Page 30 of Stars Above the Never Sea (The Last Faeyte #1)

Chapter twenty-two

Callan

S ol pulls up a stool beside me as I swing myself into the hammock. My head barely touches the canvas before I pull myself upright with a hissed curse. At his look, I shake my head. “Just an ache.”

A pounding, stabbing ache burrows viciously into the back of my skull, accompanied by the disgusting trickle of blood flowing down my throat. Laying down is out, at least until we get back.

Gods. I rub a hand over my face, trying to rub away the exhaustion. It plucks at my arms, my legs, drags my eyelids down. The macra tea has worn off much faster than it usually does.

Sol vanishes, reappearing moments later with another canteen. “Merrick made extra. Drink up.”

Merrick sees far more than he lets on. I’m actually grateful for once, grateful that everyone is watching more than I want them to, grateful for the vile taste as I swill it down.

Sol eyes me closely. “How are you doing? And don’t lie to me.”

I consider it. More than I have allowed myself to do this last day or two. “It’s going to be bad, Sol. I’ll make it back, I’m sure of that much. Get you all back. But…”

But after that, my fate will be in Caelum’s hands. I refuse to accept that my maegis will fail me, will run dry before we reach the shore. My mind traces over the threads again. Some of them flicker.

Sol leans forward. His hand grips my knee. “Matthias worked this out before. We’ll fix it again.”

I have to smile. “He’s a stubborn bastard.”

“And so are you. A match made in Ellas. We know what to do, Callan. We’ve done it before.”

They’ll have to be quick. I have a feeling I’ll be dead before we get back to the castle. The temple, as it used to be. Selene’s temple.

Soft footsteps have Sol glancing up. “What?”

I turn. Selene stands in front of us. Her lips are almost bloodless as she stares. My eyes tighten as they sweep over her.

And then I notice the lack of stars.

Sol has little patience. “Spit it out. We’re having a discussion.”

Her eyes are bottomless pits of darkness, blending with the air around us. “I—I need water. Please.”

“Of course. Sol will fill up your canteen.” But she doesn’t seem to hear me. My eyes lower to her hands. Trembling, shaking fingers grip her wrist, and I frown at the traces of red beneath. The bandage I placed there still sits on her other wrist. “Are you alright?”

“I need to bathe. Or wash.” The words come out jagged, almost snappish. “Please.”

I still, taking her in again. Her skin, already pale, has a faint sheen of sweat over her brow. “Is it your wings? Are they hurting you?”

I haul myself to my feet. But Sol gets there first, blocking my way. His words are scathing, and Selene flinches back. “Selfish little brat. You’ve been told what he’s risking to keep this ship going. And you want a bath ? To add to the extra weight he’s already carrying because of you?”

Her black eyes wipe to a blankness that tightens my chest. Her shaking increases. “Please. I need to feel… to feel clean . I’m sorry—the mud—,”

“Solomon,” I say quietly. “Get out of the way.”

“No,” he snaps. “You’re pushing yourself too damned hard because of her. If the little spoiled faeyte wants to bathe, she’ll have to wait until we get back. My apologies if the conditions don’t meet your expectations, Selene .”

Anger surges in my chest. “That’s enough .”

But Selene stills. Her eyes fix on Solomon, devoid of stars. Devoid of any emotion at all. The trembling vanishes, replaced by a motionless stance that has even Sol unfolding his arms, staring. It’s as if she stops breathing, stops living .

When she speaks, it’s as if she’s no longer here at all. “Would you like to hear a story, Solomon?”

Irritation flickers with confusion in his stare. “We all have stories.”

“Stories are important,” she whispers.

Sol jumps back with a curse as my eyes grow wide. His hand drops to the sword at his side before my hand grips his, stopping him from pulling it. “What maegis are you casting, faeyte?”

“Be still,” I snap. Shoving him behind me, I take a step closer to her. She doesn’t see me at all. Selene’s eyes are lost to a void that I cannot see. But her hands . “Your palms are glowing, Selene.”

Nothing. She gives me nothing. The hair raises on the back of my neck.

I feel eyes on us. Hear Rio’s short curse, Esme’s hush and Leo’s whispered questions. When Merrick appears beside me, I don’t dare look away. “What in Ellas is this?”

He knows the ways of the faeytes better than any of us. But his brow is furrowed. “I’ve never seen anything like this. The palms indicate a reading is taking place. It’s a type of shadow maegis. But she’s not touching any of us.”

Shadows creep from her upturned palms in slow, unfurling movement. Sol swears behind me. “Knock her out. I don’t want my damned fate read.”

“Shut up , Sol.” Esme creeps closer, her features twisted in fascination and fear. “Selene? Can you hear us?”

Selene doesn’t move. But more shadows unfurl, spilling from her palms like ribbons. One, after the other, after the other.

“Give her some space.” Rio grabs Esme’s arm. “Don’t touch them, Smee. Leo, stay close to me.”

I reach out my hand to a slow, curling ribbon. It darts away like smoke, vanishing and reforming as it twists around my hand. The barest brush of a feather against my skin.

“The girl was in the water when the world cracked and burned.”

