Page 7 of Heavenly Bodies
CHAPTER SEVEN
Elara sank into her feathered pillows and dreamed deeply that night. She knew when she was walking because the quality of the dream changed. Images became sharper and clearer, until they became a reality that moulded itself around her. In this dreamscape, she felt fire. So much of it, hot and close.
She was standing in a bedroom. The darkened room was carved from white marble, inlaid with glittering goldstone. A bed was sunk into the stones, covered in silk sheets, and lying upon it was a woman’s figure. Naked curves glimmered in the waning candlelight, and long black hair spilled to the woman’s waist. The silken sheets rode down to the soft curve of her hips and Elara felt desire pulsing through the dreamscape as an almost visceral thing. She looked around for the dreamer but could only see the outline of a figure in the shadows.
‘I’ve been waiting for you,’ the woman before her said silkily, and as she slowly turned on the bed, Elara found that she was staring into her own silver eyes.
She woke in cold sweat, gasping. Quickly, she jumped out of bed, flung open the wide doors and paced to the balcony, flooded with the deep crimson of the Helion night, the feel of cool tiles beneath her feet steadily grounding her. In all her years walking, she had never seen herself.
She continued pacing, worrying her tangled hair, then stalked back into the room and snatched the soft blanket folded neatly on the armchair beside her bed. Trailing it back on to the balcony, she peered over the side once again. It was too high a drop—low enough to be enticing, high enough that she’d break her ankles with the leap on to the manicured shrubbery beneath her. She walked back and forth, trying to get rid of the itching desire to run from the palace. She knew that Idris had stationed guards outside her door, that there were sentries at every exit. And where would she go should she find a way past them anyway? She cursed, before looking to the divan and slumping on to it in defeat.
Her eyes were drawn to a neat pile of books on the low-slung table. Her fingers trembled as she picked up an edition of The Mythas of Celestia , intricately illustrated with swirls of gold leaf. For the first time since she had been taken from her kingdom, she smiled a real smile.
That trove of tales had kept her company on so many lonely days and nights in her room. Before she’d dared ever sneak past the palace walls, this book had been the only way to travel beyond them. To Elara, a reader was an alchemist. They turned the mundane into something extraordinary, transforming words on a page into entire worlds. To steal away from reality, to feel real emotions for things that didn’t exist? Elara knew she possessed the Three, but reading was a special kind of magick.
She settled down with the book, the strange red hue of the Helion night illuminating the pages. ‘The Mermaids of Neptuna’ was the first tale, and she smiled as she read of the vicious merfolk who, legend said, had fought for dominion over the seas against the sirens of Altalune. She didn’t know if she truly believed in the fanciful tales; either way, if the mythas had ever existed, they were long gone now. But she allowed herself to walk down the familiar passages of her book, before her eyelids finally closed.
The argument had happened again. She’d demanded to know why she couldn’t go outside the palace. Her parents had replied, as usual, that she shouldn’t ask questions. It had escalated from there, until she’d been sent away in tears to her room. Moments after she arrived there, however, Sofia appeared at the door with a plate of food in hand, and sat and listened as Elara cried.
‘You have me,’ she said gently. ‘Even if you don’t have anyone else, I will always be here.’
The shadows around the room had grown darker.
‘Do you think Lukas is listening?’ Elara sniffed, looking into the darkness.
Sofia shrugged. ‘If he is,’ she said, pitching her voice into a shout, ‘then the little sneak needs a new hobby!’
‘Don’t, Sof,’ Elara said. ‘It’s so hard when you don’t get along.’
Sofia rolled her eyes. ‘I don’t trust him. You shouldn’t either.’
More tears threatened to spill, and Sofia softened in response. ‘What would make you feel better right now?’
‘Seeing something other than these four walls,’ Elara said sullenly.
Sofia smiled. ‘I may have a plan.’
The night that followed was the first time Elara ever set foot outside the palace grounds. Thanks to Sofia’s encouragement, she used her illusions for the first time to rebel—managing to sneak herself and Sofia beyond the sentried doors—and saw a glimpse of her kingdom. They pinched cinnamon sugared buns from a night stall, and burned their mouths after gulping them down too fast as they waltzed through the Dreamer’s Quarter, hidden under Elara’s illusions. It was the best night of Elara’s life.
