Page 217 of Starside

But instead of ridicule … I’m met with silence.

I back up a step. I look to Vander, silently pleading him to tell me I’m wrong. Finally, he does meet my gaze again. But it looks sad.

Whatever the prophecy is, it can’t be fucking good.

Still … it’s apparently a good enough outcome for some of these heirs that Vander is bringing it up now …

As a reason to help me.

“We don’t know for certain if it’s about you,” Lord Ashcroft finally says, as if he heavily doubts it. But that’s confirmation enough.

They think there’s a chance I fulfill this mysterious prophecy.

My blood goes cold. Is that why the gods are after me? The God of Death, in particular?

Do I actually have a chance at killing the gods, like I promised?

Lord Ashcroft shakes his head. “I don’t believe it. The prophecy can be interpreted in different ways.” With one last long, lingering look at me, he strides out of the room.

Vander looks at the door, shoulders tense. Then he turns back to the rest of the heirs. “If it isn’t her, then why is there a bounty? Why do they want her dead?”

Magnus looks deep in thought. “The gods are thorough. They’ll eliminate anything they believe fits. It doesn’t mean it’s her.” He seems hopeful it’s not. Which again, makes me desperate to know what it is.

There are murmurings of agreement.

“But if it is?” Vander’s voice silences the room. “Do you want to take that risk? Not helping her now?”

More murmurs. More whispers.

More debate. One by one, heirs walk out of the room, one ignoring me, one shooting me an apologetic glance, one outright ogling, until only four remain.

One is Magnus. “You know where I stand, Aris,” he says, saying my name just as gently as he held me. Then, he reaches into his perfectly pressed jacket … and pulls out a necklace made of diamonds the size of the town weaver’s buttons. He offers it to me.

My lips part. It sparkles so brightly, my eyes hurt looking at it The cost of the silver chain alone—

“I—I can’t accept this.”

“Please,” he says, his voice so tender it reminds me of dancing beneath strings of starlight. “I insist.”

I nod, if only not to be rude.

“May I?” he asks.

I nod again, and he walks around me. His fingers lightly brush the nape of my neck as he clasps the lock. I don’t feel anything at all. No chill down my spine. No flurry in my stomach. “There,” he says, admiring me. “Now you shine brighter than the stars and the moon combined.” He bows. “The invitation to my House is always open. I hope to see you again soon, Aris.”

With that, he walks out of the room.

I frown, still dazed by the gift, wondering if it’s some part of this Heartfall Courting Ball, when another heir approaches me. His eyes are dark as night, just like his hair. His skin is pale. Lord Rodin—the heir of the House Vander says is secretly working against the God of Death. The one I need the most.

He looks me up and down with relish. His blade has a black stone in its hilt, and its edges are slightly brighter than the rest of its metal, as if it’s recently been sharpened. He buries it into the ground before me. “You have my oath, human,” he says.

And my knees nearly buckle in relief as I press my blade to his.

I don’t need any others now. His estate is the closest to the Land of the Gods.

I actually fucking did it.

Relief wins out against the revulsion of his heated gaze.