The Stars are Dying : (Nytefall: Book 1)
The Stars are Dying: Chapter 23

By nightfall on the sixth day, I wanted nothing more than to map the stars after a week of expending energy. Physical against Zathrian, and mental against Draven.

Throwing a thick cloak over my shoulders, I eased out onto the balcony. My breaths blew out around me in frosted clouds, but I savored the icy air that coated my throat. Glancing sideward, I stifled my fright at the body I saw. They could have been mistaken for dead, because why else would someone willingly lie upon the narrow flat of their balcony stone railing? But then I saw their leg swinging purposefully over the edge, carefree and very much alive.

I didn’t know if I should speak to make my presence known, too afraid it could spook them enough to tumble off the edge. At this height the fall would be fatal.

“You’ve made quick work of becoming the prince’s favorite.”

My mind painted her face before she propped herself up. Rosalind’s skin was breathtaking in the moonlight, unlike my fair tone, which had turned even more ghostly. The pink of her hair was highlighted so stunningly it had me yearning for my silver tresses.

“I wouldn’t say that,” I replied.

Rosalind propped herself up on a knee, and when her arm draped over it the glint of her blade snapped my awareness. “None of us have had private time with him. He is beautiful, I suppose,” she drawled, beginning to weave the hilt expertly through her fingers. I tried not to let her intimidation tactic get a rise out of me.

“He’s…fine.”

Fine? Really? I could have slapped a palm to my face. It wasn’t really what came to mind when I thought of Drystan, but I tried not to let him linger there for long at all.

“The tour wasn’t much. A bland show-around of an elaborate home, nothing more than a poor attempt to make us feel honored.” Rosalind’s resentment wasn’t subtle. “Perhaps the prince has been the king’s spy all along and knows more about us than we’ve been led to believe.”

My heart froze still. “Do you think that’s possible?”

“Possible, yes. Maybe knowing the competitors helps him to set us up for the game. A cheat none of us are aware of.”

My heart thawed and was now intent on racing to a speed that could kill me. I stared at the colossal silhouette of the round library building across the courtyard, trying to reel in my calm before Rosalind could detect my absolute fear at what she suspected.

Drystan had shown no suspicion…or so I thought.

Rosalind smiled, getting to her feet with feline stealth. I eyed her light footing, thinking it madness she was testing her balance now when the temperature could freeze any imperceptible drop of water. She continued right around the curve until we stood parallel, and then my neck craned to her.

Rosalind took up a side-lean against the wall. “They say Alisus is brilliant in the summer. That your father hosts the grandest celebration.”

The cold began to drift away from me under her interrogation. No—this was just idle chatter.

“He does. It’s his favorite season.”

Rosalind dropped to a catlike crouch. “We didn’t get a chance to properly meet,” she said, but I couldn’t shake the hint of a test in her words.

“You’re Rosalind.”

She huffed a dry laugh. “People tend to introduce themselves to each other, not the other way around.”

“It’s obvious we know each other’s names.”

“Cassia,” she said, drawing out the three syllables as if she were tasting each one.

I didn’t know what reaction she was waiting for as her head tilted. I couldn’t figure out what it was about her that made me want to seek some distance. She was stunning, with a delicate beauty that could easily disguise the lethal combatant I had no doubt she was.

“People call me Rose.”

I found the name wonderful and fitting with the color of her hair.

“Rose it is.”

Her eyes flexed, yet before I could try to sway the topic she straightened. “Cool trick the other day,” she said nonchalantly. “Has me wondering why you’d bother to pick up a sword at all when you clearly have no skill set there.” Hopping onto her balcony, Rose sheathed her blade.

I floundered for a response.

She kept her back to me as she said, “I thought I heard summer was celebrated so passionately in Alisus because it was your mother’s favorite season.”

My skin flushed further as she glided back inside her rooms and the lock clicked.

My mind reeled at her last words. It was a taunt intended to shake me. The kingdoms couldn’t cross over to each other. She never would have met Cassia or her family.

“So far, you’ve successfully made yourself everyone’s target.”

I whirled around in fright, choking when I found Nyte perched casually upon the stone railing.

“I can’t say I’m surprised; you do have a natural attraction to all things bad for you.”

He sat with one knee tucked up, an arm extended casually over it while his other leg dangled inside the balcony. I longed to see his amber irises, but it was likely for the best he kept them pinned to the courtyard below.

“Like you?” I said quietly.

“I wouldn’t say you have worse monsters circling, but certainly more imminent ones. You must be wary around the prince.”

“Why?”

When I blinked, Nyte was gone. Before I could scan around, I felt him behind me like the echo of a presence, never fully there.

“When he sees something he wants, he can be…persistent.”

I wanted to turn around, but instead I wandered over to the railing and braced my bare hands on it to feel the biting cold, needing something solid to reassure me whenever Nyte was around. I wanted to sway the conversation until I could judge Drystan for myself.

“You said the king had never visited the other kingdoms,” I said, trying to ignore the clenching anticipation in my stomach that I couldn’t trust Nyte.

“I didn’t say never. You were concerned he had visited in Cassia’s lifetime. Astraea—”

My name in his voice arrived as intimate as a touch, and that followed as his hand eased over mine. I inhaled when his fingers slipped into the gaps of my flattened palm. Nothing of warmth, but it tingled.

“You have to get better with words. They are of value like steel, just waiting for the right craftsman to make them as lethal as a blade.”

“I don’t know if I can trust yours,” I admitted.

