Page 31 of Of Stars and Lightning (Sun and Shadows #1)
Twenty Three
CAS
CAS DIDN’T HAVE a guess to what room Sol would pick, but he didn't think she would pick the highest, smallest one. In a way, such a bizarre choice was fitting for such a bizarre girl.
He leaned against one of the walls facing the libraries on the first floor, satisfied Sol would likely not leave her room any time soon. Good. Perhaps space would sort out whatever brewed in that head of hers.
“Prince of Eswin.”
Cattya’s voice hadn't changed at all throughout the years. Still as slightly jarring as it had been when they met at the Rimemere academy. She slid around the wall’s corner, tracing one hand against it and the other down his chest. Her boldness hadn't changed either, it seemed.
“Cattya,” he said, eyeing the lingering kingsmen on their way out. “Surprised to see you dragged into this instead of your sister.”
Stone Ledge was a brutal place. Cas had gone only twice, one for the crowning of their Lord, and the other for his burial.
Cattya was now heiress of Stone Ledge, with her older sister Serene as Lady—Serene with a nobleman beside her, though Cas couldn't remember who.
Serene had been the one trained to eventually take a try at Rimemere, whenever, if ever, an heir appeared.
But with her as the ruling party at their home, the task was apparently tossed to her younger sister.
Cattya shrugged. “Sister dearest is busy sucking cock and starting wars.”
Cas smiled despite himself. Checked out with his own memories of Serene. The woman had different partners each time he’d gone—not a great habit for a married Lady.
“Oh, come on.” She leaned closer, so close her breath sliced across his neck. “There used to be a time when you loved my vulgar mouth.”
He slid his gaze to her. “What do you want, Cattya?”
“Only one of us is getting out of this alive to share the glorious throne with perfect little Princess Sol.” She traced the angles of his jaw with a fingernail. "Might as well have fun for now, no?”
It was true, they had fun before. Before he and the Court had left the kingdom, back when he had trivial preoccupations like which one of the noblewomen would keep their affairs quiet. Cattya was the one who sought the same at the right time.
“Because that’s your plan, right?” she continued. “Help her to the end, then you yield, having her win and you save your own ass.”
Cas clenched his jaw, annoyed she had figured it out so quickly. “I’m still not sure what I will be doing,” he lied.
“Bullshit. You have no noble status to surrender if you yield, you’re already exiled.”
Changing the subject, Cas said, “I hear you have sources.”
She arched her brow, visibly annoyed at his refusal to bite her bait. “Sources?”
“To know what the trials are.”
Cattya laughed. “Does it matter? We are all part of Semmena’s little game.
We all know it’ll be you and Sol at the end.
I'm just trying to figure out which one of you will have the balls to kill me.” She sighed and melodramatically placed a palm on her chest. “Meanwhile, we are all just pawns for entertainment.”
“It might not be me at the end.” He shrugged. “Maybe someone will best me.”
Cattya snorted. “Please, Cas. The moment Semmena revealed you—very dramatic, by the way—we all knew we were fucked.”
He traced the stone along the wall with his gaze, the enormous villa suddenly stifling.
A movement in the corner of his vision had his attention sliding left, where a kingsmen emerged from the villa's front doors. He wore Semmena’s sigil, a golden brooch engulfed in crimson flames, probably the only show of Melisandre colors the king dared display so boldly.
Cattya seemed about to speak, but she turned toward the kingsman instead, frowning as he stopped before them.
“A letter from the King,” the man said mechanically as he outstretched a folded note their way.
“Beat it, you. Guards aren't allowed in here.” Cattya made a show of wrapping her hand around Cas's bicep, and he was one more uninvited touch away from blasting her with a Ward now that his shackles were off. “You’re interrupting something.”
His Shadows rebelled against her, forcing her to take back a step.
When neither of them took the note from the man, he simply placed it atop a decorative table beside him. “Be punctual.”
Without further explanation, the kingsman continued walking, surely to deliver the notice to the rest of the prospects.
Cattya sighed, striding to retrieve the paper.
She cleared her throat, then in a mocking tone read, “Dear Prospects of the fifty-third Coronation Vows, a welcome feast will be held in the dining room promptly at twilight. Attendance required.” She finished the sentence with a scoff.
“Why the fuck does it not say an actual time?”
“Let me know what your sources say about the upcoming trials.” Cas pushed off the wall, rubbing his forearm. Sawyer’s blood calmed his tattoo, but it always left him with a relentless itch, as if it knew the blood was diluted.
Not from its creator.
“I don't do things for free, you know.” Cattya smiled wickedly, burning the note in a flicker of flames. “From what I remember, though, you don't mind my prices.” She inched closer and traced a hand across his chest, leaving a trail of sparks.
Enough.
He let his chest flare a flash of violet light, willing it to merely shock her. “Ask your people, Cat.”
“Don't tell me you actually think she will make a good Queen,” she called after him, rubbing her hand. “Semmena is just looking for a way to kill her without starting a war.”
“Ask your people.”
“But—”
“Or don't.” He walked back into the hallway, the Shadows along the wall taking him into an embrace. “Sol and I will survive either way.”