Page 62 of Stars Above the Never Sea (The Last Faeyte #1)

Chapter thirty-eight

Callan

I do not sleep. Not for a single moment.

As the dawn light begins to creep through the windows, I glance down at her again. Selene sleeps with her cheek against my chest, over my heart, her arm sprawled over me and her hand gripping my shirt, even in sleep.

Her lower lip is a little swollen, her cheek reddened by the way I brushed my face against hers, over and over again, indulging in the feel of her, so perfect beneath me and against me that I wonder how I existed a single day without it.

It was not enough. If I needed more confirmation that she feels the same, even if she doesn’t understand it, I have it.

The shadows wrap around my wrist, as solid as silken rope. They squeeze lightly as I raise my hand. They lead directly to Selene’s palm, the faint glow of her skin still visible.

She bound herself to me in her sleep.

Sounds of the town waking around us filter through the walls by the time she stirs. I drink her in, learning the sounds she makes as she shifts, an annoyed sound coming from her throat as she buries her face in my shirt.

“Good morning,” I murmur. Her head lifts, and I’m met with rumpled masses of moonlight hair. Wide eyes, filled with stars, the sight of them bringing a smile to my lips. “How did you sleep?”

She almost frowns. “I slept well.”

Her eyes travel down. She inhales. “What is that?”

My smile grows. “I think your shadows like me.”

As if in agreement, they slip further up my arm, twisting and snaking around my skin, the brush of a feather. Selene’s eyes widen. “I did that in my sleep?”

“Mmm.” My other hand runs through her hair. “I have no complaints.”

Only that she thought I might leave her, even subconsciously. “I would very much like to kiss you again.”

A flush spreads over her face. “If you think it’s necessary.”

I do. Very much so, in fact. She breathes in as I tilt up her chin, leaning down to brush my lips over hers before she pulls back. “I haven’t cleaned my teeth.”

“Believe me when I say that not a single part of you is offensive to me. Particularly when I get to see you soft from sleep, with your hair rumpled and your lips swollen from my kisses.”

Her blush deepens. “Callan. I don’t know how to respond to that.”

She will, in time. I fully intend to coax all of her thoughts from her, one kiss at a time. One morning at a time, and I want all of them with her. My head raises at the sound of shouting from outside. It only grows, one shrill voice joined by more, and then many. “Can you pull the shadows back?”

It takes a moment before they unfurl. Reluctantly, I shift out from beneath her as Selene sits up. “What’s happening?”

I move to look out of the window. The crowd outside passes by the house, all of the grim faces moving in the same direction.

Fuck . “It’s a Reaping. Someone has emerged as Caelumnai.”

I turn on my heel, striding over and grabbing my boots. “Stay here. Promise me.”

“What’s happening?” Selene’s brow furrows. “Perhaps I could help—”

“Don’t go out there.” I shove my feet into my boots, barely lacing them before I head for the door. “Petyr’s soldiers have identified a new maegis user. They’re branding them. Stay here, and I’ll come back for you. There could be trouble.”

There is trouble. I can taste it in the air, even without the shouting, as I step outside.

I skirt around the edges of the muttering, angry crowd that has gathered, all of them focused on the stage in the corner of the square.

People push the oilskins that are easier to hide behind back from their faces, their anger heating the air until sweat prickles the back of my neck.

It feels like a tinderbox. All it needs is a spark.

The rope of the gallows is tossed up, out of the way, and a trembling girl is pinned in place on her knees on the stage, tear stains on her cheeks and her palms pressed against the floor. Blonde hair trails from an undone braid that falls down past her shoulders.

Merrick and Matthias attempt to push through the soldiers stationed in front of the dais, held back from moving any further. Matthias bellows toward the woman standing on the stage, angrier than I’ve heard him in twenty years. “She’s too damned young for this. We do not brand children, Wendlyn!”

Sol stands close by, braced and ready, watching the soldiers closely. His hand rests on his sword.

“Get away from her!” Ryn roars from where two soldiers pin him down against the ground, bucking and twisting. “She’s a gods-damned child! Get your fucking hands off her! ”

From the dais, Wendlyn watches impassively.

Her pretty black silk gown, filled with golden thread that echoes the Boreasan royal crest, stands out amongst the stark anger that surrounds us.

