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“Again.”
Nearly broken and slick with sweat, I brush the hair out of my face and bring my hands before me once more. Muttering the same old incantations beneath my breath, ribbons of shadows and smoke begin to conjure at the center of the lair and take the shape of a serpent. Mona barely glances at me, focused on the iridescent liquid bubbling at the pit of her cauldron.
My heart races as the serpent slithers around the room, outstretched fingers guiding its direction as it begins to wrap around Mona’s legs. She pays no mind, adding a sprig of rosemary to her concoction as the shadows fight to keep her immobile. With a frustrated yank, I pull the serpent away from her and the shadows dissipate in a cloud of mist.
“Better,” is all she says, setting her ladle aside and turning back to me. Her aged eyes meet mine, lined with kohl and feline. She glides across the room, grasping my hands in hers with what I convince myself is desperation. “You must continue to hone your Evol.”
My ‘Evol’. What a funny way to refer to dark magic.
The very same dark magic that was not a gift granted at birth, but learned over time. The same that was outlawed in Philos and considered unruly, barbaric.
“I will,” I promise halfheartedly, exhaustion bleeding through my tone. Falling into the wide velvet armchair at the corner of the lair, I trace patterns on the purple fabric with a sigh. “I’m quite nervous, if I’m being honest.”
“It’s natural,” Mona replies, returning to the overflowing cauldron. “But the cause is much greater than you, or myself, or any single one of us.” She conjures a ribbon of shadow around the base of the cauldron, preventing the flow of the potion she’d been brewing from spilling over into the rest of the lair. “You must do this for all of the oppressed, for all of the broken.”
“How poetic,” I scoff, never particularly sold by the unnecessary eloquence of the coven.
“Continue like that, and another set of parents will perish at the hands of the king like your own.”
Within a split second, I thrust an enraged flurry of shadows at Mona to engulf her when she raises a hand, the invisible barrier causing them to melt into thin air. She simply laughs at my outburst, the sound haughty and condescending. I roll my eyes, pressing fingers to my temple.
“You better control those little outbursts of yours when you enter the castle.”
“Fine.” Thoughts of roaming the castle halls, what the innards must look like, and who I might encounter flood my mind. It was all a part of Mona’s grand scheme as leader of the coven. With dark magic a dying, illegal practice, and the rise of pressure on the king to banish all impure Evols, it was necessary to take it upon ourselves to infiltrate the castle and convince them otherwise.
Or, more delicately put, murder the king.
The same king that had ordered the execution of my parents just light of a decade ago, for harboring children of the witches’ coven. Heaven forbid a child go without starving or shelter. The witches were kind in return, recognizing that I’d not been gifted with an Evol and adopting me as their own.
Mona was cruel, but she cared. She knew we needed to survive.
“Be cautious, my child,” she says in a softer tone as she places the vial of deep amethyst liquid in my hands. She was smart in ensuring we slowly poisoned the king. A dagger to the heart was too flashy, too obvious. Slow and steady would send him to his deathbed all the same without suspicion. I nod once, securing it in my satchel and returning to my own cottage at the far end of the woods.
We lived just outside of the town square, deep enough into the forest beyond village borders but close enough to be civil with the commonfolk. Many of us held jobs in the village, as seamstresses or farmhands—or otherwise. I had an uncanny ability to read and chart the stars, something my father loved to show me when I was a child and I’d grown to love on my own.
The crown quickly learned of this, of my telling fortunes for coin and charting the planets for agriculture and trade. Farmers awaited my predictions, of high-yield seasons to come and poor times for marriages. Truthfully, a good majority of my predictions were based on my reading people’s behavior, the way they’d whisper amongst themselves and their body language.
But, if blaming the stars and the skies brought them some sense of peace and money in my pocket, who would I be to deny them such a valuable service?
My cottage was warm by the time I entered, a fire roaring at its center and both black cats settled in their usual nest of blankets before it. I lower onto my haunches, stroking their heads gently as they snored against one another.
“Tomorrow is the day, my loves,” I whisper, scratching behind Atlas’ ear as Ayla rolled beside him. “Daphne will take great care of you while I’m gone.”
Mona had arranged for Daphne to care for my home while I was at the palace, an unusual gesture of kindness. Though, I suppose it would be the bare minimum to do if I were staying at the castle with the possibility of being hanged around every corner.
I spend the night packing, humming along to the sounds of the gramophone in my drawing room and ensuring that the vial of poison is particularly tucked away within my robes. Stacks of hand-drawn maps and books on astrology are next, along with pieces of moonstone and amethyst. The last is the silver locket given to me by my mother, carved in the shape of a crescent moon.
Setting the luggage beside the front door, I douse the fire and settle onto my armchair for another sleepless night.
