Last season, in the midst of winter, Lady Trysta Starstorm died by her own hand. Once the matriarch of the Starstorm family, she willingly ingested a poison, one that would ultimately still the beating of her heart in an effort to avoid the allegations made against her. It also came to light that she was the one responsible for their father’s death. Though it was unclear whether she gave Zenos Starstorm the honeysting herself or ordered a maid to do it. Either way, she had killed her own husband as well.
Still, Ariesian ordered each of his seven siblings to wear mourning black, in a show of strength and resilience. Society was aghast by the news, appalled that a lady of Aeramere could commit such an atrocious crime. In the weeks following their mother’s small, unpleasant funeral, House Celestine was the focal point of all gossip. The rumor mill abounded with murmurs of treason, deceit, and more than one lord questioned Ariesian’s loyalty to Queen Elowyn and the crown. It was incredibly painful to endure, but the Starstorm siblings were nothing if not a devastating force of reckoning.
And together they had all agreed—the sooner they removed their mother’s belongings from the house, the sooner they erased her very existence from their lives—the better.
It was one of the reasons Caelian had already forgone her gowns of mourning black in favor of soft purple. For how could she possibly grieve a murderous mother who never loved her?
Ariesian cleared his throat, focusing on his half-eaten plate of food. He inhaled deeply, rolling back his broad shoulders.Their mother’s betrayal had been most difficult on him, because for the longest time, he’d been so quick to do her bidding, so ready to jump to her defense. As the eldest, there was also a slim chance he remembered Trysta differently. Maybe she hadn’t always been a tyrant masquerading in silk and satin.
Caelian thought he might despise himself for it. But Ariesian never spoke of his feelings.
Ever.
“I believe nearly everything belonging toherhas been removed from the premises. Though there may be a few odds and ends.” Ariesian glanced up, meeting her curious stare. He drummed the pads of his fingers along the edge of the table, and Caelian tried not a wince. “Why do you ask?”
“Oh, I was merely curious.” Trying yet failing miserably at reducing the splitting silence of her mind, more like. “I thought perhaps there might be something useful scattered among her things. Like maybe a reason as to why she found it necessary to murder our father.”
Sarelle gasped. Drake coughed loudly while Creslyn arched a questioning brow. Even Kjeld startled at her blatant remark, his gaze swinging toward her, his full lips parting slightly. Ariesian, however, remained steadfast and silent. Yet his hand clenched the handle of his teacup so tightly, Caelian thought for sure the porcelain would shatter.
“If you wish to look through what remains of…the former Lady Starstorm’s personal effects, then be my guest.” Ariesian jaw locked, and his cold silver gaze refocused on his nearly finished cup of tea. Once he learned their mother was responsible for their father’s death, he became a vault. Silent. Never once displaying a shred of emotion. He refused to speak her name. Refused to even acknowledge her as being connected to their family.
Caelian imagined it must have been difficult for her eldest brother to manage some of the vicious rumors that were being spread about them. After all, he was the closest to Trysta. They both served on Queen Elowyn’s High Council, most of the decisions regarding House Celestine and the Starstorm family name fell to both of them. At one point, Caelian was certain whispers floated through Aeramere, carrying the audacious suspicion that perhaps Ariesian knew all along that Trysta had poisoned Lord Zenos Starstorm. It was a bold, if not disrespectfully cruel claim, and was shut down at once.
Still, Ariesian was burdened beneath the weight of it all.
Perhaps what bothered her most about the situation was that no one really knewwhyTrysta wanted her husband dead. The reasoning had never been explored, and the questions slowly evaporated into nothing more than happenstance musings, with any sort of worthwhile investigation fading into the background of society noise. And the noise of society wasloud. With the Midsummer Season fast approaching, many lords and ladies would be looking for a solid match. Yet for the time being, Caelian was absolutely useless to her family—without her magic, she was practically decrepit, and no proper lord would dare spare her a glance, which pushed marriage out of the picture. All the more reason she was determined to prove her worth.
“I think I may rummage through them.” She eased back and stood from the table, fully aware that while Ariesian and Drake stood at her departure, Kjeld remained seated, glowering into his drink of choice. “I want to know why she did it, why she felt it was within her power to take Father from us. Yes, the stars never lie. But they never quite tell the truth either. As we well know, the interpretation of their alignment is a vital element. Which also makes me believe it’s our decisions, our choices, that lead us to our destiny.”
Kjeld scoffed, his lip curling into a sneer. “More faerie fate nonsense.”
“Kjeld.” A hint of dark warning reflected in Drake’s voice when he spoke, and the air in the room cooled significantly. “Mind yourself.”
“Drake,” Creslyn cooed softly, placing her hand on his forearm, flashing him a silky smile. “You know as well as I do where the true source of his anger lies. The bitterness of his heart is not held against us, but what was lost to him.”
The unsaid words rattled around in Caelian’s mind. It was her fault Kjeld was fae. Her fault he was angry and bitter. Creslyn may not have said the words explicitly, but the implication hung heavy in the air. A suffocating weight of tension.
Caelian spared her sister a hasty glance, hating the twinge of jealousy that pierced her soul.
Once, not so long ago, Creslyn had been the opposite of her husband. She was an array of sunshine and rainbows to the gloom and shadow of Drake’s darkness. But something had changed while she lived in Brackroth—the silver of Creslyn’s hair turned black, the pastel highlights were now brighter. Bolder. She strapped a dagger to her thigh, hiding the blade beneath the swell of her gown. She trained. She knew how to fight. Brilliantly, at that. She’d been shaped into a weapon of devastating beauty. Creslyn was still her identical twin, yet now she was different, and part of Caelian mourned the loss of their shared sisterly bond.
With each passing day, it seemed she was losing everything.
“The whole astral influence concept is full of shit, if you ask me,” Kjeld muttered, his scowl deepening. He clenched and unclenched his fists. Twice.
Caelian bristled against the harshness of his tone, smoothing the pleats of her lavender gown. Granted, Kjeld had been madeinto a fae because of her careless use of wishes, but months had passed since the debacle and she was growing irritated by his continuously rude, if not slightly insufferable, remarks. Already, she apologized to him on numerous occasions, but he refused to listen. Most of the time he ignored her, acting as though she did not even exist. So if he was not willing to accept her apology, then that was on him, but she would no longer stand by and take his caustic comments in stride.
“Well,” she snapped, fisting her hands on her hips and cutting him down with her most ruthless glare. This time, when he looked at her, the summer blue of his eyes expanded with heat, and her throat closed. “Lucky for us,no oneasked you. Whether you like it or not, you’re one of us now, and I suppose that makes you full of shit as well.”
The corner of Ariesian’s lips twitched, and even Drake had difficulty suppressing the amusement from his otherwise collected expression. But it was not enough to remedy her mood.
Plastering a fake smile on her face, she faced her siblings and Drake, lowering herself into a brief curtsy. “If you’d excuse me, I require some fresh air.”
Sarelle popped up from the other side of the dining table, flecks of stardust shimmering around her. “Would you care for some company?”
“That would be lovely.” Caelian nodded toward the door at the opposite end of the room, where the winding corridor would eventually deposit them into the gardens. “Thank you.”
Sarelle met her at the door, and they exited the dining hall together, linking their arms with one another. The clicking of their heels against the polished floor caused Caelian’s eye to twitch. It was too soft, too delicate. Like the pattering of rainfall. She needed the chaos of pleading whispers and frantic wishes to fill the void of empty thoughts. Anything. Literally anythingother than the pleasant stillness others seemed to crave and enjoy.
