Page 18 of Reign of Stars and Fire

We had Calista.

“Calista,” I said softly and reached over the table to cover her hand with mine. A jolt of something tickled my skin. A feeling like I’d done this exact thing before. “I won’t let anyone put you in chains again.”

Her glassy eyes held mine for what seemed a thousand breaths. “You can’t promise that. Sometimes fate has different plans.”

“Then I will not stop until I unwrite your fate.” I leaned closer. “You are powerful, for you have the appreciation and loyalty of three kingdoms. Iknowyou feel something deeper, but you fear getting too tangled. I swear to you, I will unravel you from this if you help me heal Ari. If you keep trying to help him wake. That is all I ask. I will not ask you to fight, but if your magic is leading you on a path to save him, then share whatever thoughts are in your head. We will face it together.”

Calista hesitated. Her lips twitched. She curled her fingers around mine, squeezing. For a moment she looked like a mere girl, one I would truly protect into the Otherworld. A bond formed, an affection for a young woman I hardly knew, yet felt as though she had become a part of me.

With a stiff nod, Calista released my hand. “You’re right, Raven Queen. I spoke such grand words about helping, then let those hags get into my head.” She dragged her palms over her trousers, wiping the sweat away. “I was surprised by how deep their bleeding rune speak went. I want to go through the lines to see if it matches with my own gut. Never tell them this, but I feel like there could be some guidance to pull from it.”

I reached for the thin parchment again. Stefan had a memory for the ages, and the moment we returned to the small tenement flat, he’d penned the words of the three seers in sharp, neat lines.

A way for us to scour each word, to find a way to save the isles.

A way to save Ari. I slowly took the parchment from Stefan’s hands and read the first line.

Many fates align as history repeats. A foe threatens the present with the vengeance he seeks.

“I mean, we can all guess that one, right?” Calista tapped a blade back and forth against the table. With the low flicker of lanternlight on her face, she looked different. Darker. Wilder. Her hair was longer than I thought now that she’d released some of her braids, and the locks fell in golden waves. “History is repeating. Your ass of a lover is back.”

“I’d prefer if we all stopped referring to Davorin as my lover.”

Calista held up her hands. “Fair enough. But this happened before.”

“Yes. Davorin rose against our people long ago.”

With a sigh, Calista rose, then slumped onto a lumpy mattress Stefan used for his bed. “Then, the next few lines are simply painting a horrid picture of what we’re facing.”

I scanned the parchment. She wasn’t wrong. It was a dreary outlook.

A foe poisons with vengeance he seeks. Misery awaits within defeat.

I wanted to throw something at the damn wall. With a strangled kind of growl, I dropped the parchment. “Obvious. Davorin poisons the land, and lucky for us, if we lose, we’ll be utterly miserable.”

“I’ve no doubt you’ll find your way through this, My Princess.” Stefan chuckled and shook his head. By the hells. Perhaps it was the lack of sleep, the endless worry, the pure violence raging in my heart that my bleeding husband was not at my side, but I wanted to ram one of Calista’s quills through his hand.

I’d blame my short temper on Ari. To blame him felt comforting, like I could go on pretending he would burst through the door and spar words with me at any moment.

Ah, sweet menace, speak true. The rage you feel is not from missing me, but from missing the things my hands can do. Be honest.

He’d be right. The rage stemmed from missing those hands. Brutal, safe, fierce, warm hands that killed on my behalf, and held me close when nerves and panic raged in my blood.

Hands that touched gently and slaughtered mercilessly.

Yes, I missed those hands, for they were attached to the man I let claw into my skin, and I never wanted him to claw back out.

“Princess Saga?” Stefan encouraged when I froze, eyes wet, fingers trembling.

I spared him a glance, afraid to blink lest tears spill down my cheeks in vicious waves.

I read the next lines out loud. “A falcon’s game for which he plays brightens deep your heart of pain. Makers of shadows and mountains, come them all. Patience you need when darkness feeds, lest all thrones fall.”

“Makers of shadows and mountains,” Calista said. “Again, obvious enough we’re talking about the cursed king and shadow king.”

She wasn’t even looking at us and had her eyes clenched, her fingers massaging the sides of her head.

I concluded the same on my own. Valen Ferus could bend and break the earth—he could create mountains. Kase Eriksson was not called the Nightrender for nothing. He used darkness and fear to terrorize.