* * *
The royal escort finds me in the town square the next morning, garnering attention from passers-by and merchants as I hand off my bags and follow them into the gilded carriage. The crowd speculates my assignment to the castle in a flurry of rumors, some assuming I was being recruited to find a match for the prince and others speculating in hushed whispers that the king was ill.
I ignore them, offering a gentle smile and drawing the curtains shut as I stare back nervously at the advisor that had been sent to receive me. His expression is stoic, his white hair nearly the same shade as the silver jewels that adorn his frock coat and the metal of his blade. He stares at me wordlessly, refusing to return my smile as I narrow my eyebrows at him in confusion.
“You catch more flies with honey than vinegar, you know,” I tout, crossing my arms and glaring at the drawn shades. The carriage rocks as we pull away from the town square, along the incline towards the castle at the top of the hill. He still refuses to answer, his expression unreadable. I forfeit trying to make conversation with him and recite the lines of my façade in my head a thousand times over before we pull through the towering gold and silver gates that isolate the castle from the commonfolk below.
A pair of handmaids take my luggage to a different end of the castle as the haughty advisor directs me to the throne room, through a winding series of marbled pillars and hallways that lead to tall, golden doors. He enters first, announcing my full name in my arrival and gesturing for the guards to pry open both doors so that I could enter.
I move slowly across the navy and gold rugs, the only pop of color in an otherwise bare white marble room. The king sits at the end, his gray eyes fixed on mine as I stand before him. I press my hands together and bow before him, the sleeves of my indigo robes billowing over my wrists as I straighten. He nods his head in approval, the doors shutting behind me ever so slowly until the room is silenced.
“His Majesty, King Alaric of Philos.”
“I have heard much of you, child,” he begins, aged hands grasping the carved arms of his throne. His gaze is cold, soulless—much like I’d imagined. My heart pounds against my ribcage, his voice barely audible as I pray to the spirits that he’s not so observant to recognize whose child I was. “The village speaks highly of your abilities.”
“It is thanks to my Evol, Your Majesty.” The forged script rolls of my tongue naturally, just as I’d practiced. “Asterokinesis has proven to be fruitful for the people of Philos.”
“It is a gift of the most high,” he commends, gesturing a hand to the heavens. I fight to stop myself from rolling my eyes. “The power to read and manipulate the energies of the stars is incredibly powerful. I appreciate your … willingness to serve the crown in its higher purpose.”
Willingness, coercion—they all mean the same in this castle, it seems.
“I assume Alexander has explained your duties?” he asks, gesturing to the grouch that had led me into the castle and away from the village. I glance back at him, his steely gaze lifted to the king as he nods once.
“That’s the most I’ve gotten out of him thus far,” I scoff, turning back to the king as he surprisingly laughs at my comment. “I look forward to charting on your behalf—for the future of Philos and beyond.”
“Excellent,” he replies, his tone finite as he lifts himself from the throne. “See to it that you are comfortable during your stay. I expect regular reports on your progress documenting this exceptional power of yours.”
He disappears into a corner of the room, through a different pathway from which I’d entered. The guards around me blink in silence, offering no sign that I was dismissed. With a frustrated sigh, I bow before the throne once more and turn to exit the room.
* * *
The handmaids instructed me that my chambers were not yet ready, leaving me to roam the halls of the castle and grow accustomed to my new home for the next several months. The sun has set, streaks of maroon and ruby across the skies as night crawls over its light in a burst of stars and moonlight.
I find myself in a garden at the far end of the palace grounds, bushels of cosmos and hyacinth sprawling across walls covered in vines and moss. A vast fountain sits at its center, carved out of glittering moonstone and aged marble. Sitting at its edge, I glance at my reflection in the water surrounded by the stars above. I lower a hand into the water, ripples dancing around the silver cuffs at my wrists as I hum gently. The water settles, and a foreign figure stares back at me through his reflection.
I gasp in surprise, turned and ready to unsheathe the dagger strapped to my thigh when the man throws his hands up in surrender. He blinks back at me, seemingly startled by my reaction. There’s a hint of amusement on his face, his blue-gray eyes dancing under starlight.
“I mean no harm,” he promises, and I remove my hand from my dagger.
He’s much taller than me, slim but built. His hair is a peculiar shade of silver and blonde, falling in wisps over his eyes. His uniform is different from that of the other royal guards, who were traditionally clad in navy and gold. His suit was well-fitted, tailored perfectly to him and layered in fabrics of silk and wool. My eyes flicker to the crest pinned to his lapel, and I swallow when I realize who was standing before me.
“Prince Xavier,” I stammer, curtsying to lower my head before him.
