Page 73 of Stars Above the Never Sea (The Last Faeyte #1)

Chapter forty-six

Selene

W hen they come, it’s with ceremony, and a full guard.

Callan shifts, steadying me. “You can’t walk.”

“I can.” I will walk out there on my own two feet. My hand still holds Matthias’s, and his hold tightens as the bars swing open.

I don’t recognize the guard who enters, nor those who follow to hold our arms. But I recognize the blue tint of the metal in his hands well enough. He slips the cuffs around my wrists, tightening them to the point of pain, and then does the same to Callan.

But not Matthias.

Matthias frowns as they push us from the cell, shoving him back. “Wait—”

They ignore him. Callan and I glance at each other as the bars slam closed with a clatter behind us, sealing him inside. Matthias shouts behind us, his voice climbing higher. “You’re missing one!”

His hand bangs into the metal as he shouts again.

But I would rather he be in there than where I suspect we are going. Perhaps Callan was wrong, and Petyr does not need us after all, for whatever plan he has concocted.

I am curiously detached as we’re placed into a cart, our arms brushing together. A guard climbs in and sits opposite us, silent as we pull away. I keep my voice low, “This is not how I had imagined our end.”

“This is not the end,” Callan says just as quietly. “He’s planning something. I just don’t know what.”

It hurts to look at him. But it hurts more not to. I take in the shadows beneath his eyes, the blood spattered across golden skin. The bronze eyes, dulled beneath the weight of whatever they’ve placed on us. “I would have liked a life with you.”

It’s the closest I can get to voicing the emotion in my chest.

Callan’s eyes close. “I would tell you that I love you, Selene Amaris. But that feels a lot like giving up.”

I swallow. “I wouldn’t mind hearing it.”

The ghost of a smile plays on his lips. “You’ll hear it every day from me when we get out of this.”

I sit beside him, and I drink in his warmth, until the cart stops at the edge of the square. I catch a hint of gray beyond the canvas before hands reach inside and we’re unceremoniously yanked out, guards grabbing hold of our arms and pulling us forward.

We’re led out through a narrow path in the crowd.

I follow Callan’s steps past the hearth, toward the gallows.

The square is full of faces—more than I have ever seen, from both castle and town—all of them watching in silence.

Petyr has called everyone here to watch, it seems. The faces are a curious mixture of anger and fear, and I wonder which of the players in this particular game they’re angry at.

What lies Petyr may have told. It’s quiet enough that I can hear the scuff of my boots against the stone.

I look for any sign of Sol, of Leo, or Merrick, but they’re well hidden within the crowd, if they’re here at all.

Ryn’s horrified face catches my eye, Leesa beside him, and I attempt to force a smile.

My side burns where the arrow punctured my skin, and I glance down to see the scarlet stain spreading even through the strips of Callan’s shirt.

Petyr stands on the dais, an expressionless Wendlyn and a smiling Metallurgist on either side of him as we’re led up the steps. I look at the thick noose, swaying in the breeze, at the outline of the trap door beneath, and turn my face away.

When they separate us, Callan begins to struggle. But they pull him away from me, placing us at opposite ends of the platform and forcing us down to our knees, so we’re left staring at each other across the stage.

Petyr does not make us wait long.

“Friends.” His voice is sorrowful, and I curl my hands against the restraints as my fury grows. “I bring terrible tidings, this day. A conspiracy is afoot—one that could destroy what remains of our small town, even as we fight to cling to hope in the midst of so much darkness.”

Nyx. Celeste.

Petyr spreads his hands, gesturing to Callan. “I have discovered that my brother—my own flesh and blood—has been leading a rebellion beneath my nose. Using his position to smuggle much-needed goods out of the town, taking food from your mouths and giving it to the deserters who abandoned us.”

I watch. The smallest smile lifts Callan’s lips. The crowd doesn’t make a sound.

“He has abused our trust in him.” Petyr’s voice lowers.

“But there is hope. I believe you have been greatly misguided, brother. Others around you have unduly influenced you, and I will stamp it out. We will be close again, as we once were, and you can be by my side as we enter a new age for Boreas, for Asteria, and for the people we both want to save.”

He gestures. A thick ring glints on his finger. “Crawl. Show your penitence, and pledge your loyalty once more, and we will begin again.”

Air finally fills my lungs as I inhale. Whatever happens to me, at least Callan will survive.

But Callan doesn’t move. A flurry of whispers spread across the crowd, and Petyr’s face flickers. “I will have silence !”

Flecks of spit appear on his chin. In the uneasy silence that settles over us, Callan’s voice carries all the more clearly. “There is only one person I’ll crawl for. And it’s not you.”

His eyes shift to mine, ignoring the whispers as we lock gazes.

Breathing fails me. He steals the air from my lungs, in the same way that he stole my soul, and made it his.

He smiles at me. Fierce. Determined. Mine.

And I can’t do anything but smile back.

“For you,” he breathes. “Only for you.”

My eyes burn. And he waits. He ignores the seething male between us. His lips twitch up into a smaller, sadder smile that makes me realize—perhaps he was right all along.

I must have a heart, for I can feel it breaking.

And then—only then —does he begin to crawl, hampered by the chains that burn us both.

But not to his brother. To me.

He barely gets halfway across the stage before the guards recover. They drag him back, and Callan grins fiercely at his brother. “I will not pledge loyalty to a man who turns his people into creatures . My loyalty lies elsewhere.”

“Gag him.” Petyr snaps his fingers. “I hope that’s true, brother. We’ll shortly be testing it.”

He turns to me, and my spine straightens as I spit the angry words at him. “There will be a steep price for what you have done.”

