I look to the heavens. The moons have not yet risen, but they’ll be full tomorrow. I didn’t want to use the mooncrystal, not when it means calling on my cursed powers. But it might provide answers, finally prove or disprove my fear that someone – or something – is following us. I won’t have to summon starshine to draw forth a vision from the orb. At least, I don’t think I will, not according to my mother’s instructions. I won’t be breaking my promise to Orthriel, and I have to know. I can’t live a moment longer under the torment of these phantom eyes, the invisible shadow at my heel, the faceless figure stalking my dreams.
But am I ready to hear the truth? Because, either my mind is cracking and I’m imagining things, or there reallyissome unseen force lurking in the shadows, hunting us. And if there is, I know it’s malevolent. I feel it as surely as the wind tugging back my hood, and the snow beneath my boots.
Blayze bursts back through the shattered door, chest heaving.
‘Come on,’ he pants. ‘I’ve found us somewhere to sleep.’
RIVALS
ASTROPHEL
‘GUESSTHATLEAVESus the chairs, then.’ Blayze folds his arms as we survey the high-backed wingchairs that will serve as our beds for the duration of our stay in the Silver Palace.
Ours is the smallest of the three interconnecting rooms we’ve commandeered, but closest to the stairs. Should anything follow us into the palace and make it past the cragstalkers guarding the main doorway, we’ll be the first line of defence. These rooms must have been impressive once, but now they only have their solid walls and intact windows to recommend them. Blayze drops his pack beside the less threadbare chair. His eyes dart around the rotting chamber. He’s remained twitchy ever since I rescued him from the Arx Magnum’s dungeons.
‘We’ll make it work, eh, Fifi.’ He runs a knuckle along the emberwing’s crest as she comes to roost on his chair. She looks so much smaller robbed of her fire-feathers.
I set my own pack down and look to the flayed ceiling. Me and the Clanschief sharing a room, and only a poky vestibule at that.Sister, give me strength.
Bags discarded, and a fire started in the grate, we quit our humble quarters and return to the central dressing chamber. By wavering lantern-light, Maris is busy ranging furs on the dusty floor. Delphine is already resting on hers, still horribly pale after invoking spritesong. I saw a nearby spring mentioned on one of Leilani’s maps. I’ll advise Delphine to seek it out in the morning. Briar is nestled inside a large wardrobe Blayze turned on its side to serve as stable for her. She’s licking the weeping sores on her lichen-flecked forelocks. I wince and turn in search of Tansy. Briar needs her attention; the wounds she sustained in Galtair haven’t fully healed. I inflicted some of the star-cursed things myself. My gaze lights on the door leading to the last room – the bedchamber. It’s opening.
Tansy slips out and gently pulls the door shut behind her.
‘Is she asleep?’
Tansy nods. ‘Took an age to convince her. She wanted Delphine to take the bed. But I got a fire going, forced lavender tea down her, and Leilani’s resting now. It should help her through the night.’
‘And you didn’t say anything?’ I ask, frowning.
She shakes her head. ‘I still think she ought to be told. She’ll find out the moment she passes something reflective…’
I square my shoulders. ‘Not till we’re sure. Orthriel might be mistaken. We’d only cause unnecessary worry and she’s carrying enough as it is.’
Tansy sighs but doesn’t argue. Her gaze travels to the wardrobe. ‘I’ll hand out rations, then I must tend to Briar. I’ll need to dress her wounds properly in the light, but I can make her more comfortable, at least.’ She starts to search her pack for a parcel of the starfruit. ‘Did you discuss sleeping arrangements?’
‘Girls in here, with you. Boys in the chamber nearest the stairs.’
‘To defend your honour, should the need arise,’ Blayze chimes in, making a shallow bow as he accepts his paltry portion with a grimace. ‘Fancy a hunting trip, Peacock? There’s only so much of this rind I can stomach.’
I nod as I chew. Starfruit may provide all necessary nutrients, but it doesn’t fill a man’s belly. Especially as we’re eking out supplies to ensure we’ve enough to last a return journey. Fresh meat might restore colour to Blayze’s cheeks. Since Galtair, he’s almost as sickly-looking as Delphine. Leilani could use something to keep her strength up too.
Once I’ve finished eating, I turn for bed.
‘Why do you insist on ruining all our fun, Astrophel?’ Maris has sidled next to Blayze. She’s tiptoeing her fingertips up his forearm. ‘You bunk in here. Give Blayze and I some privacy.’
I hold myself straighter. ‘Some of us don’t have the morals of alley cats. Besides, the doors are large and the walls are thin. But please, avail yourselves of other chambers. Preferably on a different floor of the palace. Most were missing windows, some lacked ceilings too. Or better yet, find a quiet street corner. It’s snowing again, but what’s a little blizzard in the face of burning passion?’
Blayze laughs awkwardly, his eyes darting to Leilani’s door. He places a fleeting kiss on the top of Maris’ head, then claps me round the shoulder. ‘Come on, we best turn in. It’s been a long…’ He pauses, smile fading, his expression suddenly grave. ‘On second thought, there’s something I need to do.’ He drops to his knee.
I start back.
‘Don’t worry, Peacock. I’m not proposing. For the record, you’re not my type. Prefer a little more muscle on my man-meat.’ He winks, but all levity soon dissolves. ‘I should have done this sooner, but there was never a good moment while we were running from the guards.’ He reaches for the stolen mace lashed to his hip. He runs the tip of the starburst flange across his thumb. Blood wells. Garnet red and viscous as the molten metal he’s described surging from the Burning Mountain. He takes his bloodied thumb and seizes my wrist, marking my pulse point with the wavering shape of a flame.
‘For saving my life in Galtair, and the life of my Guardian, I owe you a debt. If there’s ever a service I can render you, name it. I’ll see it done. I mark the oath here in blood, until such time as I can scribe your family sigil in ink, here.’ He taps his upper arm, the one that boasts that strange collection of tattoos. ‘I swear this by the Sacred Flame.’
He’s staring up at me, but his eyes are neither taunting, nor blazing with anger, as I’ve grown accustomed to. They’re earnest as a child’s. It’s disarming and I have to look away.
I clear my throat. ‘Wholly unnecessary, Arcuri. Let’s never speak of it again.’ I bid the others goodnight and turn again for our chamber.