“Were the formalities not warranted for when you were about to pull out your dagger upon me?” he asks, and I’m almost afraid to laugh along with him.
“I—You can never be too cautious,” I retort, crossing my arms over my chest as I continue to drink in his features. I’d never seen the prince in person before, though I’d heard countless rumors that he was handsome, painfully so.
I’d say the rumors were true.
“Understandable, but you are in the most secure location on Philos,” Xavier offers, reaching to uncross my arms and place them at my sides. “Calm down.”
“I haven’t been in the most secure location on Philos before today, Your Grace,” I bite back, struggling to hide the edge in my voice. “You’d forgive me if you consider how disreputable the commoners’ villages are compared to behind these gilded gates.”
“Fair,” he surrenders, though I notice the way his jaw tightens at my comment. “So, I take it you are the mystery astrologer that has been tasked to help my father in his expansion of Philos?”
“The very same. I live and breathe to serve the king.”
“Such enthusiasm,” he chuckles, detecting the sarcasm in my voice and I finally loosen a little at the sound of his laugh. “I’m sorry for sneaking up on you. I don’t get to spend much time outside of the castle, so I was quite excited to know there would be someone my own age here.”
“Are there not young handmaidens in the castle?”
“Well, yes, but—”
“I suppose you don’t spend much time with them beyond giving orders,” I conclude, and the shame that flushes his cheeks confirms my suspicions. The wind that begins to pick up barely tousles his perfectly styled hair or the circlet that sits upon it. “Forgive me if I overstep. It’s been a long day.”
“Also understandable.” Xavier’s eyes trail over what feels like every inch of me, returning to mine with newfound kindness. “Well, let me not keep you from an evening of solitude.” He bows his head gracefully, with the kind of grace only a royal possessed. “My lady.”
With that, he turns on his heel and disappears into the halls of the castle as I stare after him.
* * *
The room I’d been assigned sat not far from the gardens, on the third floor where I could see out towards the horizons of Philos. Sunlight peeks through sheer linen curtains, reminding me that the world was awakening when I’d just barely been falling asleep. I look down at the atlas and charts before me, notes scribbled by quill and ink across the pages of my worn leather-bound journal. If it were difficult for me to get a good night’s sleep on a regular basis, last night was no exception coupled with the nerves of my first day of serving the king.
“All right,” I sigh, stretching my hands high above my head. Glancing over at my luggage, I narrow my eyes at the way I’d found my clothes disheveled and rummaged through. Little did the guards realize that a witch’s hands were nimble and that hiding dark magic in the seams of her trunk, no matter how closely they searched.
A bang on the bedroom doors force me to jump, about to reach for my dagger on the bedside table when the guard’s voice carries into the room.
“His Majesty has provided a list of tasks for you,” he calls, and I roll my eyes. “You will report to the library promptly after breakfast.”
“Understood,” I call back, fighting against the urge to follow up with a snarky remark. I turn back to my luggage, the pile of robes and silks I’d brought along catching my eye. Settling on a royal blue and silver specked robe, I draw a bath with oils of eucalyptus and sage in an effort to focus.
When I enter the library, my jaw nearly drops to the floor.
A spiral staircase sits at its center, mirroring the marble and gold of the rest of the castle. Surrounding it is towers of bookcases, each lined with hundreds of novels, records, and spirit knows all else. The staircase leads to a balcony that houses a telescope and sundial, a pairing made for an expert stargazer. Upon entry, the guards instructed that I map the coordinates of the castle in relation to the rest of Philos, and map what direction the royal guard should follow in military operations.
For all I know, I could toss a coin and they’d believe my answer.
I follow their orders nimbly, scaling the staircase with my satchel and settling into a corner of the outlook with the maps I’d brought along. Scattering them across the marble floor beneath me, I pull out the notes I’d jotted and begin to study them extensively. Even if it were for show—it still needed to be convincing, did it not?
Hours pass as the sun crawls across the sky towards the west. Around me were pages of notes with the coordinates based on weather patterns in Philos, ones that the military could loosely follow while I worked on whatever other awful tasks the king would arrange. Arranging them into a stack, I tuck them into the folds of my journal before opting to descend the staircase for a short break.
The library was quiet, only the sounds of my sandals against the floors echoing amongst the bookcases. My fingers trail over hardcovers and paperbacks, selecting a handful to skim over stories of past nobles and the records of how Philos came to be.
And it was on the seven-hundredth and twenty-ninth day of the Great War that the dark magic was ousted by His Highest Majesty, King Alaric—Guardian of Philos and Beyond.
Slamming the records shut, I can’t help but roll my eyes at the way the king pat himself on the back for the mistreatment of those that were nothing short of different. Just as I’m about to set the book back in its place, a pair of blue-gray eyes meet mine through the shelves and I yelp in surprise.
