Page 20 of Stars Above the Never Sea (The Last Faeyte #1)

Chapter thirteen

Selene

C allan Edgeborn is a lazy, irritating, confusing eejit.

Fueling my rising anger into my hands, I drag the rough stone over the wooden deck again, scrubbing off the black traces of tar.

My fingers sting from the tang of saltwater, but I ignore it in favor of staring at Callan.

He turns his head from where he’s speaking to Solomon, his eyebrows raising in silent challenge as I drop my eyes again and scrub.

Eejit.

I’ve met plenty like him. Men happy to sit back and wallow in the small amount of power they hold, while others build their wealth for them with sweat and pain.

Boralas built himself an empire with my pain.

But something about Callan Edgeborn’s sly half-smile disturbs me. Almost like a tingle beneath my skin, and I grit my teeth against the urge to scratch it away, yanking down my sleeve instead. The slick filth beneath my fingers doesn’t help.

I need a bath. I need to wash.

I need to be clean.

“Steady.” Beside me, Esme sounds half-amused, half-serious. “We’re not going to make it back if you scrub a hole through the ship.”

Sitting back, I let the stone fall. “He’s just sitting there. While you do all the work.”

She leans forward, dragging her own stone down again. “Not everything is what it looks like. He pulls his weight. More than.”

My sniff clearly conveys my thoughts. “Really.”

“Yes.” Her voice shifts, dropping into something tighter. “Really.”

Taking heed of the warning, I shift, blocking him from the corner of my eye and falling into silence. We find a rhythm for a few minutes, until footsteps sound behind me. “Water?”

Gods, yes. Sweat pools in the small of my back, my hair sticking to my neck.

I take the canteen from the other male—Riordan—swishing it. It’s full, but he holds out a hand to stop me when I raise it to my lips. “We get two of these a day. Extra for emergencies only.”

Nodding, I take a small sip, barely wetting my lips. I’ll use the rest to clean up as best I can.

Thirst closes my throat, and I cough to clear it. Esme is eyeing me, and I glance between the two of them. Riordan pulls his eyes away from her long enough to notice my stare and grins. “ So . Since Smee got to ask her questions this morning, does that mean I can ask mine?”

I consider it. For a moment. “No.”

His brows push together. “I’ll answer yours in return.”

Esme’s small smile vanishes. “Careful, Rio.”

But the offer is tempting. Setting the canteen down beside me, I pick up the rough stone again, weighing it in my hand. “Fine. I get to go first.”

A grin spreads across his face. “Deal. But we get the same number of questions.”

Nodding, I let my eyes drift to the numbers on their faces. “Tell me about those. I don’t remember Caelumnai wearing them. They’re a representation of your maegis . ”

Rio tilts his head, as if to show off the scarlet six. “How much do you know about our maegis?”

Another memory. Of Erena, tall and lithe and gentle, leaning over me as I studied a script.

Sunlight filtering through the stained-glass window, sending pretty patterns dancing across the pages that interested me much more than the dry tome beneath.

Of the way she smiled instead of scolding me for my inattention, instead gathering pieces of colored glass and putting them together to show me how the patterns worked, the script forgotten.

“Not that much.” I swallow, blinking the patterns away from my vision. “There are three classes? Tiers?”

Rio nods, grabbing a stone from Esme’s bucket and settling in on my other side. “Tiers work. I’m a vis, and so is Sol. It’s the most common.”

“Elemental manipulation.”

“Yes.” He stretches out his arms, and I glance at the thin copper band. Perhaps he’ll offer the information without me wasting a question. I don’t remember any Caelumnai voluntarily wearing copper, either.

But Rio catches my glance, lips spreading into a smirk. “I don’t give anything for free.”

Fine . “Then explain the tiers to me. It’s been… a long time.”

And I’ll need whatever knowledge I can gather before setting foot in Asteria again. Edgeborn was right about that, at least. It will not be the home I once knew.

He waits for Esme’s nod before continuing. “So we have the vis. Then we have the peristi.”

“Transmutation.” I keep my eyes from Esme’s face. “Violet eyes. They can change physical things from their base state into something else.”

“I feel like I’m in one of Merrick’s lessons,” Esme mutters. But she humors me. “Yes. We create things.”

I glance at the eight, bright against her skin. Powerful. But I don’t ask. “And then there are the gerent.”

“You realize that you essentially wasted your own question by answering it yourself, you know.” Rio takes a swig of water. “Gods, it’s hot. Yes. Gerents are transporters. They’re the rarest. Anything stronger than a three is even rarer.”

