Page 30 of Of Stars and Lightning (Sun and Shadows #1)

Twenty Two

THE GOD’S VILLA

THE VILLA WAS cozy—would have even been homey, were it not for the unfortunate circumstances.

The architecture was simpler than the rest of Rimemere, but deep green shrubs, vines and trees covered the area surrounding it, making nature the luxury. It also successfully concealed the building’s true greatness until their carriage crawled closer.

The road to the Villa consisted of withering labyrinths through the forest, making Sol lose her sense of direction every time she tried to regain it.

Defeated, she perched an elbow on the carriage window for most of the way and watched the branches zoom by, the endless expanse of foliage somewhat comforting.

It reminded Sol slightly of home. With each bump on the road, Sol felt increasingly helpless.

Her first bold move as the Heiress, and it was the wrong one.

She peered at Cas.

Although he tried to hide it, he drifted in and out of sleep, same as Jonah. Phil fell completely asleep maybe ten minutes into the journey, leaving Sol alone with her thoughts. All three of them finally slept, letting Sol truly look at them.

Jonah was handsome, in a boyish sort of way that reminded her of Leo. Phil’s presence had awakened instincts she didn't even know she had, of needing him to be safe and cared for.

Maternal instincts, she supposed.

Cas wore his usual black tactical suit, though the sleeves were pushed to his forearms and the usual high neckline was slightly open.

His head rested against the side of the carriage door, his dark hair falling in waves to his chin.

Sol frowned at the remnants of cuts and bruises along his neck, lesions still lingering on his forearms. Even his tattoo, vibrant as the night sky, had dark shadows around it from where the bruises struggled to heal.

She didn’t know much about the effects of copper on the Wielder, only that it suppressed magic, from what she was able to gather through snips of conversations. She wondered if Wielders had other abilities, such as faster healing or those other things species from folklore possessed.

By the look of his wounds, it was unlikely.

Sol wished she had brought her satchel, packed with salves from Yavenharrow, and Leo’s dagger, but none of them were allowed any additional belongings.

When she looked up, she found Cas watching her. Clearing her throat and trying to downplay the blush washing over her face, she gestured to his arms. “Do they hurt?”

Do they hurt? Really?

She held her breath, wanting to toss herself out of the carriage window from embarrassment.

Cas merely shrugged. “Not really. I’m used to it.”

“What happened, Cas? After we were separated that day?” Sol couldn't help the curiosity over his absence. He had only been gone three days, and it had apparently not been out of the ordinary for him.

He faced forward, silent for so long Sol figured he wouldn’t answer. He eventually sighed. “Semmena wondered what to do with me. Kept me in the throne room while he and his kingsmen went over punishments out loud.”

“For killing that man at the wall?”

Cas nodded. “After hours of that, and the occasional punch if I would speak, they sent me to the dungeons. I lost track of time for a while until they took me out to whip me. Then I woke up in that cage and, well, you know the rest.”

Somewhere along the story, Jonah and Phil woke, both watching Cas with furrowed brows.

Softly, Phil said, “Semmena is a coward.”

The Shadow Guider smiled. “I knew you looked smart, Phil.”

Sol hadn't gone through many instances that required comforting strangers, or at least anyone outside her immediate circle.

For them, she typically remained by their side until they felt better, or held them while providing words of comfort.

But both of those seemed too intimate for Cas, especially since they had been back and forth, and she was unsure where they stood.

So, she gave him a small smile. “I’m glad it’s over.”

He turned back to look out the window. “It’s never over.”

It hadn't been too cold in the center of Rimemere, but here on the outskirts, closer to the water, the air was jarring.

They were dropped off at the foot of a mansion, a rustic and beige sandstone with domed, glass-tipped roofs. The other prospects had arrived first, likely already inside the Villa to avoid the threat of rain that loomed on the horizon.

The four of them trudged up the steps, stopping on a large marble half-circle with a fountain in its middle.

Sol made to follow Cas forward, then stopped.

Sounds of waves, gentle and melodic, beckoned her, lapping against what sounded like clusters of stones. Her chest swelled with nostalgia as she darted to their song, not caring to wait for permission.

Taking the steps in clusters, she jogged across the ground and to a small brick fence. She stood on her toes to peer over it, the sound of the sea pulling her from within.

And there it was.

The ocean was wild, crisp, and violent, nothing like the sapphire waters of Yavenharrow. Nevertheless, it was igniting to be so close to it. Like how there was only one moon, the oceans connected, and in a way it meant they all held her soul.

