Page 49 of Stars Above the Never Sea (The Last Faeyte #1)

Chapter thirty-one

Selene

T his is not a Caelumnai dress. It’s a dress from my childhood, the same kind of dress worn by Nyx and Celeste as they had rushed out of the bedroom door for midnight ceremonies at the Sanctum.

For years, I buried myself under my covers in an attempt to hide my jealousy, only to fall asleep and wake with their arms wrapped tightly around me.

When Esme helped me into it, I felt strong. When I stepped out into the hall, I felt as though my sisters were with me.

Callan’s murmur is soft, unheard by anyone around us. “I do not believe we can be friends, you know. Not in that dress.”

My mouth twists into a flat line, the biting words hiding my hurt. “If you are so easily turned from your friends, then perhaps I am better off for it.”

Callan’s arm brushes mine, and I suppress a shiver.

He is clad in a thinner, almost silken cream tunic.

Plain, at least when compared to the finery that surrounds us, but I prefer it.

My eyes seek out the way the material shifts against burnished gold before his words draw my attention back.

“I am not so easily swayed. But friends do not wish to kiss the feet of their friends. At least, I have never wished to kiss Sol’s feet.

Hopefully, he feels the same. Yours , however?

I would crawl on broken glass to kiss those.

I would do many, many things, and that blush in your cheeks would cover you all over long before I was finished. ”

My toes curl against the cool stone floor. Thank Ellas, he can’t see them. I have no way to hide my flaming cheeks, though I take a drink from my glass to try anyway. “You should not say such things to me.”

“But I promised I would be honest.” His voice shifts from amusement to something that strokes over my skin like the silk adorning my body. “You have undone me with that dress, you know.”

“I know no such thing.” I take another sip of water, my lips twitching into the start of a smile. “It’s only a dress.”

Callan grins, almost boyishly. “I like you playing with me, Selene.”

I bite down on my growing amusement. “I do not know how to play your games.”

“And yet you seem to be learning at a remarkable pace.”

Thankfully, he sits back, taking his heat with him.

I settle back, watching the crowd in front of us chatter and laugh from their seats at four long tables that run down the hall, conversation rising over the continued music that floats around the crowd.

They seem happy enough despite their circumstances.

Many of them glance up toward us as they talk, and I wonder how many conversations I am a part of.

I catch sight of Matthias and Sol amongst the crowd at the furthest table to our left, Matthias murmuring and gesturing wildly with his hands as Sol listens, his brow furrowed.

The female that was seated in the second chair earlier approaches the table, gracefully dipping her head in response to Petyr’s greeting and murmuring an apology for her lateness. Callan’s brother turns to me. “Selene, this is Wendlyn. My fiancée.”

I nod in response to her smile. Wendlyn studies my dress, but says nothing as she settles on Petyr’s other side. He raises her hand and kisses the back.

I’m distracted by the sight of servers, carrying huge plates of steaming, freshly cooked food. Several are placed in front of us. Petyr assesses them with a critical gaze before nodding. Frowning, I glance at Callan for an explanation.

His words are abrupt, his tone clipped. “Petyr always celebrates on the first night of our return with a feast.”

More platters are carried out, a seemingly endless number. “Surely there’s a platter for each person here.”

“More, even.” He sounds grim. Callan’s voice lowers as he glances past me, to where his brother speaks quietly to Wendlyn.

“The court never goes without, but nights like this are little more than an excuse to pretend the issues we face aren’t happening.

I make sure whatever is left over is sent to the town. ”

There will be plenty. I sit quietly, assessing the crowd in front of me as they scrabble and grab for the trays, piling their plates high. When I blink, the tables waver. Replaced with lines of dark-winged faeytes, standing straight and tall as they face the doors and wait for the inevitable.

Nausea surges. And yet here I sit, amongst those who participated. They stare at me as a rarity, when I am only a rarity because of them.

What role do you wish me to play, Hala?

I had assumed to avenge my sisters, and be reunited with Nyx and Celeste in the attempt. But the punishment administered by the gods is more effective than any I could hope to deliver.

Is it enough? Am I now to save them?

There is no answer, of course. I turn my gaze inward, seeking out my maegis. It’s dormant, but it sharpens at my attention, the faint glow of the cavern in my mind brightening as if waiting for me to call upon it.

A touch on my arm calls me back. Callan has slipped a plate in front of me. “You should eat.”

My stomach twists with hunger, warring with distaste for the excess occurring around me, but I lower my head and focus on my food.

The rice is fragrant and fluffy, the meat lightly salted and soft enough to melt inside my mouth, coated with a spiced sauce.

