Page 6 of This Shattered Star

I welcomed the sting of her firm pinching to redden my cheeks. It pierced through the ache she incited in my chest.

“That’ll have to do.” The frown lines bracketing her mouth went taught with disapproval. “We shall pray that the king will be focused on the other competitors.”

I cast a glance over my shoulder to spot my reflection in the vanity mirror.

She’d somehow managed to nullify the lilac in my right iris by coating my lids with thick layers of blue, a shade so dull it almostresembled steel, instead emphasizing my lips with a bold ruby. She could’ve done much worse.

There was no time to fuss with my hair. The chestnut strands would have to remain as they were, in loose waves down my back.

She hooked her arm through mine, practically hauling me off my seat as she guided us out of my rooms.

A faint breeze skimmed spindly fingers across my bare arms as we rushed down a maze’s worth of wide corridors, empty save for the both of us. It made the clicking of our heels echo across the white marble flooring.

The floor to ceiling gold-rimmed windows were lovely if one focused on the view overlooking the kingdom, but they constantly produced frigid drafts at all times of the year. Airy, near translucent drapes danced as we passed, their violet and blueberry pigments twin to the shifting colors in the ever-present night sky.

Although the walls and arched ceilings were made of diamond-encrusted black stone, the palace remained brightly lit, courtesy of twinkling chandeliers specifically crafted to mimic the stars. The diamonds greatly increased the effect, sparkling every time one moved.

“Lady Fennhaven!” A voice called from behind us, sounding faintly out of breath. “And Eloise, good gods, I’ve been looking for you everywhere.”

Diana did not slow, nor did she bother turning to see who’d shouted.

Clunking heavy boots and clamoring metal approached with increasing volume until another arm looped around my free one.

“If you did your job properly, you’d have noticed that Eloise forced us to be late.” Diana scolded the guard now at my side. I didn’t think it was possible, but her scowl deepened.

“Gideon,” I spared a genuine smile for the man—Diana’s personal guard. Though he’d always felt more like mine, seeing how much time he spent with me instead of her.

It wasn’t as if she needed him—not with the powerful magic she possessed—but all court members were required by law to employ at least one guard.

And so he spent most of his time training me. Teaching me to defend myself without magic. He was the sole reason I didn’t feel entirely powerless.

And the only soul I cared about in this gods-forsaken kingdom.

“Eloise, late? I can’t say I’m entirely surprised.” Gideon ignored her insult, instead throwing me a wink I would have missed if I hadn’t been studying him, the fatigue marring his expression. Tonight, the lines beginning to grow along his eyes seemed to double in number. He looked just as nervous as I felt.

My smile widened despite the growing pit in my stomach.

“Old habits are hard to shake. Even harder to kill.” I fought a hiss as Diana’s nails dug into my arm.

He donned his nicest set of armor, and had decided to style his raven-hued hair, the length of it nearly reaching his shoulders when combed back. He’d been clean shaven the last time I saw him, but his grey-speckled beard was already making a reappearance.

The arched doors to the wing reserved for the celebration approached at an alarming speed. They were just doors, yet they seemed to smile at my arrival with sharp teeth. Like they anticipated the violence that would begin on the other side.

“Just promise me that you’ll remember what I taught you.” Gideon pulled on my other arm hard enough to stop our momentum.

The softness in his russet eyes made me want to curse the gods in turn.

On my fifteenth birthday, he’d found me stumbling back to the castle, battered and bruised, with a crumpled piece of paper bunched in my fist. The single name, sprawled in neat handwriting, was somehow still legible.

He’d replaced it with a blade before I could even finish telling him what happened. And hadn’t allowed me to leave the training room until I managed to disarm him.

It had taken me several hours, and a single stroke of luck. I’d cried the entire time.

I shoved the memory into a dark corner. Forced steel into my voice. “I could never forget.”

Nine years’ worth of his teachings were now ingrained into the very way my body moved and breathed. His kindness could never be forgotten.

Neither would the hand he kept extending on my worst days.