Page 26 of Stars Above the Never Sea (The Last Faeyte #1)

Chapter nineteen

Selene

L eo abandons me to Callan with nothing more than a cheerful wave as he skips away. My own feet shift to follow, keeping my back to the darkness on the horizon. I’m not ready to look at it again yet, to think on the implications of what they call the Never. “I should see if I can help.”

“Wait.” The rough word strokes over my skin, leaving pebbles behind. “We have a few hours before we reach the Never. I can take that copper out for you.”

My body stills. Frowning, I look at him. A light breeze curves around us, ruffling his hair. The humor I saw a moment ago has vanished, leaving something which might be exhaustion behind in the circles beneath his eyes. “Why would you…how would you do that?”

His eyes flicker and swirl. “It’s a small thread of maegis. I can use it to nudge the copper free. It might sting a little, but you’d be free of it. As for the why…”

Callan swallows. I find myself holding my breath. “You said it hurts you.”

“Sometimes.” I study him, searching for the angle.

“Reason enough.” His hands clench at his sides. “The distraction would be welcome, in truth. These hours before crossing never go quickly. This would help.”

I don’t know why I hesitate. I should want— do want—the copper gone. “Here?”

He frowns slightly. “You should lie down. The cabin would work best.”

I run my hands over my pants, wondering if I’m imagining the sweat that prickles them. “All right, then.”

Do not be a child, Selene.

But my hands move, scratching absently at my bandage-free wrist as we turn together for the stairs. Callan nods to the others as we pass. “We’ll be back shortly.”

Turning, I catch Sol’s eyes on me before following Callan into the corridor. They’re narrowed in the now familiar glare, and this time I return it in full, lifting my chin.

I’ve done nothing to deserve his condemnation, yet I receive it anyway. I focus on that instead, on the irritation that burns the back of my throat instead of the quiet rasp of Callan’s breathing as he steps inside the cabin, holding the door open.

I don’t move. “Where do you want me?”

Callan tilts his head toward the bed. “I can’t promise this will not hurt at all. I’d rather you were somewhere… the bed would be easier.”

Move.

Move.

My steps jerk as I walk over and slowly settle myself down on my stomach. Grabbing the feathered pillow, I tuck it beneath my cheek. “Like this?”

His back vanishes into the bathroom, and I listen to the trickle of water from the jug as he washes his hands. Called words filter back to me. “How long has the copper been there?”

The remembered feel of hands pinning me in place, of bucking against the cold grip of too-tight fingers, pulls a sour taste to my mouth. My stomach roils as he steps back inside. “Around eight years, I believe.”

A muscle tics in his jaw, but Callan only nods. “May I take a look?”

Shifting over in silent agreement, the bed indents as he settles beside me. He doesn’t move as I feel his eyes studying my wings. My body stiffens more with each second the silence stretches out.

“Selene.” His voice is soft. “We can leave it.”

I shake my head, not looking back at him. “Just do it, Edgeborn.”

“You’re shaking,” he says quietly. “I don’t want to add to whatever thoughts are in your head right now.”

My cheek moves, just enough for me to glimpse his side-profile. “You cannot make them any worse. Do not think so highly of yourself.”

My words draw the ghost of a smile to his face. Callan shifts, and I press my face back into the pillow, breathing in the faint musk of what I’m learning is his preferred scent. Earthy. Almost a slight sweetness, with a hint of fresh lemon.

I focus on that, on picking apart the notes in Callan’s scent as his hands settle carefully against my spine. He runs a finger down the membrane, and I shiver. “They did not do a neat job.”

Tightly controlled fury rests in his words, a contrast to the gentle trace of his hand. I swallow. “I fought them. At every step. I am not surprised if it is messy.”

For hours, I had bucked and twisted beneath them, as thick iron needles pushed through the moonsilk and dragged the thin spool of copper thread along.

Piercing, burning, pulsing, sending my screams echoing up into the rafters of the Murenger.

