Page 91 of This Shattered Star

“Like what?” The question was far from innocent.

One, slow breath, released through his nose. Like he, too, repressed a similar urge. To touch, to feel. It made it seem like his hands were bound behind his head in chains, and not in a casual way to protect his skull from the hardness of the stone behind him. His eyes flickered to the ceiling. Praying for what, exactly, I couldn’t tell.

“Never mind.”

After a few moments, his posture relaxed. But his mind didn’t. Wheels continuously turned behind his irises as he shifted his gaze back down to me. Contemplating. “Let me tell you a story,” he said, finally.

I laughed then. A full bellied, incredulous laugh that echoed across the four walls of the room. Kodhan’s expression forced it to a full stop. “What?”

“Your laugh. It’s the first time I hear it.” His tone was undecipherable. But it was rough around the edges, with an almost imperceivable hint of anguish.

“Well, this is the first time you’ve said something worthy of laughter.” Confusion scrunched at my features despite the lightness of my words.

He didn’t take the bait. It didn’t seem like he’d heard me at all. Those wheels kept turning.

So I continued. “The last thing I expected you to offer was astory.” I couldn’t help the second laugh that blossomed at the mere concept. My teeth sunk into my bottom lip to muffle the full extent of it. “As the esteemed Son of the Second, I thought those would be far beneath you.”

He remained silent for a few moments, still with that unreadable expression. Then, with a subtle shake of his head and a final cursory glance at my purple iris, he said, “Just humor me. It’s not like we don’t have time to spare.”

Before reality came crashing down on us again.

“Alright, fine. Tell me a story.”

I could’ve sworn he shifted closer.

“What do you know about the sun?” His breath tickled the crown of my head.

“The Sunstar, you mean?”

He simply hummed.

An odd question. But I answered honestly. “I know what our tutors taught us when we were children. That one of the first Starlight Champions, Orthil Wirenth, somehow managed to absorb all its power. He believed it would give him enough power to vanquish Maverick, who was freshly crowned and still getting a handle on his gods-given magic at the time. He failed, obviously. Leaving us in permanent darkness and giving strength to the monsters roaming outside the Veil. His efforts were all for nothing.”

The more detailed renderings of the battle between Maverick and Orthil had been lost with time. Now it was all based on speculation and muddled stories, save for the few facts thatremained constant with each retelling. Maverick would never,ever, broach the topic. I’d asked him to talk about it, only once. His answering look left me avoiding him for weeks.

“You never bothered to pick up any other books on the topic since then?” Nothing malicious laced his question. He truly seemed curious.

I snorted. “The hundreds of spun falsities of Maverick’s overexaggerated valor? No. I never saw the point. Inaccurate history isn’t my preferred genre of reading.” I debated stopping there, but it was just the two of us here. Our secluded little cocoon, tucked away from the rest of the world, was still intact. “I read what was necessary during my teachings. And when my parents were killed, I spent a lot of time in the main library, the one near the night markets, reading about magic. How others wield it. How to obtain more of it.” Anything that could prove the possibility of there being the tiniest shred of magic inside of me, somewhere.

“Then I began to run out of material. And hope.” A bitter laugh. “Now, books are more of a silent comfort. Though I must admit that I tend to reach for novels I can lose myself in. Pretend to be part of a world far better than this one. And honestly, make-believe creatures oftentimes make for better companions than real people.”

Kodhan laughed, the sound of it contagious. Enough for a smile to spread across my face.

It was my turn to pinch him. My smile widened when he half-heartedly attempted to swat my hand away.

“It’s come to a point where they know to ready a pot of chamomile tea when I arrive. The stars only know how much I’ve depleted their reserves. But it fills their coffers. And I never bother anyone, so the headmistress lets me stay as long as I wish.” I’d spent more hours seated by the gargantuan hearth in the center of the building than in my own rooms in the castle.

I thought of Kassandre and what she had sacrificed by keeping what she’d seen a secret. I owed her a life debt. And having a potential Starlight Champion in one’s debt was worth more than any amount of gold. She was keen enough to know that.

“I’m sorry. About your parents,” he clarified. “He shouldn’t have used them against you.”

I could almost smell the coppery tang of their blood coating the floors of that dusty, crumbled warehouse. Could almost feel my mother’s breath fanning the shell of my ear, the lingering pain across my arm where my father sliced into my skin.

“No, he shouldn’t have.” My lungs expanded to full capacity, then quickly deflated. I swallowed hard against the rise of bile that crept up my throat.

I wasn’t in that warehouse anymore.

I wasn’t the one responsible for their deaths. Someone else had butchered them.