“My father?” I rasp. “Is he alive?”
Soft footfalls reach the bed. “He’s here, and my best healers are with him.”
I let out a relieved noise. “And Aran? Your shadows didn’t pulverize him, did they?”
“Not yet.”
I almost snort at the dangerous edge in his voice.
“What about Raz? Any word? I haven’t been able to talk to him myself, though I can sense he’s peaceful, with no pain or sickness.”
“Still asleep but mending. Indira is beyond grateful.” Darrius kisses my forehead and pours me a fresh glass of water from a nearby pitcher. I smile at him and drink it. “I retrieved your dagger.”
“Thank you.”
He moves behind me to drape his mother’s necklace around my throat. The pendant rests comfortably in the hollow between my breasts. “This has protections in it.”
“Dare, we need to complete the bond,” I say softly before I lose my nerve. I feel the mattress dip as he sits at my side, his warm oud-and-smoke scent filling my nostrils. “If war is coming, we need to be prepared.”
My eyelids flicker open, starved for that strikingly beautiful face. His wealth of silver hair is loose and curtains us from the world as he leans over me. “What happened up there?” he asks.
I inhale. “My magic... went feral.”
“I felt it here,” he says, rubbing his chest. “But you stayed in control.”
“Barely. I... stole power from others. I drained Masišta and his men.” I stare at him, reaching up to wind my fingers in his hair as if the small connection can keep me from fracturing apart at the admission of guilt. “Have you ever heard of anything like that?”
That inky gaze of his darkens even more. “I’ve only heard of magic sharing between soul-fated. But you’re also the Starkeeper, so the depth and breadth of your power is unknown.”
“It wasn’t sharing,” I whisper. “Itookit. Forcibly.”
His face goes hard, ruthlessness taking over. “Your magic defended you.”
“Darrius, what do your legends here say of the Starkeeper?” I ask, thinking of the old Oryndhrian divination that has hung over me like a shroud. The fear that the weight of responsibility has thrown upon me. This feels a thousand times worse. “Indira told me that the sidereal rank is the same as what Oryndhrians call Setareh Framataram. Master of the star. Is there a similar prophecy here?”
He shakes his head. “More of an old fable. A forgotten myth.”
“Tell it to me, please.”
His mouth firms. “Suraya, it’s not—”
“There is power in myth, Dare. Even if it’s bad, I need to know what has been written and what has been told.”
“Very well.” He kisses me, lips feathering softly over my chapped ones. “When the lightbreaker falls, darkness will abound, a king lost to chaos by star-cursed song. Such is the long shadow of day and the bright star of night, a soul-blooming spark tethered to both earth and sky. By the chosen’s own hand, the ill-fated shall die... And as the night sky bleeds, a godslayer will rise.”
Despite the knot in my belly, I roll my eyes and force a wry grin. “That makes everythingsoclear. Glad to see your Everlean ancestors were just as much assholes as mine. Who are the ill-fated? And am I this godslayer?” I swallow and frown. “You’re a god. What if I am fated to kill you?”
“The fates are fickle,” he says. “And you can’t kill me, Starbright. You’d miss me too much.”
Smiling unhappily, I ponder the fable and his words about the fates. “What if I’m just like your father? Monsters aren’t born. They’re made.”
Darrius cups my face in his warm, strong hands. “Trust me. You’renothinglike him. And you’re wrong about that. Some monsters were created to be monstrous. Things that thrive in the darkness do so for a reason—they feed on foul thoughts and foul actions. They are not redeemable. They are not meant to be saved. They are meant to testyou. To test your faith in yourself.”
“What if I fail?” I ask in a small voice.
“The very fact that you are asking tells me that you will do everything in your powernotto.” Darrius pulls me up and situates me in his lap, his lips ghosting over my forehead. “If you want to complete the bond, we can.”
“What about the curse?”