And Boralas had sat beside me, feigning comfort while directing the movement of the needle to ensure I could not attempt to leave again.

Printing bruises on my hands from the strength of his grip, punishment disguised as soothing.

My throat burns as if remembering the grating cries I couldn’t stifle.

“I tried to jump from the roof. I thought that if I could not fly, then I would rather fall.”

Callan’s hands slow in their careful examination. “After surviving so much?”

“Survival becomes tiring,” I murmur into the pillow. “After a while, I wondered if it would not be easier. If I was only prolonging the inevitable. I regretted surviving at all.”

Callan moves my hair to the side, the knot I attempted this morning loosened and trailing as he nudges it out of his way. His fingers are… soft. “Perhaps you survived for a reason.”

I had thought the same. Had focused on that, on considering why I was the one to live when everyone else had fallen. “My sisters saved me that day. They pushed me outside, and they closed the door. That was when I saw you. But I do not know why.”

“Because they cared.” His hands shift lower, pressing in gentle assessment.

“No,” I say quietly. Remembering the urgency.

The intention behind every movement. The way they had pushed, and pulled, and waited for just the right moment to push me through that door.

I have studied every moment of that day so closely within my own mind that I can recall every single one of even the smallest details.

Callan pauses. “There was more to it than that. But I do not know the reason. Only that there is one.”

My fate, whatever it might be, drove them to action. To give me a chance, while they blocked the Caelumnai with their own bodies. And now it is forever hidden, for faeytes cannot read their own destiny. “Perhaps returning to Asteria will show me the why of it.”

My initial plan to try to avenge my sisters no longer feels as strong as it did. Perhaps because a punishment has already been paid in the ones the Caelumnai lost that day.

The imbalance has already been corrected by a goddess I thought had abandoned us. And now I do not know what to do.

Perhaps I might find an answer to the question that has haunted me for ten years. To why my sisters ensured that I would survive, alone, while the rest of them fell.

Callan hesitates. But all he says is, “Perhaps”.

His hands lift. “I have the path of the copper. I’ll go slowly, but the threads are deep. This will hurt, Selene. More than I had feared.”

I take a breath. Wrapping my arms around the pillow, I bury my face in it. “Do it.”

“You’ll tell me if you need me to stop.” I open my eyes to find his face close to mine. The bronze maegis twists in his eyes as I watch. Callan’s brow is furrowed in a deep frown. “Promise me.”

At my nod, he pulls back. I wait, my body tensing in silent anticipation.

It starts small. The inexplicable warmth I’m coming to associate with his gaze sweeps down my spine, resting at the very end. It grows warmer still, and I shift at the brush of something delicate. Testing. Seeking. It tickles the very base of my wings, spreading in small brushes over the silk.

I take a slow, deep breath—

Agony . My back bows beneath the white-hot poker of pain, my cry bursting out before I can stop it. The warmth disappears as I slump, gasping, my fingers twisting in the pillow.

Warm fingers— Callan’s hands—grip my hand, pulling it free. “Breathe, Selene. Look at me.”

I shake my head, sobs building in my throat. Another wave of agony rips down my back, and I arch up, my throat opening on a silent scream.

He’s there. He’s right there with me, his eyes on mine as he grips my hand tightly. My face crumples, and he sees. “You’re going to be free of this. Of them. You’re doing this, and you’ll have your wings back.”

My wings.

The words croak as I force them out. “I don’t even know how to use them, Edgeborn.”

Another first stolen. That first, moonlit flight from the Sanctum, with my sisters beside me. The pinnacle of an Ascension ceremony that did not happen.

I have had so many firsts taken.

And when I tried to take this first back, alone beneath the burning Terrosan sun, determined to fly or die trying, my wings refused to open. The silk curves did not beat.

Three feet, perhaps. Maybe even four, before I fell, tumbling with a scream that brought others running to see the commotion.

Boralas’s men had found me, bruised and bloodied and somehow still breathing in the courtyard of the Murenger.

