Page 45 of Stars Above the Never Sea (The Last Faeyte #1)

It surges from my hands, the muted light within this small space winking out. Only darkness remains, the harsh rasp of my breathing matching Callan’s.

His hands grip my wrists, holding me in place. “We committed many crimes. But this was not one of them. I swear it.”

“Your people hung a sister of mine from the gates.” My cheeks are wet, my throat raw and hoarse as I fling the accusation at him. “They hang there still. It’s been ten years , Callan.”

My knees threaten to send me to the floor. “Where are the rest?”

Gods, do not make me face this, too.

“Merrick knew some of what to do. He oversaw the rites as best he could. Hala accepted them into Ellas.”

His hands slide up, rubbing away the chill that has settled into my bones even as I push against him.

“We don’t know how she got there, but we believe she jumped on the night of the Shift, Selene.

Nobody noticed her appearance in all the chaos, only in the days that followed.

Nobody looked up . We did not put her there. None of us can even get that high.”

My breathing stutters. “You didn’t—”

“ No ,” he says firmly, his hands strong on me. “We’ve tried to reach her. I promise you. I tried to climb the gates myself, more than once. But none of us can even get close.”

I fight for breath. “Then your maegis—,”

“It does not work on people,” Callan says quietly. Apologetically. His grip softens. “I swear to you that this is the truth, Selene.”

And he promised me truth, on Volatus.

The Sanctum. My breathing does not steady, my whisper comes out ragged. “She… she jumped ?”

A memory. Of a hand on my cheek, of grief—and the back of a cloak, silver glinting as she turned the corner. Such immeasurable grief that one look into her eyes made me feel as though I were drowning.

I know which faeyte adorns the gates of Hala’s temple.

I sag. Arms wrap around me, the shadows still covering us. “I can’t do this.”

I haven’t even crossed the threshold of my old home before crumbling. In the dark, it’s easier to admit. “I can’t be the last of us.”

Hala has greatly misjudged me, though I would have sworn that to be impossible. It should be Nyx or Celeste sitting here. Not me. They would never be so uncertain or know so little. “I don’t understand what Hala expects of me.”

The cart pulls to a stop beneath us.

“We’re at the gates.” A hand brushes my cheek. “Your maegis, Selene.”

My hands flex, opening and closing. I try to concentrate, the shouts from outside making me flinch.

“Breathe.” His breath brushes my ear. “Take a moment.”

I force air out, and back into lungs that are too tight. Again, and again, and slowly, the shadows begin to peel back. They reveal Callan’s face, his forehead furrowed as we face each other.

When they have gone, I bury my hands beneath my armpits and look away. “There.”

“I’m sorry,” he says quietly. “For all of it.”

It’s Sol’s face that appears at the flap of the canvas. He looks between us, choosing to settle on me. “You ready?”

Hala, guide me.

I step out to more metal men, Sol gripping my hand to steady me. I can feel their stares on me as I turn to the gate. It creaks open beneath their hands, and I step through without looking up again, even as I despise myself for it.

I’ll fix this, I promise silently. I will come back for you, sister.

But not now. Not as Tobias walks up the steps with purposeful strides, as if he knows the layout of this place better than I do. We follow more slowly, and I stay beside Callan as Sol and Matthias make a show of assisting him. There’s no sign of Esme or Riordan.

I take a breath before stepping through the arched, intricate honeyed doors into the great hall.

In a punch to my gut, it looks much the same.

White expanse stretches out in front of me, the colored glass windows set into the walls still depicting the old stories.

The invaders have not bothered to change them.

But the people have changed. There are so many here, all of them gowned and garbed in jeweled colors that remind me of the birds in Terrosa, although some look more faded than others.

I sense their eyes on my face, whispers hidden behind their hands in flurried gasps of shock as I slowly walk past with Callan at my side, my back perfectly straight.

They back away, creating a natural opening to the dais ahead, and the people seated upon it.

Their chairs are not the simple ones favored by the Three, but intricate and high-backed, wooden and carved with beautiful flowers and knots.

One is much larger than the other, and I cast my eyes over the two that sit there.

The female watches me closely. She’s not smiling, but her amethyst peristi gaze is not cold.

Well-defined brows raise beneath shimmering brushed waves of auburn hair that almost reach her waist, a delicate golden circlet on her head.

