Page 48 of Stars Above the Never Sea (The Last Faeyte #1)

Chapter thirty

Callan

P etyr manages to find me, even though I’ve hidden myself amongst the pillars in the great hall. It’s the best place I can find to avoid intrusive questions from the dozens gathered here as I wait for Sol to escort Selene down for dinner.

I should have done it myself. But I don’t trust myself, and I don’t want to push her.

She had felt like mist and air. Delicate. Breakable, despite that core of strength that seems to appear whenever she needs it. A mixture of softness and steel that I am rapidly becoming obsessed with.

I burn with that obsession, even as I stand here with my brother heading toward me and others watching me closely as I try to at least give the impression of still feeling unwell.

Petyr passes me a glass goblet filled with wheat-colored beer. “It’s a good thing you returned when you did. Our grain supplies are non-existent. This is close to the last of the supply until we make more.”

I don’t drink from it. “Of course. We must prioritize. What could be more important than beer?”

Petyr doesn’t respond to my barb. He rarely does, not since we were children. He takes a deep drink from his own cup. “It’s been incredibly boring here without you, brother. I’ve been waiting for your return.”

I can feel the truth in his words, although I can’t see my presence improving it. I glance at the scant remains of the Boreasan nobility milling and chatting in their fancy, faded dinner outfits as the quartet across from us sets up for music on a small, raised wooden platform.

I’ve always hated the theatre Petyr demands each evening. I would have preferred to take Selene to town for dinner, but he would never have allowed it on our first night back. “I’m flattered you think so much of my company.”

Servants dart between the small, huddled groups in faded green livery decorated with the family crest, pouring drinks as others set up the long tables we use for food.

Others climb up onto ladders to light the glass lanterns that spread over our heads.

The endless murky gray sky of Asteria’s daytime light is fading beyond the open entrance doors, slowly merging with the Sea of Stars to create a blanket of darkness as night falls.

He’s smiling when I glance at him, sipping at his beer. A coy smile, one that makes me stiffen even before he speaks. “You watch our faeyte closely, I noticed. Barely took your eyes off her during our meeting. Why is that?”

My body turns to stone. “What do you mean?”

Another sip. Petyr scans the crowd in front of us. Several pause as if to speak, and he waves them on with a roll of his eyes. “Are you concerned about her motives for returning? Is she plotting something?”

“No.” I swirl the beer, make a show of sipping, even though it tastes like dirt. “She has been open about her experiences, and she has agreed to help if she can. She is being truthful.”

“If she can?” Petyr echoes incredulously. “Of course she can. She’s one of them, isn’t she? Wendlyn couldn’t get a read on her, at least not from a distance.”

My hand tightens around my glass until it threatens to break under my touch. “She’s not up for the reaping. Wendlyn has no need to involve herself.”

“Wendlyn involves herself because she does what is best for this shit excuse of a kingdom.” He’s moody tonight, the ups and downs of his temper not boding well. I had expected him to be more buoyant, given Selene’s arrival and the replenishment of our supplies. “She knows her place, as we all do.”

A sly look. “What Selene’s place will be remains to be seen, though. Someone will need to keep a very careful eye on her if she’s to be given free rein to wander.”

“She’s not a prisoner,” I snap. My temper rises. “You’ll not treat her as one if you wish for her help.”

“Of course.” My brother clicks his tongue. “But I have our people to think of. She needs to be watched, Cal. I had thought Tobias would be a good choice. Or possibly Roan. He’s already told me how eager he is to watch over her.”

Across the room, eyes the color of old blood follow us without bothering to hide it. Roan has clearly been whispering in my brother’s ear again. His tongue slithers out, caressing thin lips.

Every muscle turns to stone. “If he puts Selene at risk, he jeopardizes the future for all of us. I’ll kill him before allowing that to happen.”

Petyr has always been able to read me. At the tension in my shoulders, he laughs.

Slaps my back, his moodiness vanishing. “I see how it is. Relax, brother. I have no objection to you wooing her, or rutting her in the stables if you prefer. She’ll be far more amenable if she’s in your bed, although I can’t imagine fucking something so cold. Is it true that they don’t feel pain?”

His crass words threaten to sour and taint every thought in my head. “No. And I would prefer you didn’t speak of her like that.”

Petyr’s grin only grows wider, but his words are sharp, a warning dagger at my throat. “I can speak of her how I like. I hope you’ll at least share the good parts of Selene with the rest of us, or we’ll never get off this godforsaken island.”

I want Selene’s name out of his mouth before I plant my fist in his face. “If you want her help, you’ll treat her well. She has no reason to trust us, and we cannot blame her for it. Tell Tobias and Roan that there is no need for their involvement. Don’t forget my warning for Roan.”