As I return a book, a chuckle rounds the corner and Xavier stands before me. He wear a uniform similar to yesterday, an opulent arrangement of robes with the pin on his lapel. A grand sword is strapped across his back, held in its sheath. He looks elegantly put together, though it does little to hide the dirt and grime that scuffs his skin and hair.
“Can I help you?” I ask, biting my tongue at the lack of formality due to my surprise. “I-I mean—”
“Now, now,” Xavier stops me, raising a hand. “As I said before, no need for the formalities. I was just taking a break from combat training and found you here—a pleasant surprise.”
“Oh,” is all I reply.
“Have you had a productive session?” he asks, gesturing to the balcony above. “I saw when you came down the staircase, though you seemed incredibly fixated on these boring old war records.”
“I was taking a break of my own,” I admit, turning to the towering bookshelves behind me. “I find the history of our great land quite interesting—don’t you?”
“Quite,” he replies dryly, and I raise an eyebrow. “I’m sure it’s a lot more interesting when you’re not forced to regurgitate it like clockwork as a child.”
“Well, I suppose that’s fair,” I surrender, embarrassment flushing my cheeks as my eyes gaze over the titles of several of the records. My mind blanks in an attempt to fill the silence.
“So, you can read the stars.”
“And you pay attention.”
“Can you read my stars?” he asks, jutting out his palm. I know what he means—if I can decipher his personality, his deepest, darkest desires. A sign for his future, an affirmation for his present, and an explanation for his past.
“Is this the order of a royal?” I jest, earning another laugh from him as I take his hand in mine. Though his features are soft, his hands are rough and calloused—likely from wielding weapons tirelessly. While my eyes trace the etching on his palm, I scoff and glance back up at him. “You do understand that palm reading is no more than a gimmick when it comes to birth charting?”
“Is it?” he asks, clearing his throat sheepishly. “I thought this was how it works.”
“In children’s stories, maybe. Reading fortunes from a palm and calling it starwork is an insult.” I lower his hand in my theatrics, gesturing to the balcony where the sun had begun to set. “Come, I’ll show you how it works as the stars begin to appear.”
We scale the staircase once again, the sun nearly gone by the time I’d returned. My charts and notes sat in the corner, still in its original position. I settle onto the pile of blankets and pillows nestled in the corner, gesturing for Xavier to join me as I glance up at the darkening sky. Xavier removes his sword from its sheath, setting it beside him with a resounding clink as he lowers himself comfortably.
“When were you born?” I ask, noticing the way that the stars had begun to reflect in the blues of his eyes.
Focus.
“The sixteenth of October.”
“Ah, a Libra!” I answer, mentally shuffling through my experiences with the air sign.
Daphne was also a Libra. He does act a bit similarly to her—it should have been obvious.
Glancing up at the stars, I lift an index finger to trace along the constellations and bite my bottom lip as I gather my thoughts. Xavier observes in silence, his eyebrows raised slightly out of curiosity as he follows along with the notes that I scribble onto my journal.
“The sign of the scales,” I begin, outlining the constellation that sat high above us against the raven skies. “Right there.” Taking Xavier’s hand in mine, I straighten his index finger towards the symbol and follow along its edges. Lowering his hand, I continue. “You have a strong moral compass. One that is well respected in a position of authority.”
“What a shock,” he answers sarcastically, and I furrow my brows as I think deeper about how to play into this ‘Evol’ of mine.
“You can be incredibly susceptible to pleasing others before yourself—a dangerous habit. It means when you finally have the opportunity to indulge yourself, you might not be able to stop.” Xavier’s gaze meets mine, and his cheeks flush at the comment.
“You have long had to hide your emotions, a double-edged sword. One that gives little away in a difficult position as king, but makes for a terrible lover.”
“And all of this you learn from these stars?” he asks, gesturing to the constellation I’d outlined. I nod, and he crosses his armored hands across his chest. “Would I make a good king?”
“Yes,” I answer nearly immediately, though I ignore the façade of the stars for a moment as I remember what brought me to the castle in the first place. “So long as you make your own decisions. Tradition is the downfall of many.”
“Bold statement in the highest home in all of Philos,” he scoffs, and I shrug as I gesture back towards the skies above us.
“You asked me to provide a service, which I did. The stars’ answers are not my own.”
“And you use this ability to predict even military activity?”
He knew what the king had assigned me to chart.
“Yes,” I repeat, gathering my notes before me and preparing to offer the monologue I’d give the king in the morning. “The rebellion sits at the far West of the kingdom, near the gates to the seas. If they are able to access those seas, the stars show that the tides will bode well for them to gather wind in their sails to get as far as the neighboring territory. The royal guard will need to arrive at the western post as soon as the end of this week if they anticipate to quell the rebellion.”