She leans into the male beside her, a white, almost translucent hand appearing from the sleeve of her gold-threaded deep green gown as she gestures.

He inclines his head to listen to her murmured words but doesn’t respond.

So, this is Petyr. I study him more closely, not hiding my assessment.

An amused smile lifts the side of his thin mouth as he notes my stare.

He’s far paler than Callan, his hair almost white and cut close to his skull.

Elegant, well-kept nails tap out a rhythm against the arm of his chair as he lounges, his other hand propping up his chin as his eyes flicker over our group.

The golden circlet on his head is almost as plain as that of the female beside him, as is the linen tunic he wears.

Only the green velvet surcoat stands out, a match to his female counterpart and stitched with shimmering gold thread adorning his sleeves.

His leather boots shift against the floor as he pushes to his feet.

His eyes.

Petyr is no vis, nor peristi, nor gerent.

There is no maegis in his gaze at all. Only muddy, inritus brown, flecked with hazel specks.

Behind his chair, a shadow slides across the floor. But Petyr steps down from the dais, approaching us, and I stiffen.

He strides straight past me and throws his arms around Callan, gripping him tightly with one arm and slapping him on the back with the other. “Well met, brother. Gods, I’m pleased to see you.”

Callan snorts, pushing him back with an ease that surprises me. “You’re pleased to see Volatus , you mean.”

Petyr laughs. A deep, booming, genuine bark of amusement as he slings his arm around Callan’s shoulders once more with a grin that stretches his face. “You look to be in surprising health. I’d imagined the worst, after your delay.”

Callan holds out his bandaged arms. “Matthias worked his maegis on the ship. He’s improved his technique, it seems.”

“Well, then.” There are barely a few inches between the brothers. Callan stands just a little taller as Petyr’s hands squeeze the top of his arms above the bandages. “That’s excellent news.”

Only then does he turn to me. Petyr’s gaze starts at my feet, rising up, slowly, tangible on my skin. He walks around me silently, giving me a wide berth as he takes in my wings. “You brought something interesting back, I see. Excellent work, Cal.”

I almost flinch. Callan’s eyes flick to mine, an apology within them. “Petyr. This is Selene Amaris. She has chosen to return to Asteria. I did not force her.”

Another flurry of murmurs sweeps the hall behind us as Petyr stops in front of me, facing me head-on. His face angles as he lowers his neck. “I see. Well met, Selene Amaris. Welcome home. I cannot tell you how pleased I am that you decided to return.”

His voice rings with sincerity as his arms spread out. He turns away without waiting for my response. His back to me, Petyr speaks to the assembled crowd. “We have a most honored guest. It seems that a faeyte has at last returned to Asteria.”

The Caelumnai put their hands together, the sound of clapping rising through the open air above us. The female in the chair behind us joins in, although more sedately.

A male watches me from the shadows between the two thrones when I turn to look over my shoulder. His eyes gleam peristi, the purple glimmer catching my eye.

Aside from that, he is bland. Forgettable, in every way. Almost as if his features shift indiscernibly with every second, making it impossible to truly see him. Frowning, I glance down and back up, as if that will allow me to get his measure.

But there’s nothing. Only an empty space.

My attention is pulled away by the sound of my name. “You must be exhausted after your journey.”

Not particularly. But I nod anyway. I don’t want to be here, in this room, with these people. Some watch me with fear in their eyes, others with suspicion. Not all, though. Some have tears in their eyes.

“They believe you have come to save us.” At the soft words, my head jerks to Petyr. His head tilts once more. “Have you come to save us from our punishment, Selene Amaris?”

Callan’s eyes are on us, the chatter from the crowd covering our conversation as Petyr leans in to hear my response.

I wet my lips. “Do you deserve to be saved?”

His smile grows larger, and yet I sense coolness from him. “Perhaps that remains to be seen. I have heard many things about Hala’s faeytes. Would you be willing to offer us a demonstration?”

As his voice raises, the hall grows quiet. Eyes turn to me. “A demonstration?”

He gestures with his hand. “You read fates, do you not? An interesting talent. I would like to see it.”

My spine pulls straighter. I know better than to confess that I don’t know how. But regardless, my answer would be the same. “A reading is only done in private, and not for entertainment.”

He clicks his tongue. “Not even as a favor? A gesture of goodwill?”

Fire stokes in my stomach at his assumption. “Perhaps you should reconsider who between us is owed a gesture of goodwill.”