Telekinesis . I don’t look behind me. “And they have green eyes.”

Three tiers. Scarlet eyes, violet eyes, green eyes.

I wonder which class shimmering, swirling bronze fits into.

“They do.” Rio’s voice cools, as if he can sense where my thoughts are heading. “I answered your question. The numbers on our faces are rankings of where we sit in the Caelumnai power structure. I’m a tier six vis. Sol is a tier eight vis. And Smee here is a tier eight peristi.”

I have a hundred more questions—why they wear numbers now when they didn’t before, what maegis class a certain bronze-eyed ship captain fits into—but I bite down on them. “I see. Ask your question.”

I can see the same battle of thoughts on his face that’s probably reflected on my own, but Rio blurts his question out. “Is it true that you don’t feel any emotion?”

There’s a smacking noise, and he grunts. “ Ow, Es . What? Don’t tell me you’re not curious either.”

Staring down at the now dry deck, I twist the rock between my fingers. “Is that what people say about us? That we do not feel?”

“People say a lot of things about faeytes,” Esme murmurs. “It’s hard to discern rumor from truth when something no longer exists.”

But I exist. The unspoken words taste bitter on my tongue.

I wonder if telling themselves we felt nothing made it easier to cut us down. Is it easier to murder when the eyes looking back at you are empty? Is it still murder if there’s nothing on the other side?

My silence stretches out, but neither of them push. I sit silently while they continue working on either side of me.

When they come, my words are heavy. “I wish that were true.”

Riordan’s hands pause on the deck. “You can feel, then.”

“Yes.” I keep my eyes lowered, my response abrupt. “Ask another question if you wish.”

I have no desire to dwell on that one.

“Fair is fair.” He nudges me lightly. “Your turn.”

I choose something simpler. “Why do you wear a copper band?”

His brows fly up. “You don’t know?”

“If I knew, I wouldn’t have asked.”

At my crisp words, he holds up his hands. “Right. Sorry. It’s because of the—”

“ Riordan .”

The three of us twist to look up at the shadow that falls across the deck. Solomon scowls as he looks between us. “The rigging needs to be checked. It doesn’t take three of you to clean a damn floor.”

“Is that why you’re not helping?” I mutter under my breath as he turns away.

He hears me, though. His shoulders stiffen, but he stalks off. Esme whistles. “Were you two enemies in a previous life or something? He really doesn’t like you.”

“He doesn’t like anyone,” Rio says as if he’s confiding in me. Comforting. “Took him years to warm up to us. Don’t worry about it.”

I blink at him. “I really don’t care.”

Rio’s open smile falters. “Right. Well, I’ll go and sort the rigging out.”

Frowning, I bite the inside of my cheek as he gets to his feet, reaching down and silently snagging his canteen. My face lifts. “Wait. I still owe you a question. I asked two, but you only asked one.”

He pauses. His eyes flick to Esme, but she doesn’t look up from her work. “Can I keep it for later?”

I shrug. “Suit yourself.”

Waiting until he’s gone, I turn to Esme. Her lips are pursed as she works.

“You like things to be fair,” she notes eventually.

“I don’t like to be indebted.” I toss down the stone, done with scrubbing when I can still feel bronze eyes that are doing nothing while we kneel here in salt-crusted clothes, caked in our own sweat. “Nor do I like injustice. In any form.”

She hums. “Rio won’t forget. He’ll probably ask a hundred questions at dinner if you let him.”

Wonderful.

“Selene.” I grit my teeth at the sound of my name on his lips, even if it sounds polite enough. “We need to find you some better clothes.”

Stiffening, I ignore him. “I’m fine with what I have.”

In the silence that follows, I glance down to confirm my words. The dress made for lounging in the Murenger has not held up to a morning spent scrubbing, and my cheeks heat. “Fine.”

Esme eyes me critically. “You’re too tall for anything of mine.”

“We’ll try it anyway.” My face flames further at their assessment. Callan clears his throat and looks away as I get to my feet. “Follow me. We’ll find you something better.”

“Something better suited to hard work? Nothing of yours would suit, then.”

He stiffens as he walks ahead. For a moment, I almost regret my snapped words.

But then his laugh fills the air, and I wish they had been harsher.

“Something that will get you through all of the many, many grueling tasks I have for you before we reach Asteria. So many tasks, and so little time to complete them all.”

My irritated grunt only makes him laugh harder.