Her eyes flick to me as I push through. “I’m sorry.

You know the law. If she has maegis, she is considered an adult. ”

“It’s wrong!” Ryn shouts desperately. “You have it wrong! Leesa !”

Leesa hangs her head. Her quiet sobs are silent as I stop beside a still-struggling Ryn. My hand lands on his shoulder, gripping it as the soldiers eye me warily. “What happened?”

“Da,” he gasps. His face is wet with tears. “He’s in Ellas now, Callan. He went in the night, and Leesa found him. She… It's a mistake. She’s too young. Tell them, please .”

Gods. Jonas. I shift my attention to Wendlyn. “What makes you think she has maegis?”

Leesa only sobs harder. But Wendlyn? She looks empty. The all-too-familiar bruising tracks up her arms, a hideous pattern of old and new interrupted by thin linen bandages.

My anger at my brother deepens. Little wonder that she follows his orders so obediently. Wendlyn stares out at the growing, angry crowd, her words bland. As if she’s not even listening. “It was reported to us. And her eyes do not lie.”

I jump up the steps, barging past the soldiers who still hesitate when faced with my lineage. Matthias, Merrick and Sol follow, spreading out around me. The guards on the dais raise their weapons, and I feel my eyes begin to glow. “Step aside.”

They wait for Wendlyn’s nod. Crouching beside Leesa, I brush her damp hair back. I force my voice to be steady, calm, gentle. “Show me, Lees.”

She’s crying as if her heart is broken, but every noise is silent. And I know that it’s not because of this. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart. But you need to show me.”

Her head raises. Her gaze shimmers, filled with tears that slip down her cheeks without pause. But the scarlet is unmistakable, the sea-blue eyes she used to have now gone forever. Leesa drops her head again, gripping her elbows. Silent, the pretium from that single use stealing her voice.

Wendlyn steps up beside me. “She blew out every single window of her home, and both houses on either side. She is a vis maegis. A strong one, most likely.”

My hand wraps around her wrist when she reaches for Leesa. “ Don’t touch her,” I growl.

Merrick’s voice is steady behind me, even as he tries to reason with her. “This is an unusual case, Wendlyn. It was brought on by grief. You can give her time before marking her—others don’t emerge until far later.”

She stays silent for a moment. “You know the price for interfering.”

My jaw works. I know who will be forced to pay it, and it will not be me. “Merrick. Matthias—all of you, get down. Go and check on Ryn.”

“Callan…,” Matthias wavers. I can feel the glare he aims at Wendlyn, but she doesn’t respond. That strange smile she always seems to wear lingers at her mouth.

“ Now .” I shift between Wendlyn and Leesa. “This stops now. I’ll speak with Petyr. An exception will be made.”

“Or an example,” Wendlyn murmurs quietly. For my ears only. “Are you sure you wish to interfere? You know it will not be you who pays the price.”

“She’s a child,” I hiss, trying to keep my voice low as Leesa shudders. “You can’t mean to conscript her.”

That fucking army he insists on building. “Petyr needs to find a new hobby, Wendlyn. Use some of the influence you have with him and fix this.”

“That depends.” Soft tone. Harsh words, even as she ignores my frustration. “If she is a six or higher, which I expect she is, then she has nothing to fear.”

Not until the next round of conscription, at least. My breathing deepens. “Where in Ellas is your compassion?”

The Wendlyn I remember from my childhood was never cruel. That girl was enthusiastic, far too attached to my brother and his friends, delighting in the intricacies and fripperies of court—but she was not this warped version that stands before me.

My words are grim. “What happened to you?”

Amethyst eyes flicker, a flinch so small I almost miss it rippling through her at my hissed anger.

But Wendlyn only raises a slim, silk-clad shoulder, sounding almost bored.

“We all have a role to play in our own survival. Move aside, Callan. You and I both know there is nothing that can be done. Petyr will not bend on his rules, and unless you wish for her brother or your friends to swing from the rope, you’ll step away now. ”

Fury courses through me, threads lighting in my mind without conscious thought. Above us, the rope, precariously balanced on top of the beam, topples and falls. It swings between us, a silent message to reinforce Wendlyn’s warning.