Nyte came to me in shadow. Made of it. Like how the impression of his body wasn’t as firm as I expected. “Good, because they can be as devastating as heartbreak and as haunting as death should you be so open to their manipulation.”

“Are we still talking about words?”

“Every weapon needs a wielder to strike.”

I swallowed hard. Nyte certainly knew far more about the craft than me, only I couldn’t be sure why he would warn me against himself. Or perhaps he was only the demonstration.

“I haven’t trusted anyone,” I said.

“I meant what I said about the Libertatem not being the only game.”

“You didn’t warn me of the prince before. No need to start now it’s too late.”

“It’s not too late. He cannot find out who you are. You would be wise not to allow him to get close to you. He will try.” Nyte leaned away from me, and I braved a turn, staring up at the dawn in his eyes.

“He won’t find much interest. I’m sure his initial intrigue will pass quickly.”

His knuckles grazed featherlight over my cheek. “You’re wrong.”

I didn’t welcome the fluttering in my stomach, needing space but also yearning for the heat that was missing from his too-careful touch. I needed a distraction, distance.

Nyte stepped away, casting a look at Rosalind’s balcony before he turned and headed inside. I followed, closing the door behind me.

“Lock it,” Nyte said. “Always lock it.”

I heeded his words—something I should have had the self-preservation to do myself, but the sound of a lock clicking shut was something that always panicked me. With a breath I twisted it, flinching at the sound.

I unhooked my cloak as he sat on the bed, and it was then I noticed he hadn’t been dressed for the outdoors but didn’t seem to have had a reaction to the cold.

“The king believes what led to the chaos of man came down to five fatal flaws: pride, greed, envy, lust, and wrath. Every Libertatem has been structured around testing those traits to the very edge of their temptation.”

I thought on his words for a moment, trying to calculate what I could expect from such trials. None of them were areas I was confident to be tested in. “That could mean anything.”

“Yes. You see, every Selected’s game is different. Entirely personal to you.”

My pulse kicked up as I paced the floor, and I had to undo the high fastenings of my leathers.

“The Selected train their bodies for fighting and their minds for strategizing. It’s all helpful.”

“I haven’t trained at all,” I breathed, shuffling out of the tight sleeves. There was nothing graceful about the way I undressed from the garment. I strained for a tie on my corset that dug into my back but gave up with a huff.

Nyte let go of a partial amused smile. “I recall you being far more flexible than to be bested by stubborn ribbon.”

I scowled at him. “Why are you here?” Then I shook my head, wondering if I was going truly delirious as my palm cupped my forehead, which had begun to pulse. “How are you here?” I aired the question, not really expecting an answer as I scanned the room for the satchel I’d arrived with.

“I have always been here,” he said, so quietly I almost missed it.

Heading into the closet, I found my satchel at the far end. Relief flooded through me at the bottle of pills I found still inside. I took one out before heading to the dining area and filling a cup with water. Then I wiped my mouth, gathering breath. When I turned back to him, Nyte’s eyes were fixed on the glass with a hard frown, apparently contemplating something.

“I’m the weakest one here,” I said, thinking that was his observation.

“Strength isn’t only in a physical body,” he said, his voice devoid of emotion.

“I don’t have much of mind either.” I gave a laugh, but Nyte didn’t lighten up.

“Why do you do that?”

“What?”

“Underestimate yourself.”

I shrugged. “I know what I’m capable of.”

“I don’t think you do.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence, but I don’t think it’s going to win me any favor here.”

“Is it because of him?” A dark chill entered his voice, turning silver notes to black, and I looked at him, trying to figure out the nagging sensation that disrupted my mind. A gravity that pulled me toward a darkness a part of me knew I would devour given half the chance.

“I’m tired,” I said, passing him as I headed to the bedroom.

“Did you love him?”

The question at my back lingered as a concern that had haunted me before. Seconds of silence ticked by. I didn’t owe him an answer, but maybe it wasn’t even for him that I sank so deeply, wanting to figure out the answer for myself.

“Maybe I don’t know what that means,” I said vacantly. I reached behind myself again, straining for the ribbon. My fingers grazed it just as his pulled at it first.

“You do,” he said in husky murmur. “In some depth of your mind, you know exactly what it means to you.”

I pressed a hand to my chest, keeping still with the awareness the laces would loosen with every movement now. My neck inclined a fraction at his touch of my collar. He was tracing the unruly scar.

“I don’t know how many more times I can see this without knowing who is walking on borrowed time,” he mumbled darkly.

“I don’t have a name. Or a face,” I added quietly. I turned to him, losing my breath for a second at those molten eyes boring down on me before I found the imperfection on his right side. “What about you?”

I wondered if this rise like acid within me was similar to what he felt as I stared at his long scar, refraining from the desire to trail my fingers over it as though that might unlock my answer.

Nyte diverted softly. “Were you happy with him?”

I didn’t like the switch of conversation. That he would evade my question and continue prodding at something he had no right to know the answer to.

I put a step of distance between us. “Why do you care?”

“I’m merely curious.”

“Yes, I was.”

It slipped from me as a means of silencing him. And it worked, though Nyte’s silence was always that of a carefully collecting storm.

Life with Hektor had been somewhat like that. For years I’d thought his kindness was true. When my voice was gripped it was to protect me. My tether to him had a limit, and it was to save me. Then I’d learned the same hand could give the softest touch and the harshest warning.

Anger touched me, consumed me, in waves through my body, and I hadn’t felt so hot before. It didn’t belong to me…

I glanced at the bed when an air of loneliness swept in. Not a single wrinkle disturbed the sheets. No trace that Nyte had ever been here at all.

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