He had dragged me back inside by my hair and made sure that I would never attempt it again.

Weighed me down with copper in my wings, copper around my ankle, and ensured that I would feel the pain of my choices with every breath I took for the next eight years.

I had reached for a single moment, tried to take back something of what they had stolen, and I failed.

“I tried.” I whisper the confession as the pain recedes, just for a moment. “And I failed. They won.”

Callan takes a breath. We stare at each other.

I close my eyes as his other hand lifts, rests in my hair.

He runs his fingers through it, gruff words filtering through the lingering pain.

“Then you will try again. Perhaps you’ll fail again.

But you do not stop trying, or they win.

As long as you keep fighting, the battle is undecided.

This battle is not won yet. But it is not lost, either. ”

His eyes don’t leave mine as movement comes from behind me. “Out. We’ll be up in a while.”

“We heard screaming, Callan. What in Ellas’s name are you doing to her?” Stomping footsteps. Esme crouches, her eyes widening as she takes in my face. It feels wet. “Gods, Selene. Are you alright?”

Callan shifts back, whatever lingered between us a moment before broken as his fingers slip from mine. “I’m taking the copper out. If you won’t leave, stay with her. I need to get the threads out from around the membranes.”

“Obviously I’ll stay,” Esme snaps. She takes my empty hand, her fingers cool. “You should have told me. I would have come with you.”

I look for Callan. But then I realize she’s talking to me. “Why would you do that?”

“To help, if I can.” Her brows dig together. “I’m pissed at Callan that he didn’t tell me you were doing this. You don’t have to do it on your own.”

“She’s not alone, Esmeray ,” Callan snaps from somewhere above my head. “What am I, Boreasan moss?”

Esme rolls her eyes at me. But her eyes glitter with something I can’t read. “Two is better than one. Concentrate, Cal. You can’t afford to use too much maegis.”

“It’s barely anything.” He sounds exasperated. “I’m fine.”

The look on Esme’s face makes me wonder how true that is. My stomach roils once more. It only grows with Callan’s next words. “Selene, are you ready? It won’t take long.”

Esme’s grip tightens, but she says nothing.

I take a breath. “Go.”

And then there is screaming into the pillow, and pain lancing through my wings as Callan’s maegis eases the copper free of my body, unspooling it and tugging it loose.

But there is also Esme’s hand, wrapping around mine. Cool hands on my face, words in my ear, coaxing, soothing.

And Callan’s voice, steady and unyielding. “It’s done.”

Exhausted, sweat soaking my brow, the bed, I slump down, my face buried in the pillow as I suck in shaky breaths. “It’s over?”

Esme squeezes my hands. “It’s gone, Selene. It’s out.”

Cupped hands appear in my hazy vision. I look at the endless shimmering threads, crushed in Callan’s hands. There’s so much more than I thought. Not a single thread, but many – enough to fill both of his cupped palms. No wonder it felt like eternity. “Your hands—”

“Doesn’t matter,” he says, brushing off the reddening of his skin even as I watch, the copper reacting to the maegis that fills his eyes. The bronze gleams, almost gold. Lighter. “You need to see this. It’s all gone, Selene. Every bit of it.”

He’s sweating too. His dark hair is soaked at the front, the deep circles beneath his eyes more pronounced. As if this was not a small thing at all, that he has done for me, no matter what he tried to claim otherwise.

But he grins at me as if none of that matters. “You’re going to fly.”

I stare at that copper again. I stare until it blurs. He doesn’t move. “You’re hurting your hands. Stop—throw it away.”

Callan tosses it aside.

“You’re going to fly ,” he says again. Esme glances between us, but he’s not looking at her.

He’s looking at me, his eyes bright. “You won, Selene. And you will win again.”

And this time, the smile I offer is his. Small, but I offer it anyway, for it belongs to him for the gift he has just given me. For returning something that was taken.

My eyes burn, my wings ache, but the smile stays. “Thank you.”