About two thirds of Mealioria’s soldiers had arrived by now. Azain introduced me to a handful, but I decided against getting too friendly with any of them, for more reasons than one. Many of them would not survive this, and I did not need another person to mourn. Additionally, the less they knew about me, the better.
“The rest should be here in about four days.” Azain’s voice from behind made me jump.
I watched our new troops swarm towards where I stood on the front steps of the palace, the moonlight brightening their skin by the second.
“Good.” Soon. So soon, we would get revenge. We would end this madness.
“Are you ready for this? I know Hawthorne would prefer for you to stay here. He was practically begging his cousin after breakfast to try and reason with you.”
A subtle scoff escaped me. Of course he was. He’d been nagging me all week about it. “I’ve been ready for months now.” My head turned to look at Azain’s shining, raven-colored hair. “Besides, this is my mess. You all just got dragged into it.”
He shrugged. “It's part of the job.”
“Mm,” I mumbled, shoving my hands into the pockets of my leather jacket. The summer air had crept away over the past weeks, and the crisp bite of fall had begun to nip my skin.
Azain patted my shoulder. “See you at dinner?”
I nodded, though no longer had the stomach strength to eat. All these women and men, forced to come fight for me—suddenly, I felt no different than Aldous Hawthorne.
Deciding against wallowing in my own misery, I spun on my heel and meandered through the open golden doors before me.
My legs stretched across the marble floors, forcing me to the palace’s arena. The more practice I could get in before this mission, the better.
I swiped a few practice mannequins from the storage closet—and nearly had an orgasm at the reminder of what Seb and I had done in there—then hauled them to the edge of the furthest mat.
I positioned myself on the other side of the room, putting as much space between myself and my targets as I could.
My vision skimmed the plaster-patched hole in the wall, and I prayed to the ghost of Blythe that it wouldn't need any further repair after this.
I blocked my sight with my eyelids shut, forcing deep breaths to fill my lungs to full capacity. My mind wandered to the sea. To my sister. To my friends and the love of my life. But nothingseemed to ease the fire inside of me. I couldn’t force the calm, no matter how hard I tried.
Flustered, my eyes snapped open and I raised my palms. Realistically, I wouldn’t be calm when I wielded starlight, anyways, so why bother practicing that way anymore? It wasn’t doing myself any favors—maybe the palace walls, but not me.
Energy and power buzzed. My skin prickled. My constellastones twinged and nipped at my skin as I drank in the power of the cosmos. I allowed the sensation of ever growing magic to consume me, and when I could see in my peripheral the faint glow of my skin, I set everything I had absorbed free.
The mannequin on the left exploded with a monstrous bang before fluttering ash settled upon the mat.
A smile tugged at my lips. Flawless execution. Finally.
I repeated the same process, aiming the starlight at the center figure before letting it loose.
And missing entirely.
That lack of control was what I was more used to.
The wall behind the mannequin smoldered with a sparkling smoke, but the hole hadn’t completely cleared the brick.
Progress, I guess? Similar to the time I scorched the boulder which wasn't half bad.
Catching my breath, I collapsed to the mat.
I held my arms out, watching the glow of my skin fade within seconds, leaving just the glitz of my markings.
Once we had the Hykah, Beaumont shit dealt with, I had no intentions of using my magic without probable cause. Nothing had changed since I was granted my constellastones—I still didn’t want this power.
When my skin and hair had settled back into their normal hue, I pushed back to my feet and steadied my gaze upon my last target.
Vigor flooded my chest as I stepped forward, positioning myself closer to my final enemy.
