Dread tears my chest again. ‘What have you done with my travelling companions?’
‘They’re alive – for now. I’m moving them somewhere a little less comfortable, that’s all. I have such plans for them.’
The cruelty of his smile makes my stomach lurch. Without meaning to, my outward sight dims and I read his aura. Darkness steeps the air around him, a halo of red so deep, it’s almost black. Anger so fierce it’s a pure, blind hatred – tempered with not a drop of pity.
Sister’s mercy. I’m going to throw up.
The room tilts again as I stagger to the bed, blinking till my vision clears.
The Arx Magnum signals to one of his guards. They stalk towards me, holding fetters.
‘A precaution,’ the Arx Magnum says as I back away, scrabbling towards the headboard. ‘I know what you are.’ He wrinkles his nose and his gaze travels to my wrist. ‘Try anything and you’ll regret it. I can promise you that.’ The guard’s hands are rough as he clamps my wrists into the restraints.
‘My mother told me you Highlanders respect the gods and the old laws. That you’re friends to my kind.’
The Arx Magnum stiffens, fingers clenching bloodless around the chair’s armrests. ‘Once perhaps. But the gods turned their backs on the mountains, so we turned our back on them. For centuries we hoped and prayed, believed the Dawn Sister would return to us, cross back from the Void, grace us once more with her favour. But then we were forced to abandon our cities and villages – our very air turned to poison. The Branded haven’t been welcome here for many sunrings. We rejoiced as your kind were destroyed.’ His lip curls. ‘I like rarities, Princess. I collect them. And you’re certainly that. But make no mistake, I’d take great pleasure in making the Starborn Seers extinct. I suggest you don’t give me cause.’ He stands, flashes me another sickly smile. ‘My ministry will dine here tonight. You and Lord Astrophel will both attend. That’s not a request.’
With a swirl of his jewelled cloak, the Arx Magnum is gone, the guards following him.
I collapse against the headboard as the key turns in the lock. Pressure builds behind my eyes and I blink back tears. They won’t help me. Again, I try to summon my magic, to draw Star-Aether down my arms, down towards the restraints, down into my palms. But there’s a blockage. My palms don’t so much as tingle.
A suspicion, crystallising in my mind since Thawtide, solidifies. The Celestial Chain, the starstone, it’s activated something inside me. And now the chain’s gone, perhaps lost forever, and I can’t summon starshine without it.
All my life I’ve rejected my magic, resisted its intrusions, tried to repress them, denied my true nature. And now, now when I need it, when I turn willingly towards it, when I urge it to use me as a vessel, it shrinks from me. I don’t know whether to laugh or cry.
Astrophel.
He’s a strategist, skilled at games of power. He’s likely scheming at this very moment, formulating a plan. A way to get us out of here. Now’s the time to put that silver tongue to good use.
A tiny bud of hope unfurls within me. Thank the Stars for Astrophel.
Under any other circumstances, the irony of that thought would make me laugh.
*
LONGHOURSLATER, guards escort me down a windowless corridor. The air is thick with incense, making it harder to breathe, and it’s hard enough already. The dress the Veiled Sister wrestled me into for tonight’s dinner digs into my ribs as I walk – as tight and uncomfortable as the manacles circling my wrists. My body is unused to this extent of boning; full corsets haven’t been worn at court for over a generation.
No words passed the sister’s lips as she stripped me. I only just managed to save the scrap of silk from my mother’s dress from her pitiless, pinching hands. She tossed it aside when she unbound my hair. It would have been disposed of with the rest of my travelling clothes, if I hadn’t snatched it when the crone’s back was turned, filling the hipbath with pitchers of icy water. I hid it, along with Noelani’s letter, and now both are stuffed between my breasts, next to my heart.
Dull pain radiating my ankle, I inch my way down the wide stone staircase, my feet settling into grooves worn smooth over centuries. I grip the banister to steady myself as I strain to hear the muffled voices drifting through the walls.
I’m led to the dining hall. The Arx Magnum presides over a rectangular stone table. Astrophel is to his left. My heart skips, my grimace lifting to a smile.
He’ll save us. Find some way to get us out of this mess.
‘Our guest of honour.’ The Arx Magnum sneers as I’m led towards him.
The rest of the guests must comprise his ministry. They’re as steely-eyed and stony-faced as he is, and fall silent as I’m led through the chamber, ogling me.
On instinct, I tug my sleeve down, wishing I’d been allowed a head covering. This is why I’m here: to be paraded as a hostage, proof of the Arx Magnum’s great coup. I lift my chin and straighten my shoulders. Let them look, then. Let them take a good, long look.
There’s only one empty place at the table, beside the Arx Magnum. I fantasise about spearing his hand with my fork, but then Astrophel leans forwards, raises his goblet, toasts the foul creature beside him. Laughs as he drains his wine.
The smile withers on my lips.
The Arx Magnum waves a hand. ‘Guards, remove her shackles. The Princess knows better than to show her claws. That’s right, isn’t it, my dear?’
I glare at him, then at Astrophel.
