covered with an array of weaponry, crude tools, and various jars of dark red liquid—blood, I think. The passage led me to a small cave in the dungeons, the stream widening to cut through the stone floor and feed into the canals that separate the cells.
Calantha takes a goblet from the table and presses it to the fresh, gaping wound in Titus’s chest. Blood pours from the cut, slowly filling the goblet, all while Calantha fusses with Titus’s hair, stroking his cheek, whispering softly.
“That wasn’t so bad, was it?” She tuts. “I told you I’d be quick. Have I ever lied to you?”
I think he must be unconscious from either pain or loss of blood or both, but when Calantha draws back, smacking him hard across the face, he makes a rough, quick noise, like a grunt.
She smiles, peering into the goblet. “I would like it very much if you stayed at the palace a little while longer,” she says sweetly. “You were away too long the last time. If you’d come home sooner,I wouldn’t have had to work so tirelessly to replenish my supply. You know how I hate to see you in pain.”
By the wicked gleam in her eye as she removes the full goblet and places it on the table, I know that statement can’t be further from the truth.
She takes a key from the table and removes the first cuff from Titus’s wrist. His body gives a violent jerk as the remaining chain takes the brunt of his limp body. When she removes the second chain, he falls to his knees with a resoundingthud, his face pressed to the stone.
He groans, bloody skin pulled taut over his muscles as he attempts to lift himself off the ground.
Calantha rolls her eyes. “I expect to see you back here in three days,” she says, taking the goblet with her as she slips through the door to the cell, pausing halfway to look down at Titus’s broken body with utter contempt. “Enjoy your wedding.”
The door closes behind her, and Titus collapses in a heap on the floor.
The first sob is quiet, excruciating. The second breaks me.
I squeeze through the gap, nearly throwing myself at him. I land beside him, my hand outstretched as if to touch him, but from this close, I see just how mangled his flesh looks, the cuts deep enough to expose sinew and bone.
“Titus?” I say gently, my voice shaking.
With an unexpected burst of strength, he whirls, scrambling onto his back, his teeth bared in a snarl, eyes glowing gold. But something akin to shame passes over his expression, and his bottom lip trembles as he fights to hold back another sob.
“Aster?” The sound cracks. Splinters. Shatters. Panic flaresin his eyes, blue eating away at the gold. “Get out of here!” He drags himself to his feet, his jaw clenched so tightly I fear he’ll break it. “Go! Before—before she—” He glances at the door, his expression somewhat hysterical—wild and vicious and animalistic in his fear.
“I’m not leaving without you!” I say, meeting him where he stands. I reach out to cup his cheek, but he flinches. “Titus, please. Come with me. Let me help you.”
He bites his lip, shaking his head, his eyes glassy with tears. “You can’t be here.”
“Iamhere,” I say firmly, taking him by the hand. “I have you,” I add, prompting him to meet my gaze. “I’m not letting you go.”
He looks as if he might snarl at me again—might snap at me with those vicious teeth. Might rip my heart from my chest and feast on it in front of me. But then his shoulders sag, and he nods, allowing me to lead him to the gap in the wall.
He hisses through gritted teeth as he squeezes along the passage, the stone grating against his open wounds.
“I’m sorry,” I say over and over again. “Just a little farther. We’re almost there.”
When we finally emerge into Hildegarde’s cavern, Titus stumbles, and I’m barely fast enough to wedge myself underneath him, catching his weight as he plunges into the shallow pool. His head slumps on my shoulder, and I know that it’s only because the water aids me that I’m able to keep us both above the surface.
“We need to get help,” I say, watching as the water turns crimson all around us.