The sound of pots clinking woke Elara. She blinked, rubbing the remnants of the dream that had been more of a memory out of her eyes, and saw Merissa’s honeyed head bobbing as she hurried around the room. The woman smiled at Elara, bringing a tray out to the balcony.
‘I tried to let you sleep as much as possible. But the prince requires that you meet him immediately.’ She poured some mint tea, and pushed a plate of fresh berries to Elara.
‘Ah, I’m sure he was in a pleasant mood when he demanded my presence.’ She popped a raspberry into her mouth.
Merissa tried to school away a smile. ‘He was…a little irritable.’
Elara snorted. ‘Good. Hopefully I got under his skin last night.’
Merissa bit her lip. ‘I was watching you from across the hall. I’m not sure what you said to him, but I think you made quite the impression.’
‘He threatened to kill me, so I threatened him right back.’
Merissa’s eyebrows shot up as Elara stuffed a blueberry into her mouth, shrugging. ‘What did you expect? Him and his father are holding me hostage. I’ll train with him, but I won’t make it easy.’
And with that, Elara sauntered into the bedroom and prepared for her lesson.
The soft linen of her new clothes caressed her limbs loosely as she strolled down the grand staircase. Elara craved the dense protection her Asterian wools would afford her, but Merissa had promised her these were appropriate training clothes, breathable and cool for the heat, and Elara had trusted her word. She had also topped up Elara’s glamour, explaining that her magick only lasted a day and a night without being replenished.
She slowed when Lorenzo came into view, pacing in olive green linens, a shining gold sword slung at his waist.
From his thunderous face, he was in a black mood.
‘ Enzo ,’ she said lightly.
‘You’re late,’ he spat. ‘And it’s “Your Highness”.’
Elara laughed. ‘I’ll call you Your Highness when you call me Your Majesty .’
‘Then I suppose we’re at an impasse, Elara.’
She flicked her plait over her shoulder as she breezed past, the prince practically bristling with rage. ‘Training is going to be fun.’
The heat was bearing down on her, and Elara found herself cursing Enzo under her breath for the fiftieth time that day. Great company he was not. He’d marched in front of her, not uttering a word as she’d followed him out of the palace and through the outskirts of the city to a forest trail. The ground was dry and cracked, the trees sparse. There was little to cover her from the burning Light, and it made her antsy. After an hour of climbing in silence, she called after him in exasperation.
‘You know, if you were planning to take me somewhere secluded to kill me, you could’ve stopped at that boulder a few metres back and saved me the trek.’ Wiping a bead of sweat from her brow she collapsed to the ground.
He stopped, tensing, and turned. ‘Believe me, princess, if I had plans to kill you, you’d already be ashes in the wind.’ He looked pointedly at her, sparking fire at his fingertips. ‘Now get up.’
‘I need to rest.’ And she needed to eat. She eyed the bush of berries beside her.
‘Get up, now ,’ he hissed.
She feigned a sigh, lying back on the hot earth as she reached out and pulled a handful of berries off the bush beside her.
‘Mmm.’ She savoured the sweet tang of gildberries, chewing torturously slowly. ‘Only if you say please.’
He cast her a venomous look. ‘I hope they’re poisonous.’
‘Me too. It will be preferable to suffering through another conversation with you.’
‘Insolent child,’ Enzo said under his breath, striding further ahead without her.
She saw him disappearing into a shaded grove and thanked the Stars for the respite from heat she saw within it as she dragged herself up the hill, the cool of the forest wrapping around her.
The grove was peaceful. White trunks, pale as starlight, twisted up into shades of red, orange and gold, the leaves gilded. It was quiet, the only sign of life from the song of the dawnbirds. The sole thing ruining the moment was the great hulking figure of the prince currently storming through the grove as if it were the last place he wanted to be. She rolled her eyes, following him.
At long last they reached a flat clearing. Fragrant flowers grew in patches, blush-coloured and beautiful. The trees formed a circle, shelter from the sight of any wanderers. She heard the trickle of babbling water and spied a small brook, clear and ice cold, running alongside them. With a desperate look, she bent over, cupping water in her hands and splashing her face before drinking deeply. She sighed when she’d taken her fill, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand and looked up. Enzo was looking at her with a disgusted expression.
‘It’s comforting to see that my view on Asterians was correct all along. Were you dragged up?’