Her mother's ashes floated in them all.

Sol sighed and sank back to her heels. She had to survive. She and Cas would make it to the end, then figure it out. For now, she just had to avoid being killed—and find a way to get some of these people out, or pardoned, or something.

“Quite beautiful, isn't it, Princess?” Sol jumped then smiled down at Phil.

Up close, she could see his tanned skin was peppered with freckles and a youthful naiveness that made her want to shove him in a carriage and send him back to his home.

At the lack of response, he angled his head at her, a slight blush creeping across his cheeks. “Apologies… my brother said I should leave you be, but I was coming to be closer to the sea and felt you here.”

Sol looked back out, right as a wave crashed into a million shining droplets on a wall of stone. “No bother at all, Phil. I also came to be closer to it. Do you wish to see it?”

The boy was short, maybe to Sol’s midriff—he couldn’t simply stand on his toes as she had.

He smiled and shook his head. “I cannot see at all, Princess. I lost my eyesight as an infant from an illness my stepfather felt was best to leave untreated. But by the sound, I can tell it's ferocious. Is it?”

Sol stared at him stupidly. Carefully, she sank to her knees to investigate his face. She was hyper aware of the proximity, a small voice in her mind warning perhaps this was a trick to impale her with a dagger.

But Phil’s eyes… they were muted, glacier blue, distant, and unfocused.

“I—I hadn't noticed.”

He kicked the ground with a foot. “Not many do.”

“Then how—”

The boy held up a hand, and the air around them shifted into tendrils, slapping her hair aggressively around her face. Sol stood and stared in awe as leaves and flowers swirled to her, twirling around her arms and legs. She dared a small smile.

“I'm an Air Dancer. I can see by feeling around with it. Negative space, my brother calls it.”

Through the awe, Sol looked over his shoulder to Jonah, who leaned near the front doors, his jaw set, and arms crossed while watching them.

“Why were you both sent here? Truly just for better chances?”

“I think his father wanted to get rid of me,” he said. “His father is the current ruler. I posed a threat since I came from an older, stronger bloodline.”

The more Sol heard of Wielder politics, the more she hated them. All of them, for allowing such brutality. She shook her head. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. Like my brother said, we prepare for this our whole lives.

It’s an honor to even speak to you.” The boy cleared his throat, the air returning to its usual calmness.

“You should hurry inside. From the stories the survivors tell, which aren’t many, you pick your own room.

” As he skipped away, he called back, “Pick one on the higher floors!”

“Wait!” Sol called. “How did you know I stood here? That it was me and not someone else?”

Phil reached Jonah, who held out a stern hand. The boy smiled sheepishly. “The air dances around you,” he said. “It did at the dinner, too. It seems to really like you.”

SOL TOOK THE boy’s advice. After several minutes of awestruck wandering around the Villa's foyer, she followed a spiral staircase to the upper floors, no other prospect in sight. Cas had vanished, though she didn’t doubt he lurked in the shadows somewhere.

The rooms were in the cylindrical tower of the Villa, wrapped around the staircase in a disorienting spiral.

As the stairs seemed to wrap around and around with no end in sight, she regretted taking Phil’s advice so literally.

Once she finally reached the top floor, she found herself in a small circular space.

There was only one door not flanked by other rooms or halls, but framed instead by two paintings: one of a serene night sky flecked with multicolored stars, and the other a portrait of a lightning storm mid-strike.

Examining the lock, she eased the door open, surprised to find the room before her mostly empty.

It held only a cot on the far wall with a cream-colored duvet and various vines trailing across the wall behind it.

There was a small, rectangular table with two benches, then a stove with a kettle ready to be used on the countertop beside it.

A door hung slightly open on the wall opposite the cot, revealing a modest washroom and bathtub.

The simplicity of it was soothing. Maybe, if she tried hard enough, Sol could forget she was in a villa fighting to the death for her freedom so she could rule the kingdom her mother abandoned.

If she stood in the center of the room and closed her eyes, it was almost as if she stood at the Hound, with the soundtrack of the waves and even the mild scent of mildew.

But then knocks sounded at her door. Illusion shattered. She turned to face it and frowned. Slowly, she grabbed a tea kettle from the stove. Better than no weapon.

“Who...Who is it?”

Unsurprisingly, no answer came, but a thin, crimson envelope slid beneath the door, landing with a phantom gust by her feet.