Page 21 of Stars Above the Never Sea (The Last Faeyte #1)

Chapter fourteen

Selene

I hold off for as long as I can. My arms are reddened and raw when I finally edge my way out of the bathroom. Callan yawns obnoxiously from where he waits beside the door. “Thank Caelum for that. I thought you’d decided to jump out of the…”

His voice trails off, and I grit my jaw. Even the skin I haven’t scrubbed feels as though it’s flushing. “Say nothing.”

He doesn’t. He… stares.

“Stop looking ,” I snap. “She’s much shorter than me.”

“Clearly.” The word sounds choked. “That’s not going to work.”

I try to breathe. Except I can’t, because the worn, soft-looking leather pants Esme passed me through a crack in the bathroom door are cutting off my gods-damned circulation. “Do you always state the obvious?”

He’s definitely laughing at me. His cheeks are darkened as he presses his lips together, his eyes sweeping over my top. Or what’s left of it after tearing it almost to strips to wind around my body. My hands reach up in a useless attempt to cover myself.

“I have wings ,” I snap. “I had to make do.”

Callan’s jaw works as he swallows, ducking past me. “Then I’ll find you something of mine. My apologies for any distress that may cause.”

Not for the first time, I silently curse Boralas for his clothing preferences.

If he’d chosen anything other than wisps of gauze, I could have scrubbed them and worn them again instead of the material almost disintegrating in my hands when I tried, forcing me to call the far-too-smug bronze eejit for help.

“The top was too small,” I mutter, wrapping my hands over my stomach. “I had to improvise.”

“Ingenious.” His voice is muffled, Callan’s head buried in a chest at the bottom of his bed as he rummages through it. “You have a calling for fashion, it seems.”

The careless words stoke the ever-present burning embers of anger low in my stomach. “I have no Calling .”

His head raises. Callan eyes me as he pulls out a patched white shirt. Tugging a knife from his waist, he flips the material and drags the knife through the back of it in a deep slash to make a space for my bound wings, his eyes flicking over my body in quick assessment. “What does that mean?”

He doesn’t even know.

My chest tightens. “Faeytes receive their Calling when they reach adulthood. There is a ceremony, where we are blessed by Hala. We call it the Ascension.”

He nods slowly, getting to his feet and holding out the shirt. “We used to have something similar when we received our own maegis , if Caelum deemed us blessed. This should fit you better. We can make the slits bigger if needed. I can call Esme if you need help.”

I reach for the shirt, but he doesn’t let go. He tugs it, until I’m forced to step closer or let go. “You’re angry with me. Why?”

My eyes lift to his. My pulse thuds heavily inside my ears as my voice rises. “I never received my Calling, you know. Your people slaughtered mine on the day I was supposed to receive it. Perhaps it was fashion, although Hala was not so frivolous. I will never know.”

His hand drops as if the shirt was made of flames. “Selene—”

I whirl and then stride back into the bathroom, gripping the shirt tightly. The door slams closed behind me.

From the bedroom, I hear a muttered curse.

***

An hour later, I follow a still-silent Callan up onto the deck. He said nothing about the wait when I walked back out, only striding from the bedroom without a word. His silent irritation fuels my own, my bare feet slapping against sun-warmed wood as I stalk after him.

Twisting my head toward the open area they use for eating, I catch a hint of something musky, almost spiced.

Callan’s scent is built into his shirt, and I swallow the unexpected irritation at the thought.

Instead, I escape his brooding presence entirely and move to Esme’s side on the other side of the hearth.

She doesn’t look up, the hissed whispers reaching me a moment too late for me to gracefully withdraw.

I pause mid-step. “I’m sorry. I’m interrupting.”

Rio tears his eyes from Esme’s, his lips down before he lifts them in an approximation of a smile. “We were done, it seems.”

“Yes,” she says tightly. “We were. Sit down, Selene.”

Unsure, I glance between them again before sitting on Esme’s other side and stare at the small, square stone hearth. Iron bars hang over it, the visible glow of burning wood beneath erasing Callan’s scent with the trails of smoke that wisp into the air above us before vanishing.

I suppose there’s little risk of fire surrounded by the water, with two vis on board.

Callan throws himself down onto a stool across from me on the other side, pointedly looking away from us. Merrick glances between us both, his brows creasing before he leans forward to stir a bubbling pot that hangs from the iron.

There’s no sign of Solomon or the boy at all.

I offer Esme a small smile of apology. “I couldn’t make the top fit. But the pants are comfortable. Thank you.”

Only a small lie. I bite down to hide my wince as I shift in the far-too-tight trousers. Esme purses her lips as I struggle, her eyes narrowing in focus. “Callan’s boots didn’t fit you either?”

I look down to my bare toes, curling them against the wood. “No. But it’s fine. I’m more used to not wearing shoes.”

“Esmeray.” Rio snaps her name. “See? It’s fine. She’s fine.”

Frowning, I look between them again. Esme turns over the length of animal hide in her hands. She holds it up to show me. “We had some rolls for clothing in the cargo bay. Callan said I could use some of it.”

Confusion knots my brow. “For what?”

Rio says nothing, but his eyes tighten at the corners. Esme moves her hand to her wrist, pulling something off and tossing it at him. He snatches it from mid-air, still scowling.

A copper bangle. Beneath it, her skin is crisscrossed with deep red stripes. Scars.

I put the pieces together a moment too late. “ Wait —”

Her eyes are glowing. Flaring, the violet spinning and swirling as she runs the material through her fingers.

Esme’s lips don’t move. But her hands keep moving, shifting.

Molding, I realize. I stay completely still, barely breathing as the leather shifts in her hands, taking shape.