Leesa looks up at it, her cheeks paling. She swipes her hands over her eyes before looking at Ryn, still screaming her name from the ground. And her shoulders straighten when she looks at me.

She points at the steps, her shoulders tightening.

“Leesa.” There is nothing I can say to her, and my own ineptitude has the wood around us creaking as I try to dampen my own maegis, tasting metal at the back of my throat. “It’s going to be alright.”

She’s trembling, but she nods. She points again, her lips moving.

Go.

Ryn roars again. “Please!”

I crouch beside Leesa. “I’m not leaving her up here. I’ll stay with her.”

When her hand creeps for mine, I grip it. I can taste metal in my mouth, but it has nothing to do with the pretium. Not this time.

“Fine.” Wendlyn steps forward. Her purple eyes begin to glow. “Hold her still, if you must stay, or it will take longer.”

A shadow strikes between us like a whip, cutting through the silence that falls. It wraps around Wendlyn’s wrist, tightening until she gasps and almost throwing her back across the dais, her feet struggling to keep their balance as she’s forced to the very end of the platform.

Other tendrils creep onto the stage, pushing back the soldiers who surge forward.

So many shadows. Dozens, hundreds, blocking Leesa from my view as the darkness swarms us, plunging us into gloom. I can’t see more than an inch in front of my face.

My eyes close as I hear her voice. Tightly controlled, filled with fury, and undeniably hers . It rings out over shocked cries from the crowd, crystal-clear. “ You will not brand her .”

My vision clears, just enough. The crowd is turning to her, inritus either backing away or staring in awe, crossing themselves at the darkness that pours from Selene’s hands.

One elder murmurs what might be a prayer, touching her fingers to her forehead. Others follow, then many. And if I knew the old ways, if my father had not banned them from Merrick’s lessons years ago, I would follow their lead in a heartbeat.

She strides to the bottom of the dais. Her eyes are pitch-black, her wings spread wide. As her eyes flicker to me, I bow my head.

Glorious. Even as fear fills my lungs. For her. Anger, too, that my own hands were tied so easily.

Sol casually steps up to take a space at her side. Matthias too. And Merrick, the three of them forming a wall between Selene and the guards who charge forward, dropping Ryn and drawing their swords.

Strands of darkness wrap around them, locking them in place as securely as if she had tied them down with rope.

Wendlyn gasps as the shadows holding her in place tighten further. Not enough to cause true pain, but a threat nonetheless. Her expression flickers—not in fear, but something approaching fascination.

Selene’s voice is pure fire, deep and echoing as she climbs the steps, addressing Wendlyn. “There is a line. And if you wish for my help, you will not cross it. There will be no branding today.”

Wendlyn’s head tilts, her words verging on curious. “Not even by order of the king?”

Selene’s voice lowers, until only those of us close enough can hear. “Asteria has no king. And I will not help those who do not deserve redemption. Decide which is more important, and decide now. His laws, or Hala’s judgment.”

Wendlyn’s eyes lower. “The choice would be obvious.”

The shadows do not move. “So you would think.”

The two women lock gazes. Wendlyn’s lips lift into a small smile, and she inclines her head. “There will be no branding today. The girl is free to go, for now.”

Selene doesn’t move. “She will be free until she reaches eighteen winters. You will not touch her before then.”

If Selene can fix the Never, Leesa will never have to face the branding at all. Ryn will have her far away by the time it becomes an issue once more, if it even continues once Petyr regains access to the outside world.

If she can’t, then it will not matter either way.

Understanding gleams in Wendlyn’s eyes. She bows her head, lower this time “Understood. I would appreciate an opportunity to speak with you privately, if you are so inclined.”

Selene’s eyes flicker to mine. The darkness softens, though her voice remains cool. “You may walk with me. Tell your men to stay back. None here will face any retribution.”

The shadows slowly curl back into her hands, pulling back and revealing stunned faces. Ryn leaps up the steps, dropping to his knees and pulling Leesa to him as she collapses forward. “I have you. Gods, Esa. It’s alright.”

Selene meets my eyes, the message between us silent as Wendlyn approaches her. Her eyes shift, the darkness withdrawing. “Let us walk, then.”