Petyr sighs. The metal is forced into my mouth next, burning the edges of my skin as it wraps around my skull. I hear a click as it closes at the back of my head, a solid band. “So predictable. But it does make things easier.”

He raises his voice. “I sentence both of you to conscription without end.”

Callan stiffens. His eyes shift to mine.

Oh gods . The creatures. Hands clamp down on my shoulders when I begin to struggle. Callan too.

A smirk plays around Petyr’s mouth. “But a price must still be paid.”

Murmurs sweep through the crowd. My eyes flicker. Taking in Petyr’s position. The rope behind him.

My heart stops, as I hear the footsteps.

And I already know. I know , for I have seen this.

I saw it in the shadows.

Merrick walks through the crowd with his head held high. Callan begins roaring, shouting through the gag as he climbs the steps, his hands bound loosely in front of him with plain rope.

He walks directly to that trap door, his feet steady as he looks out to the crowd.

Tears burn the back of my eyes. Trickle out, as Petyr speaks once more, this time to Merrick.

“You have confessed to your role in this conspiracy, Merrick. To arranging the theft of royal goods, to assisting with the desertion of soldiers unwilling to carry out their duties. You confessed this in exchange for clemency for another.”

“Yes.” Merrick’s voice does not tremble. “It’s true.”

I close my eyes.

Matthias.

He exchanged himself for Matthias, and Matthias had remained behind.

“You know the law,” Petyr says softly. “For the crimes mentioned and your confessed guilt, I sentence you to death, Merrick Ashveil. The sentence will be carried out immediately.”

“No!”

For the first time, Merrick stumbles. Leo pushes through the crowd, his face tearstained as he races for the steps. “You can’t do that! Merrick—stop them, you have to stop them—”

Someone else darts out from the crowd. Sol grabs Leo, picking him up from the ground as Leo screams. “Get off me. Merrick !”

Tears spill down my cheeks, even as I will Sol to take him away from here. Take him.

I attempt my maegis again, only to hit that wall of nothing once more. I throw myself against it, slam phantom hands against it, but it does not move.

Callan still rages across from me. There are four men on him now, holding him, pinning his head to the floor as he roars wordlessly behind the gag for his brother. But Petyr ignores him.

And Leo keeps screaming, fighting Sol with every part of his body as the male tries to calm him, talking to him in a stream of low words that Leo ignores. “No!”

I see Merrick’s face falter. “Take him, Solomon. Please. Leo, you’re going to stay with Sol, and you will listen to him. And I—I will see you again one day. I promise. You’ll tell the stories now.”

But not here.

Leo crumples. Sol scoops him up, holding him with uncertain hands.

Sol’s face is anguished as he stares at Merrick. And then down, to the sobbing boy in his arms. Leo still fights him, his cries weakening “ I don’t want you .”

“You take care of him.” Merrick’s voice threatens to break. “You take care of my family, Solomon. You hear me?”

Leo. Leo will be the only one left.

Leo’s breathing shudders, his screams turning to sobs. Sol cups the back of his head, his eyes closing briefly before he steels himself and nods.

Before he turns, he looks at me, mouthing a single word. I know what he is asking.

I cannot mouth back, not with the metal burning my mouth.

I tilt my head toward the direction of the temple instead, the only thing I can offer, and his shoulders drop with a short nod. His eyes are wet as he turns and pushes his way through the crowd, taking a still-screaming Leo with him.

He does not look back.

I choke on the sobs in my throat, folding over.

My eyes lift almost against my will. Merrick’s eyes shine as they place the rope around his neck. Green, uniformed guards spread out around him as the murmurs of the swelling crowd grow louder. Angrier.

Petyr waves a hand. “Final words.”

Merrick looks between me and Callan. To my surprise, he addresses me first. Callan is still fighting, still screaming around the metal cutting off his words. More guards wade in to hold him down, hands gripping my shoulders as I try to push myself forward.

To do something. Anything.

Help me — help him. You have to help us.

Merrick smiles at me. A knowing, sad smile. The smile of a man facing a fate that he has known for a long time. “When you can, I’d like to be placed with your mother, Selene. With my Lucia. And know—”

His voice cuts off. My heart stops as I stare at him, my eyes widening.

Amaris , she had named me.

Lucia Amaris. Selene Amaris.

“Everything will work out as it should,” he says quietly. “Lucia was so very proud of you, Selene. As am I. To see you these last weeks has been the greatest privilege of my life.”

He inhales. “I wish that it had been longer.”

No.

I don’t look away as Merrick turns away. To Callan.

Instead, I’m staring at his features. Searching for any familiarity in what I have seen in the looking glass, but I don’t find it. His words run through my mind on a jumbled loop, faster and faster as wind whistles in my ears and my chest constricts.

Merrick is my father.

And Lucia, my mother.

Callan is sobbing. Sobbing around the gag, his eyes fixed on Merrick. He strains desperately against the restraints, the veins in his neck protruding with the effort, but the sheer number of men holding him makes it impossible for him to do more than lift his head.

“Callan,” Merrick steadies himself. “Close your eyes, lad. Go on, now.”

Callan shudders. His head lowers to the ground, his body trembling.

But I do not close my eyes. I do not turn away.

I force myself to watch, even as tears blur my vision. As the bag is placed over Merrick’s head, he stands straight and steady.

Cries echo through the crowd. A few angry shouts, before guards spread out and silence falls.

It happens just as I saw in the shadows. The male, standing quietly with his head bowed. He makes no noise. His hands do not shake.

He smiles.

The trapdoor below him opens, and my cry is caught, stolen by the metal.

Merrick falls, the snap echoing through the now silent square.

And his silhouette spins slowly against the wall behind beneath a dull, gray sky.

Merrick is dead. My father… dead.

And we are lost.