The queen lowered her arms with a shrug. “I’m disappointed but not surprised. Even with that indestructible beast inside you, you’re still the weak little boy you’ve always been.”
“Do you hear yourself, Sister?” Something in Asterious’ voice cracked. “Do you see what you’ve become?”
“I see it clearly, dear Brother.” Sinevia grinned.
Asterious leaned forward, growling through his teeth. “And what else do you see clearly? Do you remember what you promised me?”
Caramyn listened intently, remembering what he’d told her about their childhood promise, and wondering if this was the real reason Asterious was holding back—the frail hope of finding out what happened to his mother.
“Oh, I see what this is about. I did promise, didn’t I? To show you your mother’s untimely end. Are you sure you want toknow what really happened?” Sinevia nodded, her crooked smile sending a wicked chill.
Before Asterious could answer, Caramyn leapt in. “Asterious, no. She’s playing with your emotions. She wants you to see it so that you’ll break. And then she can put you under her control.”
Asterious stepped back, lowering his blade, and held his head high. “I will not break, Caramyn,” he said. “You have shown me that I am at no one’s mercy but yours. And because of you, I am finally strong enough to face what seeks to break me.” He looked at her with eyes that pleaded beneath their steely armor. “And right now, I’m asking you to trust me.”
And then something slid into her mind—not the sharp and invasive presence of Sinevia, but a calm, familiar warmth that she recognized as Asterious—somehow a shared thought carried across some unseen link. And that’s when it occurred to her that this might be more than just a test of his strength and will. It was one last attempt to reach his sister, to draw her out of her darkness one last time, by the fragile echo of memory of a time before curses, crowns, and broken promises separated them.
“Your witch is clever,” Sinevia mused. “But if you’re so foolish as to think you can bear the burden you’re asking for, I’d be a greater fool to refuse you. It’s easier than provoking you, I suppose. Though I admit not quite as fun.”
Caramyn watched as a tense silence stretched between them. She noticed the way Asterious gripped his sword, as if seeking its reassurance, before he yielded to his sister with a nod, The queen waved a hand, touched her fingers to Asterious’ head, and he flinched. Caramyn drew a breath, every muscle in her body coiled and ready to spring as she watched each move Sinevia made. But something in that bond deep within her that linked her to Asterious’ thoughts told her to wait. To let him have this.
And so she did.
59
Childhood Memories
Asterious
“If you come to regret this, Asterious, don’t blame me.” Sinevia crooned. “The truth has been hidden from you for so long. But Father did always love hiding things.” She stepped near the prince, whispering unknown words into his ear with a chilling softness in her voice. A void of black shrouded Asterious’ vision, leaving nothing before him but empty, unending darkness.
“Asterious!” Caramyn’s voice cut through the smog in his mind like chiming bells in a dream. Blinded, he called for her.
“She’s gone, Brother. You are alone. Entirely alone. To finally face the truth.Yourtruth.”
Asterious shifted and wavered, struggling to find his footing in a world that did not bend to reason or laws of nature. The space around him softened, dissolving into a vision woven from the mist of his deepest memories. Shapes stirred within it, glowing faintly like embers in the dark, their outlines slowly gathering form until figures long buried in the past stood before him once more, in the great throne room of Blackwynd Court.
He was brought before the King, his wounds fully healed, but now a weight in his young heart and a terrifying feeling that was gnawing its way outward.
“He survived your trial,” his mother said proudly. “Now make him your heir.”
Daemar sat back in his throne, his eyes wide with astonishment for a brief second or two, and then unreadable. “How can this be, Elysia? Unless something unholy has been involved. Something...magic.” The King stood to his feet.
Elysia laid a hand on Asterious’ shoulder. “Regardless of how, he is still your son.”
A long silence darkened the air before Daemar finally spoke. “I will not claim a son who is tainted with magic. Prove to me that he healed of his own capability, and I will consider it.”
“No,” Asterious spoke, his legs trembling as he balled up his fingers into fists. “You won’t. You won’t do it, just as you won’t stop lying to my mother, and giving her hope just to take it away. You will never accept me.”
“Asterious, don’t say anything. Be quiet, my love.” Elysia leaned down to whisper her nervous warnings into his ear. But it was too late. The King’s guards were moving already poised to seize them.
Daemar snapped his fingers. “Arrest them both. For treason by use of magic for unlawful purposes.”
The guards closed in, Elysia locking her arms around her son protectively as she screamed at the King for mercy. “You cannot prove anything! Do not harm my son!”
Daemar watched from his throne, unmoved, as a guard ripped Asterious from his mother’s grip. He fought them, kicking and punching, but when a guard struck his mother across the face with the edge of his knuckles, something greater than rage took hold of him. A bloodthirst, a fury like nothing else he’d ever felt. And then he was tearing open a guard with his claws, pulling out his innards with fangs, the acrid tang of blood in his mouth. The guards weren’t strong enough to stop him, no matter how many of them swarmed and stabbed him. And the more they tried, the stronger he grew, feeding the darkness hungering within him as he ripped apart each one. He destroyed guard after guard as the King was ushered away out of the room. His mother’s screams filled the air, horrified as she ran to him, clinging to the purest, wildest hope that she could stop him. She called his name, pleading through a voice shattered by tears and terror. “Asterious!” She gripped the fur on his shoulder from behind, begging, crying. “I’m sorry, my son! This is my fault! Asterious, please, you must stop!”
But in his unleashing, he whirled around and swiped her with his great claws, flinging her into a column that killed her instantly. She lay there, bleeding from where her head had met the column’s edge, and the scent of her blood filled his nostrils among the rest. More guards came, and he killed them, too. Until he finally collapsed from exhaustion—from the toll the Blackheart’s transformation had taken on his body—only to awaken wounded, with no memory of what happened except the dried blood beneath his fingernails, chained to the dungeon floor where he would spend the next fifteen years.