Reading moon cycles was no difficult feat, but ousting the hopes of other commoners seeking a better life outside of Philos surely was. Nonetheless, it was necessary to make sure I didn’t lose my own head in this palace.
“That … is impressive,” Xavier concludes, gazing over the labyrinth of constellations and moon cycles I’d illustrated before him. “Is this something you can teach? At least the knowledge that comes with your Evol.”
“I cannot outwardly teach you what has been gifted to me,” I answer carefully, nearly choking on the lie that I could manipulate the stars, “but I can help you learn how to chart this information.”
“This would be incredibly beneficial as king,” he ponders, fingertips tapping against the linens beneath us. “Being able to predict the movements of an opposing force without even having to send men in myself. It would mean less lives at risk, though relying on the stars’ answers has its own risks.”
“Hasn’t gotten me killed yet,” I answer dryly, and Xavier fails to stifle his laugh. I can’t help but smile, pleasantly surprised by the prince’s ability to take a joke well. “I can teach you, then. Join me each nightfall after supper.”
“Your wish is my command.”
* * *
And so, we fall into a cycle like clockwork. Xavier spends his day training to become the next king, hours spent in history lessons and combat trials. I sit in the library, archiving constellations and moon cycles to share with the royal guard with answers to the king’s suspiciously specific requests. I see little of the king himself, spending so much time locked away in the library or sneaking off to the garden that sits beneath my room.
Xavier and I have supper separately, mine with the handmaidens and his with the fellow nobles. I was no more than a servant to the king in this role, after all. The young ladies are kind, telling me stories of the handsome Prince Xavier and their days in the village before they were granted the ‘opportunity’ to serve His Majesty.
Oh, boy.
They fail to notice the poison that trickles out of its vial each time I visit, landing into the daily pot of stew intended for the king each night.
It’s a pity that he’s seem to come down with something.
Xavier and I ascend the staircase when all grows quiet, settling into navy and gold blankets beneath us with a flurry of stars scattered across an ebony canvas above. He began to bring his own journal, taking diligent notes and asking an unnecessary amount of questions. I explain how to chart faraway planets and the rotation of the stars, what it means for the constellations to align and how to read weather patterns.
Our nights were not all work. He recounts the time he spent in combat, how he would have to repeat sparring drills nearly a hundred times before Alexander would let him retire for the evening. He would demonstrate, unsheathing his grand sword and casting his own Evol before me—the power of light.
Ironic, it was—light and dark magic coming together.
It’d been nearly a month of charting stars for the king when I’d received correspondence from Mona asking for progress. I write back in encrypted ink, letting her know that the castle was well under the impression that I was their greatest militant resource and that the king had been fighting a nasty cold. I let her know that the poison was nearly at its end, which meant it would not be long before its full effects began to set in.
Placing the tattered paper into the crow’s beak, it bows its head as it descends from my balcony into the night skies. A knock at my door causes me to flinch, the sound resounding against the hammering in my chest as I hurry to answer.
Xavier stands before me, grinning excitedly as he extends a hand toward me. I raise an eyebrow in question, glancing at the sundial perched atop my dressing table.
“Aren’t you supposed to be at supper?”
“As are you,” he retorts. “But I saw you standing out on your balcony.”
I still, praying to every spirit that he was unable to see the letter I’d slipped in the crow’s beak.
“So, how can I assist you?” I ask, leaning against the gilded doorframe. “Our lesson isn’t for another hour.”
“I think we ought to skip the lesson,” he replies in a hushed tone, and I narrow my eyes at him. “I’ve got a better idea.”
Covered in cloaks, we hurry to the furthest end of the garden beneath my bedroom where the towering stone wall secured the castle from all outside. Counting beneath his breath, I watch as Xavier presses his fingers to one of the stones and it falls deeper into its crevice.
Suddenly, a hatch unlocks beneath the overgrown vinery and I gasp in surprise, following behind him into the quiet night just behind the castle grounds. The sound of horse hooves on gravel captures my attention, a towering white stallion standing at the ready beside us.
“How did he get here?” I ask, confused as all hell as Xavier begins to untie the binds of his halter and lead. Xavier simply chuckles, unfastening the ropes as he turns to me.
“Alexander left him here for me—or well, us.” His cheeks grow rosy at his own statement before he clears his throat. “Even the most stately prince needs a night off of the grounds.”
“And I am going … why, exactly?”
Xavier ghosts his hands just before my waist, a silent request for consent as I nod once. He grabs onto my waist, his touch gentle yet strong as he guides me onto the horse’s saddle. I’d never needed help getting onto my own horse in the village, but it felt nice to not be in charge for once. He follows soon after, landing in front of me with a tight grip on the reins.