Beside me, Callan does the same, both of us quiet amidst the growing, celebratory noise within the hall.

A bellowed shout draws our attention back to the crowd.

A shiny-headed, scarlet-eyed male on a nearby table overloads his plate, only for it to slide off and onto the floor.

He merely laughs, flicking his fingers at a waiting server to clean it up.

The green-clad male carefully scrapes it from the floor, but the Caelumnai seated beside him tips his plate and adds his own food to the floor, both of them laughing harder.

When the shadows stir, I cannot hold them back. Don’t want to, anger filling my chest at their gluttony and waste.

The shadows unfurl from my hands. I barely hear Callan’s curse, the scrape of Petyr’s chair as he jumps to his feet. The argument that breaks out over my head. The crowd in front of us does not notice as my shadows seep into the air—twisting, silent tendrils of pure darkness.

One face turns, then another. They blanch, falling silent in a wave of growing fear as tendrils of inky black creep past them.

They know what darkness moves amongst them . The thought feels like mine, and does not sound like me. The prey will always sense the predator.

My feet press into the stone as I stand.

The shadows reach the two males, still laughing uproariously even as the server scrambles back on his knees, face turning to ashen fear as the shadows wind along their body before passing over them.

They soon stop laughing, though. Shadows creep over them, slipping up to their open mouths and in .

Laughter turns to choked, horrified noises as shadow turns to solid mass, both men scrabbling fruitlessly at their necks but unable to reach the thing choking them from within.

Veins bulge, eyes popping wide with terror.

“How easily you forget the consequences of your actions.” My words are almost mild, but they carry as if on a breeze amidst the silence. “When you so openly waste the food your gods have permitted you.”

“Enough,” a voice breathes into my ear. “Enough, Selene. The lesson has been learned.”

Not yet.

“You will kill them,” the voice says again. It coaxes, stroking my wrist. “You do not wish their blood to be on your hands, Selene.”

Selene. The shadows falter.

“You have shown them,” the voice murmurs. “The point is made. Mercy will carry greater weight.”

I hesitate. And then the shadows begin to retreat, crawling from gasping, sobbing mouths and flowing back to me until the last flick of darkness vanishes.

Callan’s hand hovers as I sit back, my back ramrod straight even as I fight off a rush of dizziness. But it’s Petyr who grips my left hand tightly, raising it in the air in front of the silent, stunned crowd.

“ Behold .” He smiles at me, and there is nothing pleasant in it as his fingers twist mine.

“The power of Hala returned to us at last. Selene Amaris has travelled across the Never to save us all. To use the gifts of her goddess to destroy the Never and free us from our punishment. Witness the display of Hala’s power. Tonight, we rejoice!”

Silence again. As if nobody wants to move. My arm remains in the air, Petyr gripping it almost to the point of pain.

The solitary, enthusiastic clapping has me searching the tables ahead of us.

Matthias.

His face is tight, an unnatural grin stretching his face as he shoves an elbow into Sol’s side, until he joins in. Slowly, the applause spreads. Someone whistles, and the excitement combines with the fear in the room until the crowd is a frantic, chanting mass.

Petyr drops my arm as if it’s made of flame. He grins, lifting his arms to the adoration below us. Wendlyn stares, not clapping, her face expressionless.

“Get her out of here,” he snarls to Callan through his plastered-on smile. “Before I have her staked beside the other one on the gates. She starts work on the Never tomorrow.”

My chest grows cold. Callan pulls me up less than a second later and steers me firmly to the exit, waving stiffly to the crowd that still cheers and applauds beneath us, stamping their feet in their fervor.

Copying him, I put on what I hope is my most-convincing smile and weakly raise my hand to another exultant cheer.

I wait until the doors are closed before I let my body sag against him, my energy spent.

My head swims, and he swears. I find my cheek pressed against his warm chest, legs tucked to his side as we begin to move, Callan’s feet eating up the ground below us as he strides down the hall.

“Selene.” His voice is tight. “Stay awake.”

“I am,” I mumble. “Did I kill them?”

“Almost.” He sounds furious. “If you had, that would have ended very differently. As is it, you’ve put a target on your back. They thought you were something whimsical. Something from a story. Now they know better. They think you’re dangerous, and this game just became ten times harder for you.”

I vaguely feel him kick my door in. “I was so angry.”

“I know.” He settles me down on the bed. “I was, too. I still am, with you. You put yourself at risk and for nothing , because those people will act no differently when the sun rises tomorrow.”

His anger surrounds us, but his hands are gentle as he strokes my hair. The anger softens to something softer. “I wanted to dance with you tonight. Our games will need to wait, it seems.”

“For what?”

But if he says something else, I don’t remember.