Maegis. Caelumnai maegis. I can almost taste the power on my tongue, crackling and alive in a way I wouldn’t have expected. Around me, everyone is still.

It doesn’t take long. A minute. Maybe less. Esme’s eyes soften once more, her hands dropping to her lap. And in them is a pair of trousers, and a pair of soft-looking, buttery leather boots, as well-crafted as any I have seen elsewhere.

Rio doesn’t pause. He drops down to his knees beside her, cradling her head as it lolls. The clothing falls to the floor. “Smee. Talk to me, you eejit.”

Callan is beside me. I didn’t see him move as he shoulders between us. “Esmeray?”

Her eyes flutter. Rio swears softly, his hands wrapping around her as he lifts her up. “Cal—help me.”

Callan is already pushing the stools back, making space for Rio to settle on the floor. He cradles Esme against his chest, running his hand over her cropped hair. “Talk to me, Es.”

I step back. And I realize my hands are shaking. “What—what is this? What’s wrong with her?”

Merrick’s low voice startles me. “It’s the pretium.”

The older male stands at my elbow. He sighs. “She’ll be well enough in a minute.”

But Rio’s face suggests otherwise.

My heart thuds against my ribs, almost painfully. “What is the pretium?”

“The cost,” Rio murmurs. He doesn’t look at me, his hands still cupping Esme’s face with a tenderness I didn’t expect. “There is always a cost.”

A cost. I glance down to the copper bangle, discarded on the floor.

A cost to be paid. For the maegis. For a pair of boots, and a set of trousers. My head begins to shake. “Why did she do that?”

None of them answer. My chest tightens further. “What is this cost?”

Callan turns to me. His eyes swirl, as if alive with maegis. “For the peristi, it is a memory.”

The air grows thin. My words come out strangled. “She will lose a… memory ?”

“The curse of the peristi,” Merrick says softly.

“Each use steals a memory from them. Some are small. Others are more important. For a use like this, it would likely be something relatively unimportant. Perhaps slightly frustrating when knowledge becomes out of reach. Something you knew instinctively how to do just yesterday becomes a brand-new skill.”

“We think,” Rio mutters. He stares down at Esme. “We hope. Come on, Es.”

It still feels as though I can’t breathe. “That’s why you wear copper? Caelum punishes you for using something he gifted you?”

I had no idea the sky god punished his people for using their maegis.

“It was not always this way.” Callan gets to his feet, frowning. “It began on the day of the Shift.”

I stare between them all wildly. “And all of you are affected by this? Your maegis steals your memories?”

“It’s different for each of the three.” Merrick folds his arms.

I cannot fathom it. Cannot fathom choosing to give up something so irreplaceable to create a pair of boots for a stranger. My heart thumps inside my chest. She’s so still.

I find myself kneeling beside Esme. “I’m so sorry.”

Rio glances at me. His head shakes, the tightness in his face softening. “You owe no apology. She wanted to do this. Even though I strongly advised against it, I might add.”

“We all did.” Callan sighs. “But Esmeray is stubborn.”

“Never listens,” Rio grits out. “Stubborn as a mule.”

“Two mules.” Callan’s lip is lifted when I look up, confused. “Maybe she’ll forget how stubborn she is.”

A low hiss comes from below me, and the knot in my throat loosens, allowing me to breathe more steadily. Esme’s eyes are open, if narrowed. “You’re giving me a headache with your flapping. I’m fine. Get off me.”

“No,” Rio snaps. “You’re insufferable. Tell me your name.”

“Esme.”

“Close enough. How did we meet?”

Panic crosses his face when she hesitates. He tosses the questions at her, so many questions, one after the other as if they’ve done this a hundred times.

“They can’t always find it,” Merrick says softly. I turn to where he stands at my shoulder. The older male meets my eyes. “The possibilities are endless. But Rio persists, every time.”

“Where are the tunnels?” Rio breathes. His eyes flicker to me and away.

In his arms, Esme frowns again. Opens her mouth. “I…”

Callan isn’t smiling anymore. “Smee? The tunnels. Think about it.”

A crinkle appears between her brows. “I don’t… what?”

Rio presses his lips together, eyes squeezing closed for a second before they open again, something between relief and fear settling in. He takes a deep breath. “That’s the one, then. Could be worse.”

Behind me, Merrick’s sigh of relief brushes past my cheek. “Thank the gods.”

“It’s fixable, at least.” Callan holds out his hand, but his words are gentler than I’ve ever heard. “Walk it off, Smee. We found it.”

Esme grabs it, letting him haul her upright with Rio’s help. He scrambles up, hovering next to her as she bends down to pick up the abandoned clothes.

She holds them out to me. “Here.”

I feel more unsteady than she looks. “Why would you do that? When it costs you so much?”

Esme swipes at the faint sheen glistening on her brow. “You’ll need boots in Asteria. If not me, it would have been another peristi. And this was something I could do. It felt only fair.”

Our eyes meet.

“I cannot change what happened to you.” Her voice drops. “But I could do this. It’s just some clothes, Selene. Take them.”

But it’s not. It’s there in the panic that still lingers in Rio’s eyes, in the way Callan steps closer in case she falls, and in Merrick’s worried fussing behind me as he hands her a flagon of water.

Memories are the most precious thing I own – the only thing. And she gave one up, so that I could have clothes that would fit.

I reach for the trousers, the boots. “Thank you.”

Her smile is soft. Then Rio is steering her away, wrapping his arm around her shoulders and walking with her down the deck as I stare after them.

“She really will be fine. The pretium can make you unsteady. She just needs to walk it off.”

I don’t look up at the sound of his voice. I am too unsteady to spar with him. And far too unbalanced to respond to the softness in his words.

Nodding, I hold up the clothing and slip past. “I’ll get changed.”