Instinctively, I wrap my hands around his slender waist and he flinches in surprise, taking a moment to relax at the touch.
“I want to show you something,” he turns back to me to reply, adjusting himself before whipping the horse onwards.
We ride across the plains that stretch behind the castle, a part of the kingdom I’d never seen before. Lush greenery surrounds us all around, towering pine and cypress trees meeting glimmering lakes that held the reflection of the full moon above. The night was quiet and clear, my arms firmly wrapped around Xavier as I fight the urge to lower my head against his shoulder.
It takes some time before we come to a stop at a clearing just about a mile from the castle, perched high above the rest of the fields. A grand wisteria tree sits at its center, lilac branches hanging low and swaying with the gentle breeze. Xavier brings the stallion to the tree, tying its lead to a branch before helping me dismount. I inhale deeply, the floral scent bringing warmth to my lungs as I let out a blissful sigh.
“This is beautiful,” I remark, settling onto the ground beside the tree’s trunk and taking in the fields below. We were far from the central villages of Philos that sat beneath the castle, on the opposite end of the continent towards militant territory. Commoners were often too afraid to enter these grounds out of fear of being captured—or worse.
Xavier sits beside me, removing his cloak and fixing his tousled blonde hair. His deep sigh mimics my own, hands in his lap as a serene smile stretches across his face.
“I know,” he answers, and I ignore the way that his gaze lingers over me as I keep my eyes fixated on the landscape. He clears his throat nervously, following my eyes to look out at the skies. “I came here a lot when I was younger with my mother. She loved to look at the stars—maybe not as much as you, but she came close.”
“The queen was such a lovely woman,” I reply softly, looking up at the way the wisteria swayed in response. “Taken from us too soon.”
I meant every word I said. The queen was a kind, competent leader. She cared deeply for her people and protected the most vulnerable. Her death came as a shock to the people of Philos, falling ill at such a young age and leaving the kingdom in the hands of her husband who sought to rule with a vengeance.
“She was,” Xavier answers remorsefully, his voice heavy with a strange kind of sadness. “I’m sure she would have enjoyed your company very much.”
“Do you?” I jest, and he offers a shrug that earns a shove in response.
“Occasionally.” Xavier moves to stand, offering his hand to me. I take it, still noticing the way his hand was rugged from the scars of sparring. He winces at the pressure and I apologize nearly instantly. “It’s alright—just a practice wound.” The pain etched across his face is quickly masked by the bright-eyed expression I knew him to have. “Now, then. Have you forgotten what tonight is?”
“I—Have I?”
“The meteor shower,” he answers, and I widen my eyes as I fight to come up with an excuse as to why I had forgotten. “This is the best view in all of Philos.”
We turn to the skies, staring up at it expectantly as Xavier comments on each constellation he recognizes. I grow tired of praising him, about to snap at him to hush when a flash of light hurdles through the raven night. One by one, a flurry of meteors dance across the sky in streaks of bright white. Gasping under my breath, my eyes grow wide at the sight of each shooting star.
“It’s spectacular,” I comment in a hushed whisper, my eyes fixated on the bursts of starlight as they glide over us. Xavier pays no attention to the skies, his head turned to me as he lets out a gentle sigh of his own.
“It truly is.”
I turn to him, his eyes glimmering with starlight and his expression unreadable. My heart begins to hammer against my ribcage, the distance between us suddenly noticeably close as we hold one another’s gaze under the shower of stars. I watch as Xavier’s breathing grows shallow, his eyes darting between mine and—
He leans in, pressing his lips to mine in a gentle kiss.
I blink in surprise, about to pull away when the only thing I recognize in my mind is how delicious he tastes. I close my eyes, draping my hands around his neck as his find my waist. Xavier’s scent floods my senses—the scent of vanilla and musk, coupled with a hint of the wisteria that hangs around us.
He pulls away from me painfully, lifting a hand to brush the hair out of my eyes as he meets them with a soft smile. The nerves thrumming along my veins serve as a violent reminder that I should sit down. I lower myself onto the tree trunk once again, Xavier joining me and snaking an arm comfortably around my waist.
“Thank you,” he says suddenly, and I glance at him from the corner of my eye. “For just—being here. Coming to the castle. I know it wasn’t for me, necessarily … but in a strange way, it was. Perhaps my mother sent you.”
My heart aches with guilt, if only for a moment.
“Perhaps.”
We remain like that for a while, the stars continuing to soar above us as we comment on the full moon hanging high above the fields. Xavier asks me to tell him a story about charting from the village and if it were difficult to do so being at a lower vantage point, when I notice him nodding off.
