Page 2 of This Shattered Star

If a Starlight Champion got their hands on what lay inside, very few, save for the king, could rival them in magical power.

To be chosen as a competitor was considered one of the kingdom’s highest honors. But when the king called out my name in front of thousands, I considered it a death sentence.

Eloise Fennhaven. Competitor. Gods-cursed.

Two titles I did not ask for. Two titles that, when woven together, would lead to the most unfortunate of disasters.

Many trained for the Starlight Trials their entire lives. Honed their magic into a weapon crafted solely for death, destruction, and most importantly, victory.

The sort of training that I did not have.

Bile coated my throat and tongue, sour to the point that I expected to vomit.

“You’re not going to—” A strangled gasp split the lie into pieces as an arm locked itself around my neck with enough force to send me backpedaling. I stumbled right into the front of my assailant, cold air nipping at the back of my neck as my hood fell.

“If I were you, I would start thinking the opposite.”

The threat rang true, made worse by the smooth voice seemingly crafted of darkness itself. And yet, my attacker’s lips ghosted across shell of my ear as he spoke. A gesture reserved for sweet nothings, twisted by violence and the promise of death.

Notes of smoke and ash flooded my nostrils, pungent and overwhelming. A fire wielder, then, if he carried that scent with him.

But sharp metal bit into the underside of my chin instead of the blistering heat of flames. Blood would spill if I moved more than an inch. And it would not be beautiful this time.

I could almost hear that man’s soul, cackling at the irony of it all. He had every right to.

The alley was barren, giving me nothing at all in terms of advantage. No light shone from the other side of the cracked, dust-coated window facing us, which came as no surprise. All of the buildings in this area were decrepit and abandoned. Or otherwise used for temporary, illegal residence.

My distorted reflection stared back at me, a hundred different versions of narrowed brows and a growing snarl pictured on each cracked fragment.

“My grandmother will flay you alive if she hears of this,” I seethed at my attacker’s equally fragmented reflection. Their own hood sat perfectly fixed atop their head, concealing their features. “She will hunt you down until you’re torn open at her feet.” My words remained even despite the pressure around my windpipe.

I swallowed yet another scream as anger cleaved a burning hole through my chest. I’d been so, so careful. Never had I beencaught once in the last nine years. And on the one night that mattered—

“I’m not scared of either Fennhaven, sweetheart.” His lips trailed from my ear down to my cheek, his breath a soft caress across my skin.

He retracted his blade momentarily to pull down his hood. A strand of hickory dark brown hair fell over his brow, while the rest of it sat in tousled waves atop his head.

I schooled my surprise into a stony wall of boredom. “It is against the law to kill another competitor before the trials.” My fingers flexed at my sides, itching to grab the dagger at my hip.

I gambled weak cards. By the way his eyes met mine through the reflection of the window, he knew it, too.

Kodhan Dreadmourne, son of the King’s General, was known for many things. And bending the law was one of them.

As the Son of the Second, he was a prince in his own right. Should the king fall, his father—the Second—would hold the crown in his stead, until the gods anointed him, too. There was no reason for them to choose otherwise, not when he was the perfect candidate.

Though the sheer arrogance that oozed from Kodhan’s tight posture proved he did not need a crown upon his brow to get what he wanted. Not that his father lifted a single finger to stop him, so long as it didn’t affect him, or the king, directly.

One could only guess that was why he’d been chosen to compete. Another display of power. They knew he’d win.

That he was untouchable.

Maybe he wouldn’t kill me outright. But in this alley cloaked in shadow, with only the stars as witnesses, he would make me beg for it.

We hadn’t crossed paths once since his father brought him back from their family’s secluded estate, hidden within the northern mountainous edges of the kingdom, a little over onemonth ago. Miraculously cured from the sickness that led him to be taken away in the first place when he was very young.

And I preferred it that way. The rumors would stay just as they were. I wanted nothing to do with his antics. Stayed as far away from the whispers of his name as possible.

But he’d chosen to bring his antics directly to me instead.