I stare at the flagstones, stomach knotting. ‘So, you’re a traitor too?’
Is everything and everyone a liar? I thought the cielsylph and I shared a bond. Shared a vow.
Orthriel laughs. A shallow, hollow thing. ‘I hope Leilani never thinks me so. Whatever may come, I hope she never believes that.Can’t. Not won’t. My strength, my ability to channel Star-Aether… it’s ebbing. I can’t flare. I can only materialise for short periods. My heartcrystal is almost extinguished. I must refrain from all but essential magic. I must conserve what power remains.’
I narrow my eyes in the direction of their voice. ‘For what?’
‘I have a plan. Will you help me, Astrophel? Will you help me save them? Save her?’
I freeze. I made a solemn oath to protect the Princess, Orthriel knows this. Does the cielsylph really think so little of me, believe me so low, that I would break my vow? I may be a bastard, but I’m still one of The Nine. And The Nine never go back on their word. My father’s maxim echoes back to me. Along with the memory of his distinctive scent – pomade and steel, always drifting in his wake. For moons after news of his death reached us, that smell lingered in our humble homestead. Blayze’s taunts at the Thawtide celebrations shadow my recollection too. Taunts that cut too close to the bone.
‘My father may have preferred my brother, but he thought well enough of me to wed my mother before he sired me, bastard.’
My mother swore my father made her promises, that he intended to organise a binding, to legitimise me… but duty called him away, and then he died. There was even a ring to support her claims – a silver astronomical band she gifted me when I left for the palace, so I’d have something to remember her by. For her sake, I always keep it close – stored safe in my pack, wherever the Arx Magnum’s taken that. But a ring is not a binding bangle.
Lies, all lies.
My father had sunrings to fulfil that promise. Where was his honour when it mattered?
It suddenly hits me. Both men I’ve called Father deceived me.
I made Hyperion a vow, but I swore that oath to a swindler. It’s empty, meaningless. There’s nothing holding me to it. I have a choice now.
Releasing the door handle, I consider my position. Weigh my options.
I’ve always believed Leilani’s quest to be futile. Even were Noelani’s prophecy sincere, our chances of success are slight. I could defect, save my own skin. If what the King said in the Orbium is true, and civil war looms on the horizon for Estelia, whose side do I want to be on when it comes?
Having seen the Gaspings, the extent of the blight, knowing now what manner of king I’ve served, mountain uprisings seem understandable. Noble even. And am I not also of mountain blood? I’ve spent so much of my life denying that side of myself, trying to pass as a member of the coterie. But in the end, blood will out. Isn’t that what they always say?
All I’ve ever wanted was power. Legitimacy. To belong. Hyperion elevated me, yes, but he never let me forget what I am, what I owed him. The Arx Magnum might not keep me downtrodden. I could go to him, spill court secrets, buy my place at his side. I’m not called Silver Tongue for nothing. I could barter my way into his affections, gain his trust.
At his side, my star might truly rise…
‘Astrophel?’ Orthriel’s urgent whisper reverberates around the room. ‘Will you help me?’
I consider their question. Will I risk my own neck to save Outrealmers? To save a woman who’s always scorned me, who chose to flee rather than share a life with me?
Well, will I?
DARK SCHEMES
LEILANI
BLINK.BLINKAGAIN.
I don’t recognise the crimson drapes to my left, or the four-poster bed I’m lying on. The room swirls as I sit up; there’s a fierce pounding in my head. I fist the sheets, trying to anchor myself, and run my tongue over my teeth. My mouth tastes wrong. Bitter.
It comes back to me, then. I’m in Galtair. The Arx Magnum drugged me. Us.
Stars, where are the others?
I stumble to the door, jarring my bad ankle. Locked. I rattle its handle, search in vain for the key. Locked from the outside. Dread claws my chest as I batter the door with my fists. No one answers.
The thud in my head, the ache in my limbs, is making it hard to stay upright. I stagger to the drapes, wrench them open, unleashing a thick cloud of dust into the air. It’s approaching dusk, but I’ve no idea how long I’ve been unconscious. My chamber is several flights up, towards the top of Viklari’s spindle-tower. The window is unbarred, but the sheer drop is deterrent enough. I sink back on the bed. There’s no way out of this star-forsaken place.
The air shimmers by the foot of the bed but Orthriel doesn’t materialise.
‘You’re awake. Thank the Stars!Astrophel is locked up down the hall, the others are being held downstairs, but guards are readying to move them. The Arx Magnum has armed sentinels at every exit. I can’t subdue them on my own. It’s a coup, Leilani. We’ve been tricked.’