“Hey!” I snap, pinching the corner of his arm and causing him to jerk awake in surprise.
“I’m sorry,” he answers sheepishly, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “Are you not tired?”
“I—I don’t really sleep much,” I admit, the first time I’d shared the truth with someone that was not Daphne. Xavier freezes, his expression now alert as he glares at me in confusion.
“What do you mean?”
“I haven’t had a real night’s sleep in nearly … twelve years, or so? Right after —”
“After what?”
“… my parents died.”
“How did they die?”
“Traveling accident,” I reply nearly instantly, the lie rolling off of my tongue like honey after saying it all these years. A deep urge festers within me to share the truth with him, to tell him that it was at the orders of his wretched father that they were murdered for protecting hunted children.
Xavier wrestles with his thoughts for a moment, choosing to not answer and instead pulling me into his arms with a chaste kiss to the top of my head. The gesture is gentle, comforting almost. He traces small patterns along my back, the sensation settling my nerves and forcing my eyes to flutter shut. He hums beneath his breath, the sound carrying along the wind as I blink more slowly and slowly in his embrace.
The sky grows blurry, fading into a myriad of starlight and ebony.
* * *
I awake the next morning in bed, tucked between the silks and linens in my bedroom. Jolting up in confusion, I press a hand to my forehead as I try to recount what happened the night prior. Sunlight pours through the sheer drapes, forcing me to rub the sleep from my eyes.
Sleep.
I was asleep.
A note tucked between the pages of my journal catches my eye and I reach to the bedside table to grab it, the sprawling handwriting immediately recognizable.
I hope you had a good night’s rest, if only for a little while.
My cheeks grow warm after reading the note, recognizing that it wasn’t a dream after all. Turning the page over, I notice another request scribbled across the back.
I’d like you to join us for supper tonight. I’ll have the handmaids deliver a gown to your room for the evening.
The day passes much too slowly, my time in the library alcove wasted on poetry written with Xavier in mind.
I return to my bedroom in the evening in defeat, nervous now knowing I’d have nothing to report to the king on the day’s requests. Word-of-mouth from the handmaidens proved that the poison had settled in and began to run its course, the king growing weaker and feeble at the hands of his mystery illness. I anticipated how he would react to my spending dinner with him and the prince, just us three in the royal dining hall.
One of the handmaidens knocks on my door gently, delivering a stunning navy and gold dress that mirrors of the colors of the palace in celestial patterns. It fits perfectly, the color radiant against my skin as the details glimmer under candlelight. I reach into my luggage for a familiar crystal, pressing it to my heart with a deep sigh to rid me of the anxiety that churned in my stomach.
Tucking it back into its satchel, I tap the dagger strapped to my thigh in silent readiness as I follow the guards to dinner.
* * *
The king looks awful.
His eyes are sunken, surrounded by dark circles that cause the steel gray of his eyes to look pure white. He has grown thin and frail, the crown on his head suddenly seeming all too heavy. He struggles to enter the dining hall, guided by the royal physician. Xavier stands across from me near the head of the table, worry etched across his face as he watches his father’s strained movements.
I know that look well—the fear of losing a parent. Although, mine was no tyrant.
Dinner begins uneasily, servings of stewed meats and vegetables brought to us in towers of plates and trays. I pick at the corner of my dish, each of the king’s coughs a reminder that I was to blame for his downfall. The pride I’d originally felt knowing we were one step closer to ending his tyranny had been quickly replaced by the guilt I felt every time I looked over at Xavier.
We fall into a conversation surrounding my ‘Evol’, the training I’d received from my late father in charting the stars and the king’s praises for my efforts to support the expansion of Philos. Even at the door of death, the man was greedy for power.
“I understand you’ve been supporting Xavier in his efforts to learn more about the stars,” the king comments, and I nod. “A remarkable effort. He will need someone like you at his side when he is to ascend the throne.” I offer a feeble smile in return, one that pales in comparison to the proud expression on Xavier’s face.
“Which reminds me.” He turns to Xavier, suddenly appearing more as a king before me than he had been all night. “Have you arranged the correspondence with the royal guard in the villages to enact the latest legislation?” Xavier confirms, and I raise an eyebrow in question. The king glances over at me and notices my confusion. “Thanks to your recent coordinates regarding the rebellion stationed in the neighboring forests, we were able to confirm the grounds to enact an executive order to exterminate all forms of uncontrolled dark magic.”
I freeze, nearly dropping my silverware onto the plate before me. Suddenly, the room is spinning. I can barely hear the king go on to explain that dark magic will be deemed punishable by death on sight, the sound of his voice floating further away as my vision grows hollow.