Selene’s low words have my eyes jerking back to her face. It sounds like her, and yet… not. Older, and yet younger , two voices entwined in a way that sends chills racing down my spine, wrapping around my throat.

The shadows explode. We all jump back, hissed curses coming from around me as they surround us. Merrick’s voice rises. “Give them space. A circle. Get back.”

We follow his instructions. Until we’re standing in silent witness to the twining, pulsing shadows, illuminated by Selene’s light. They shift and reform, until the picture grows clearer, filling the circle.

Shadowed waves churn and crash beside a tall wall. My eyes fix on the small, dark figure that stands atop it, surrounded by other, looming silhouettes. The arms spread wide as it tumbles back, off the wall, toward the waves below.

My heart stops beating.

I know this scene.

Know it as well as I know myself, only from a different perspective. I remember how she stood, defiant and tall, her chin lifted as they closed in with swords drawn.

I was not fast enough. Could not keep up with her, no matter how hard I pushed myself as I chased the faeyte through the blood-filled, screaming streets of Asteria. Determined to save one, just one of them, even if the others were lost.

I had arrived just in time to fail. To witness the fury in her face as she screamed her grief at them, her rage sending grown men shrinking back in fear before she chose the water over a sharp blade and cold hands of men who would have done worse.

I had thought that was the end of it. Had dropped to my knees, cutting them open on broken pottery, and had stared at those waves.

And then the screaming started.

Selene’s voice pierces my memory. “The water dragged her down. Weighted her, and held her close, and filled her lungs with salt to cleanse the rage that filled them, until she felt nothing at all.”

The waves churn, flip. The soldiers on the wall sweep into wisps of smoke, vanishing.

And the girl flips and tumbles, over and over again.

“The world began to scream, but the girl heard nothing. She slept, although others would have called it death. She slept for a long time, until the water turned warmer, and the chilled air softened to a baking heat.”

The ribbons gently push the shadowed girl forward.

Away from the waves, toward a city of shadow that rises up, blocking my view of the Rio and Esme opposite.

“When the girl finally awoke, buried beneath mud that threatened to choke her, there were men digging for treasure on the banks of the red lands. They dragged her free of the mud, cleared it from her mouth, and offered her a deal.”

Figures wisp into existence around the girl. My brows crease as they push her down, shadows rushing over her head. Again. And again, shadowed legs kicking in a desperation I can feel .

“When the girl refused, they pushed her back into the mud. Held her down, until it filled her. Again, and again, until she agreed to their terms. And they called it free will, as they trapped her behind stone walls and paraded her to those who could meet the price.”

A sound close to a sob comes from Esme, on the other side.

“Indenture.” At the horrified hiss, I turn. Sol steps up to stand beside me. “Slavery in its base form may be illegal in Terrosa, but the practice remains behind closed doors. They call it indentured servitude.”

“It’s just another word for the same damned thing,” Esme snaps. “But you have to agree to it, in theory. So they made her agree.”

And they bought Selene’s agreement by drowning her in the mud banks until she gave herself to them.

I had believed her dead. And she had told me earlier that she had wished for that. Had offered herself that first night, giving me her back, revealing wings bound through with gods-damned copper.

Most seem to prefer it from behind. You can hold onto my wings that way. It seems to add some sort of excitement.

“Enough,” Sol’s voice whips through the shadows. They swirl, as if responding. “I am sorry. Let her go.”

Black eyes fix on him. “I am her. And you do not give me orders .”

“Holy gods,” Riordan mutters. His fingers flick. “Back away, Sol.”

He doesn’t. He steps closer, skirting the shadows that still show the girl being pushed down into that mud, over and over again. He stops in front of her. “I’m sorry, Selene.”

Those eyes assess him. “Perhaps you would like to see how your story ends.”

A pale hand lifts. Sol flinches, but stays where he is. “I would prefer to face an unknown future than a certain end.”

The hand remains raised for a few moments longer, before it lowers. The shadows roll back, slowly, vanishing back into her palms. Slowly, the glow fades. Leaving scratched, bloodied skin behind that only stokes the anger burning in my chest higher.

For what we did to her. For what they did.

Sol catches Selene when she crumples, her eyes rolling back. He swears, swinging her up into his arms, the fragile silk of her wings crumpling under his grip. “Merrick—what do we do?”

My eyes trace her face, the translucent black lines that cover her eyelids.

She doesn’t stir as Merrick gently collects her wrist, turning it over.

His lips press into a thin line. “This is beyond my knowledge. I’ve never known a faeyte who could wield shadows as the Travelers wield flame.

It was not something ever discussed in my presence, if it was known at all. ”

Sol stares down at the marks. Seeing what I did. The scabbed, broken skin. The scars. “What do I do with her?”

“Give her to me.” I step forward immediately. And for once, he doesn’t argue.

Selene is reassuringly solid in my arms as I cradle her. I have to hold her almost flush against me to give her wings space.

Sol turns. “Rio, come with me.”

“Where are we going?” Rio hands off a quiet Leo to Esme, stepping up. Sol only shakes his head as they head to the steps.

“Her breathing is steady enough. Likely just rest.” Merrick looks at me, something unspoken in his eyes. “You’ll stay with her.”

He says the words as though it’s already a forgone conclusion, and my hands tighten. “Yes.”