The murmur that runs through the crowd, heads turning, has me straightening. “Excuse me.”

I leave his side without waiting for permission, almost shoving people aside. I lingered too long with Petyr. A male catches my arm, only to back away at my glare.

I’m just in time to catch Smee’s smug smile as she pulls the door closed. Sol looks absolutely furious, and Matthias is grinning, meaning something is afoot.

And when I allow myself to look at her—

Not a single scrap of air is left within this hall. I cannot breathe, can’t do anything but stare at Selene, gowned in moonlight and sumptuous silk that brushes against long, lithe limbs.

The dress is not like any I have seen. But it looks as though it was made for her. Made for Hala’s creature.

I want to kneel at her gods-damned bare feet and worship her, and the sensation of free-falling has me stilling, stunned at its strength.

The silk she wears is an exact match for her luminous hair, a shade between silver and white that has no name.

Her hair tumbles loosely over her shoulders, the escaped tendrils I touch every chance I can freed and curled into smooth, soft waves.

She wears no adornments. No jewelry. No shoes, even.

Only that damned dress that shimmers against her skin.

Two straps cross over her shoulders, dipping into a deep v that barely hints at what’s beneath before sweeping out against the floor like a wave.

I’m going to have to kill them all.

But it settles something in my chest when I lift my head. Because she’s looking at me with a small smile. Almost shy, as if she doesn’t outshine every single person in this hall with their gaudy-looking outfits by merely existing.

Someone shifts beside me. The male prepares to step forward, inhaling, and my hand smashes against his chest with such force that he staggers back. My low, snarled warning carries. “ Absolutely fucking not .”

I dare any of them to try. Nobody else moves as I stride forward. Sol falls back, his hand finding Matthias as I take her fingers in mine and bow low over them.

A silent urge to join this game, with all eyes watching us.

Selene moves, shifting as if to mimic my movements, and my hand tightens until she stops. I barely shake my head. A bastard son is no royal to be fawned over, and I would despise it if I was.

Besides—

Goddesses do not bow to anyone.

Least of all mortals who can’t even find the words to tell her how perfect she looks.

The silence follows us as I draw her arm through mine until it rests against my elbow. Her hand tightens, the only sign of any nerves at all. Her face is carefully neutral as she faces down the Caelumnai, lingering in the hall she grew up in.

When I don’t move, eyes of night and starlight flick my way. “What are we waiting for?”

The faint tremor in her voice makes me want to carry her away rather than have her face this. But since that’s not an option, I’ll make it so she becomes untouchable. “Let them look.”

Look at what they did. At what they cost the world, and it seems like such a great loss in this moment that unexpected grief strikes my chest at the thought of all those lights; brilliant, burning lights like the woman next to me, snuffed out beneath greed and steel.

We deserved every punishment given to us. Perhaps we still do. Atonement is not something those in front of us give much thought to, distracted as they are by scraping out what power they can from the remains of our old lives and brandishing it against each other in this farce of a court.

But it’s not only them. There are others who deserve a chance.

A clapping sound has Selene stiffening. At Petyr’s signal, his approving smile from the other side of the room, the quartet orchestra strike up their vielles and the crowd disperses into groups of animated conversation, although many still look to Selene.

In hope for redemption, or for something more carnal.

I steer her clear of Roan, leading her through the crowd with my hand curved protectively over her wings.

She’s given a wide berth, for the most part.

At the low warning snarl, I glance behind just in time to watch a male’s hand drop from attempting to brush her wings, Sol’s fingers gripping a wrist tightly enough to bruise.

Matthias smirks at me, completely at ease, while Sol scowls at everyone we pass as though if this is his deepest, darkest nightmare come to life before they peel away and head to a table.

We step up to the dais. The thrones have been removed for the night, the long table in their place set up for a banquet and allowing those of us who sit there to watch the crowd in front of us. I catch Selene assessing the layout, her brows furrowing.

Petyr is already on his feet, waiting. His arms sweep out. “Welcome. You’ll sit beside me, Selene.”

There’s a faint smirk on his face, directed my way as I lead her around the table before he holds out his hand. Reluctantly, I pass it to him, squeezing her fingers gently in reassurance.

The small power play from my brother irritates me more than I can say. But Selene only inclines her head in thanks as he pulls out her high-backed but plain chair.

Lifting the hem of her gown, she settles into the chair like a queen, her shoulders back and spine straight as her wings fold behind her. Immediately, I follow her lead, dropping into a chair on her other side in an attempt to hide her mistake.

Petyr stills. And throughout the hall—others sit too, settling into their own seats without waiting for their king as they normally would, leaving him standing alone. His lips press together before he slowly sits, his smirk replaced by a small, petulant frown.

We must be careful.