She had taken his cruelty all morning and her temper flared faster than she was able to push it down. With only a thought, she willed her illusions to grow behind her, into nightmares once more that were fuelled by pure hatred.
It satisfied her to see his face blanch as he looked above her, to whatever she had conjured—whatever fear of his her magick had drawn upon.
And just as quickly as he had stumbled, light flew from his hands, whizzing past her.
She winced, avoiding the light, and she felt the illusion disperse. Flames erupted in Enzo’s eyes, and he cracked his neck. Elara didn’t know if it was just her imagination, or if his golden skin had paled a little.
‘Don’t you dare fucking do that again, darkwitch,’ he growled, his tone deadly.
She threw him a look of disdain. ‘Do you kiss your mother with that mouth?’
Faster than lightning, lustrous rays spilled from his fingertips, whipping out in streams towards her. She threw her hands up in defence but it was useless. What illusions, what nightmares, could stop them? His light gripped her like it was a tangible thing, slamming her against the trunk of a tree. Her teeth rattled in her skull as her head flew back. The air left her as Enzo’s magick wrapped around her throat, suspending her a foot above the ground. Flames wrapped around her wrists and ankles, their heat strong, though not enough to burn her. But the light, the terrible light, blazed on, blinding her, drowning her as it spread until it had surrounded her. She struggled, begged for her shadows to help her. But they swirled inside her, doing nothing to come to her aid.
Tears streamed down her face and she could only make Enzo out in a blur, stalking towards her. He walked through the wall of light, and she shook.
‘My mother is dead. But you already knew that, didn’t you?’
Elara’s mouth worked. ‘I didn’t, I—’
‘Don’t lie. You want to know why I hate you? Your family? Why I’m glad your parents are dead?’ Each word dripped with venom as he stepped closer. ‘Because it was your parents who killed my mother. When she travelled to your Starsforsaken kingdom. They are the reason your kingdom was cut off from the world. They are the reason my father started the War on Darkness, why even now you’re all trapped in your dark fucking wastelands.’
Fury spewed out of Elara faster than she could chase it. ‘You filthy bastard liar !’ she screamed.
His eyes searched hers, and he let out a dead laugh. ‘Oh, they didn’t tell you. You ignorant, sheltered princess. Did you think Mummy and Daddy were good people? Fair and just?’
‘They wouldn’t have—’
‘They did. And I hope their souls never reach the Hallowlands.’
Elara spat at him. The lowest, most degrading thing she could think to do. Spittle landed on his cheek, and he only tilted his head, his light still blaring around her. ‘You thought yourself so powerful, with your tricks and your dreams. But what good is your magick now? You’re weak. Useless. My father was wrong about you. You are no one’s saviour. You can’t even save yourself.’
Elara was rendered immobile. But something within her had begun to wail and tear, something so furious, so writhing, that it spilled out of her. At first she thought it was her shadows—that they had at last come to save her. But as Enzo’s light dimmed, as the form behind her grew, blotting out the light, she realized what it was. She only saw the shadow of her illusion, stretching across the grass towards Enzo. It was a nightmare more visceral than anything she had ever been able to conjure. A monster.
Enzo walked back, drawing his sword. The thing roared, and Elara closed her eyes, still trembling as she felt it pound the earth. She could feel it as a part of her; when she wanted it to move, it did. When she told it to swing, she heard Enzo grunt.
‘Elara!’ he shouted. But she wouldn’t open her eyes. She didn’t want to see what she had created—what dwelled within her. She shook with anger as she let the monster attack. She wanted him to die. Truly, in that moment she wanted to kill him, for him to feel the terror and helplessness he had made her feel.
There was a cry of pain. ‘Elara, stop!’
Her eyes fluttered open at the request, and she saw a mass of something silver and hulking bear down upon Enzo. She blinked, and just as fast as it had appeared, it evaporated into the hazy air.
The prince lay panting, as she stood, still against the tree, her hands white-knuckled and balled into fists.
‘I warned you,’ she said quietly. ‘Perhaps next time you’ll listen.’
Blood poured from a gash in his arm, and inwardly she reeled. Her nightmares had never been able to touch someone before. Her illusions had always been just that—illusions.
‘We’re done here,’ he hissed. ‘My father can throw you back to Ariete for all I care.’
He turned away and strode off back down the hill, without so much as a glance back to see if she’d still follow.