“I understand many of these … other folk contribute quite handsomely to society,” I reply, choosing my words carefully. “Many of them hold profitable positions in the villages, from what I understand. Would it not be detrimental to the wealth of Philos to … to murder them all? Especially if you can’t pinpoint each and every one of them?”
“Black magic is barbaric and unruly,” Xavier interjects, and I force myself to not unsheathe my dagger at his words. “How can we expect witches to serve our people in the long-term?”
“I—I suppose you’re right,” I surrender, choosing to bite my tongue to hide the utter shock I feel towards Xavier. It was as if a mirror had been shattered and its shards plunged through my heart. This was not the man whose arms I fell asleep in just the night prior. “Well, I wish you luck in your endeavors. Let me know how I can assist.”
“I will be assigning orders to the royal guards by the end of the week,” Xavier explains, finishing his dinner shamelessly. “We must act with haste, given Father’s condition deteriorating so quickly.” The fear in his eyes remains, though his words are sharp with bitterness.
All I do is nod, staring down at the full plate of stew I’d left untouched.
Xavier offers to walk me to my bedroom for the evening, and I oblige.
“Do … do you really feel that way about people practicing dark magic?” I ask gingerly, watching the way Xavier’s jaw stiffens. Even in the dimly lit halls, I can sense the change in his expression.
“It was during the wars against dark magic practitioners that we lost my mother,” he replies, his tone darker than I’d ever recognized. “She insisted in caring for the wounded guards alongside the handmaidens while Father gave orders. We’re quite sure she … she was murdered by a wretched witch.”
“So, you’re going off of an assumption?” I fail to hide the disbelief in my voice as Xavier turns to me with daggers in his eyes. Realizing he’d lost his temper, he sighs and takes my hand in his, tracing along the lines in my palm.
“I’m sorry … it’s a stressful situation. I don’t wish harm on any of the rightful citizens of Philos. But, Father will not hold on much longer given his illness. I need to be prepared, even if that means following tradition and protecting our people from the age-old threat of witchcraft.” He references my early predictions for his rule as king, citing what I’d warned him against. Every word he utters is another crack in my heart, shattering the illusion I’d held, if only for a little while, that one of the royals of Philos actually cared about their people.
And then, the realization hits me.
It’s not just the king I need to kill.
Xavier’s blue-gray eyes narrow in confusion as I begin to tremble, pulling out of his embrace and hastily offering a goodnight before returning to my bedroom for the night. I tear off the opulent gown, exchanging it for my robes as I scribble another note to the coven.
* * *
The king is bedridden.
The excitement I thought I’d feel knowing he was at death’s door is underwhelming, replaced by the dread of who Xavier had become in my eyes—a puritan tyrant no different than his father, even if the wrapping was prettier. I carried on normally to avoid suspicion after my questioning, continuing to chart and read the stars like the good little astrologer I had been hired to be. I saw less of Xavier than usual, given the king’s condition and his preparations to unleash the royal guard on his people.
He visited me in the library from time to time, stealing sweet kisses and sharing his worries for the responsibilities that were to come. I would console him, stroke his hair and tell him that everything would be alright. I would take his hands in mine, telling him that it was written in the stars for all to be righted in the end and for his rule to be fruitful.
At night, I would sob in a way I never knew was possible at the thought of who the prince was.
Mona wrote back nearly instantly the night I’d shared the king and prince’s plans, confirming what needed to be done.
The night before the royal guards were to receive their orders, the prince came to me in a fit of anxiety to see me before he was to leave the castle for a prolonged period of time. I held his hand, telling him we should sneak away to his favorite place in all of Philos to ease his nerves. His eyes brightened at the idea and I beamed at him in return. He arranged for his horse to be in its usual waiting spot, just behind the stone walls of the garden. I let him help me up, and wrapped my arms around his waist as he carried us to the wisteria tree.
We sat beneath the tree in silence, the prince’s arms draped around me as I listened to the beating of his heart. The stars glimmered above us, each of them dancing against ebony as they stared down at us. I could feel my own heart pounding, incantations swimming in my mind as I began to feel dark magic churn at my core and rise to my fingertips.
Xavier takes my hands in his, our fingers intertwined as I glance up at the light dancing in his eyes.
I press my hand to his chest, humming a foreign song beneath my breath as the light begins to dim.
“The stars … the stars are growing dimmer …”
His eyebrows furrow in confusion, his face unreadable as he continues to stare up at the sky. I choke back the sob I felt crawl up my throat, pressing dark magic deeper into his heart as he begins to gasp for air.
“Why …” he asks, finally turning to me weakly with a gasping breath.
“It was never in the stars for us,” I answer pitifully, and finally let out a cry as the light leaves his eyes.