It collects around us, to where only our heads are above the surface. I’m weightless in his arms. We break off our kiss, and smile at each other. No words needed for the moment.
Too intimidated by the fullness of the moment, I tilt my head back to look at the stars. Admiring them, the way they hang in the heavens.
“Do you wish to see them closer?” he whispers.
As I look back down at him, he’s got the slyest grin. I ask, “What do you mean?”
His turn to tilt his head back as he lifts a hand, slowly twisting his fingers and wrist like he’s wafting smoke. Then, one by one, the stars shake free of the sky. They rain down in brilliant streams, pulled to us in the river. Before they can collide with the earth, they jerk to follow the lazy spin of Cyrus’ hand. Slowing their rapid decline to follow his pace, hundreds of clusters twinkle around us in a lazy spin.
“Cyrus,” I breathe, twisting in his arms to look around us. Everywhere is sparkling light, flickering and dimming like a breath. “I…I’ve never seen anything so…so beautiful.”
“Neither have I.”
When I glance back at him with a wide smile, mine fades into something smaller, something quieter. Because he’s not looking at the stars around us.
He’s looking at me.
He presses a single, light kiss to my neck. “I would bring down the stars for you, Marcella Briarstone.” That voice is buttery soft, saved only for me. He curls his forefinger and middle finger, scooping a cluster of stars to us. Flipping his hand with his palm outward, he freezes them before us.
His power, the magic…It doesn’t terrify me as it should. If anything, it only draws me closer to him. Curious to learn more. My mouth is parted as I regard the orbs of light glimmering and pulsing, caught in Cyrus’ hold.
“Is that what was around us the night I found you in the courtyard?” I whisper.
He flicks them back to join the others swirling around us. “Yes. That was the night I realized you might not be afraid of the truth. That you might actually see me for me.”
I smile, and he smiles wider. He turns his attention back to the stars,flicking his wrist to send them back heavenward. They all scatter, finding their places and gleaming as if they’ve never left.
“We need to get back.” He brushes his fingers through my wet hair. “You need your rest, and tomorrow I leave for the Dragon Academy.”
He carries me out of the water, then immediately sets to dressing me. Though, rather than just my nightgown, he adds on his shirt and coat. My jaw drops open when I realize the stitches are gone. All that’s left of the wound is a mounded scar from my belly to my knee.
He follows my look. “The lady’s maids and others will ask questions. Tell them that you prayed to the God of Healing and she answered your prayers.”
“I won’t ever tell anyone about this, Cyrus. I promise it.” I brush his arm. “I won’t tell a soul about your blood, your abilities, nor this place.”
“I know you won’t,” he says and leans forward, pressing a light kiss to my forehead.
As we walk through the trees, I reach for his hand and intertwine my fingers with his. I tell myself it’s to ensure I don’t trip over the gnarled roots or the rocks hidden within the shadows. But as he tightens his fingers on mine, I swear my heart soars.
Perhaps it’s more than that.
He leads me back to the castle, to my room. As he tucks me into bed, he presses one last kiss to my head before whispering, “Goodnight, my Marcella.”
Fifty-Seven
- MARCELLA -
The beast’s roaring on the other side of Lyra’s door comes to a stop. I tighten my grip on the door handle.
It’s too quiet.
Summoning all my courage from a single inhale, I twist the handle and slightly open the door. Black blood is splattered all about the room. Pillows have been shredded into a shower of feathers. Claw marks mangle the walls. Picture frames are tilted. The chains Devin used to restrain the beast are wound in a chaotic tangle around the bed’s posts.
But the beast is gone.
Slowly I step inside, readying my dagger. Step by step. Until the black blood seeps onto my feet. Until I’m close enough to prod the chains with my dagger. A cracking sounds in the bathroom, and as I round the corner to peer inside, the mirror has a spiderweb of cracks.
The beast is nowhere.
