‘Which of you rules the Northern Realm? Surely not the Starspawn… I’m surprised a so-called civilised land allows your kind to persist. The clans made sure to put any remaining Marked out of their misery.’
I swallow. Confirmation of what I’ve always suspected and feared. I’m not only the last Starborn Seer, I’m the last Branded in Arcelia.
Astrophel steps forwards. ‘I serve as the King’s proxy. I am Lord—’
‘I won’t consult with a jumped-up lordling,’ Blayze snorts, cutting him off.
Astrophel pales. ‘You’ll address me with respect, or by the Throne I’ll—’
I place a cautioning hand on his arm.
‘You’ll what, Peacock?’ The taunting curve of Blayze’s lips is more challenge than smile. ‘You don’t deserve my respect. We owe the Star-Led nothing.’ Blayze spits at the ground. ‘My clansmen didn’t want me to make this journey, but the record will show Oralia never failed in its duty. We answered the call of the Flarestone. But I speak with the King, or I speak with no one.’
Blayze appears every bit the arrogant brute my father warned me of; we’re on the verge of losing his ear.
I open my mouth to speak, but before I’m able to get a word out, Orthriel materialises.
Opal flames sputter and flare and eventually die away, leaving my Guardian in their wake. Eyes widen, jaws slacken, gasps rush out. Even the Clanschief flinches.
I suppress a smile as Orthriel’s words settle in my mind.‘I thought you might need assistance.’
Astrophel takes advantage of Blayze’s distraction and advances, placing himself within spitting distance of the Clanschief. Drawing himself up to his full height, Astrophel puts his extra few inches to good use, bearing down on him.
‘We’ve heard enough. I’m the King’s appointed proxy, betrothed to his heir, soon to become Crown Prince. You will afford me the respect that position deserves.’
Serafine lunges from Blayze’s shoulder, beating her wings and uttering a piercing cry that travels straight through me. Astrophel staggers back several paces.
Blayze whistles. ‘Peace, Fifi.’
The emberwing resettles on his shoulder, but her feathers remain ruffled, her copper eyes murderous.
Astrophel smooths his doublet, rakes a hand through his hair. His fingers are trembling. ‘If you intend to stay, I take it you and your brother submitted to checks for Flamefever at the Barrier?’
Blayze stiffens. ‘Flamefever?’ He expels the word as if it has a disgusting aftertaste. ‘My people are no more responsible for the plague than yours. You’d tar us all on the basis of Arden’s actions?’ He shakes his head. ‘You might as well call it Star-Sickness. We’ll never know what drove Arden to curse the realms – what drove her to madness. Zale hid whatever confessions he extracted from her at the Elemagi’s last meeting, the ones he strung into a bracelet of enchanted tears, on that bower where the rest of those flaming cowards retreated. But rumours spread through the Clanlands soon after Arden’s disappearance that it had something to do with your precious Elemagus. Noelani Stellarion.’
He can’t be serious. I’ve never heard tell of any such bracelet. Is he really trying to blame Noelani for Arden’s actions – to blame us?
‘You lying rat!’ Astrophel snarls, brandishing his Crescent Sword.
Blayze’s eyes dart to the blade, linger on the arc of rosy metal. ‘When did you steal that?’ he spits. ‘It’s made of ignastium ore, sacred to the Fire Clans. Oralian-forged.’
‘We didn’t steal anything,’ Astrophel hisses back. ‘Before she was lost to Shadow, Arden presented King Hesperos with a quantity of ignastium in thanks for his gift of the Flarestone. Ground starstone was mixed with the ore before the Crescent blades were forged, that’s why we still use them. They’re indestructible – can cut through anything.’
‘We’ll see about that.’ Blayze draws his axe and a wicked smile blooms on his lips. Kyden edges forwards. His axe is drawn too.
‘Sparkles,’ Blayze says, looking at me now, ‘tell this halfwit to stand down, or I’ll have to take his precious sword – and then his head.’
Sparkles?I want to slit his throat myself. But if I don’t nip this in the bud, any chance of an alliance will lie in tatters. I swallow the insult and stride forwards, standing between Blayze and Astrophel. Between their drawn blades.
‘Leilani, be careful.’
‘It’s too late for careful, Orthriel. If I can’t make Astrophel see reason, you’ll have to step in.’
My Guardian nods once to acknowledge my request.
I turn to Astrophel. ‘Sheathe your sword.’
His ashen face contorts in rage. ‘Get out of the way, Leilani. I’m defending our honour.’
