All the Sacrifice of Shadows (Starstorm #2)

Chapter 21

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

N ovalise and Asher’s wedding festivities descended into absolute chaos.

Drake had sensed the shift, a spear of awareness slammed into him almost immediately, but nothing could have prepared him for the sight unfolding before him. Monstrous tree forms with hollows for eyes and spindly branches for arms slashed their way through the delicate floral arches, crushing them beneath their trunk-like bodies. Grotesque vines slithered like serpents, overturning tables and crawling across the stone, cracking like whips with each strike. Gangly creatures with elongated limbs and animalistic skulls crowned with twisted antlers emerged from the gardens of House Celestine, smashing the floating crystal stars and gnashing their dislocated jaws, sending the noble fae who stood too close fleeing in fright.

Drake inhaled, his lip curling into a sneer.

The stench of rancid fruit, of tainted magic, permeated the air.

Whatever was controlling these fiends of the unnatural was corrupted, polluted by the desire of power. The magic of the earth had been sullied, defiled, and utilized to inflict terror.

Drake unleashed his wrath, his shadows unfurling, ravaging the gardens in vengeful ribbons of death. The darkness consumed him, erupting from the well of violence he kept tightly guarded, pouring from the tips of his fingers, and rolling off his shoulders in furious waves. Shadows whipped and hissed, attacking and lashing the depraved creatures, as the curse revealed the truth of his nature. He was a monster of shadow and night, of death and destruction. There was no sting upon his spine, no tattoo of a skull marked upon his flesh, as these vessels of soiled magic did not possess souls. But their lack of a beating heart did not stop the Shadowblade from thrumming with the call to kill, and it did not ease the intensifying need for bloodlust coursing through him.

He reached for the hilt of the dagger when a burning sensation cut through his palm, as though his hand had caught on fire. There was a push of power, a summons to his soul, as the bond flared hot and bright.

A storm of blinding sunlight and fissures of rainbows exploded in a rush of chaotic, familiar magic.

Drake glanced over and stared at the maelstrom of beauty beside him.

There was Creslyn, a sphere of radiant colors surrounding her as she took aim. She drew one arm back, stretching the other out before her as she gathered the glow of the sun in her palm. Fiery streaks of sunlight burst into devastating spirals, sparking and scorching the creatures rushing into the gardens. Her hair lifted from her shoulders, fanning out around her in a kaleidoscope of shimmering hues. The blue of her eyes deepened, a line of vexation marred her brow, and Drake swore he’d never seen anything more beautiful.

Even if she was holding back.

“What are you doing?” He meant it as a question, but she didn’t blink when his tone conveyed it as more of a demand.

“The same as you.” She didn’t even spare him a glance. “Defending my family and my house.”

Drake moved closer, his shadows mingling with the gleam of gold pouring from her. “Stay with me, do you understand? Do not lose sight of me.”

Her hostile gaze flicked to him, but she nodded sharply.

Together, they assailed the volatile beings of the earth in a clash of dark and light that ricocheted throughout the gardens. Yet for each one they took out, another appeared in its place. It reminded Drake of when he’d been called to Faeven to assist in saving it from the dark fae, yet where those nightmarish beings were summoned through a portal, the ones they fought now seemed to reappear as though they were nothing more than illusions. But Drake could not detect a single trace of glamour, and the destruction they left in their wake was far from imaginary.

He’d grossly underestimated how ill-prepared Aeramere truly was in terms of defending themselves against any sort of attack. Many of the fae were running away, hiding behind flowering bushes, and shouting in fear, utterly useless at wielding their magic defensively. It was absolute madness, watching the disarray and panic unfold around him.

Besides himself and Creslyn, from what he could see, only two others held their ground.

Novalise and Asher.

They stood in the center of what was supposed to be the dance floor, protecting those who sought refuge behind them. Novalise in her wedding gown, a frenzied starstorm encircling her as bolts of starlight shot out in swift arches, like blazing shooting stars. Asher right by her side, his gray gaze banking the smoldering embers of rage, as he attacked with the cold, silvery black flames of frostfire.

Out of the corner of Drake’s eye, he witnessed Creslyn jerk violently. A tremor of fear sliced down the bond between them, and then his wife screamed.

“Caelian!”

If Drake’s blood was already cold, hearing Creslyn scream like that turned it to ice.

He spun in the direction of her line of sight, only to find Caelian on the ground, those hideous vines wrapping around her ankles and waist, dragging her across the ground. She was thrashing against them, her nails scraping against stone as she struggled to get away.

“Calm.” Drake spoke the word into Creslyn’s mind. “Stay calm.”

She whirled on him, eyes wild, the sapphire nearly as black as obsidian.

A moment later, Kjeld appeared, barreling through the mass of snared vines. He tore at the axe strapped to his back, swinging it into a wide arch, hacking at the leaves that stretched like claws. Kjeld slammed the weapon into the ground, severing the growth of vines, and the earth shuddered beneath Drake’s feet. Black ooze spilled from the cleaved plants, spreading like diseased blood, the putrid stench of foul magic lingering in the air.

Kjeld scooped Caelian into his arms as though she were weightless, darting in long strides toward the safety of House Celestine.

One of the terrorizing tree fiends lurched toward Creslyn, and rage engulfed Drake. His shadows seethed with raw, feral energy, grasping the creature and snapping it in half.

Grabbing Creslyn by the wrist, he hauled her close, then grasped her chin.

Her eyes were orbs of midnight.

“Focus, solysa ,” he demanded, searching her face. “Never lose focus.”

She blinked once, her gaze clearing, her expression hardening into solemn resolve. She whirled away from him then, lashing out, aiming with poise and striking with grace. Still, she did not unleash the depth of her potential. There was more there, something darker, hidden away beneath her surface. Something she refused to recognize, to accept.

But she would in time, for even the gods and stars could see she was fearless. A tempest of sun and shadow.

Drake scanned the gardens, his gaze landing on a small dais where Queen Elowyn stood with her arms spread, a halo of evergreen around her. She looked as though she was trying to summon something as a means to combat the attack. Her brow was furrowed in concentration and her eyes were closed, but nothing was happening. Again, her magic grated against his senses, though he could not pinpoint what it was that set his nerves on edge. Behind her, Lady Trysta cowered, her arms flung over her head in a means of futile self-preservation. And that bastard, Bastian Valewood, was nowhere to be seen.

Without warning, Ariesian sprinted across the gardens, directly into the battle, a storm of shadows and starlight churning around him. Exactly as Drake suspected.

Sarelle was rushing toward her brother, but her heels made no traction against the ground littered with vines and tree limbs. Her shoe caught upon one of the strewn branches and she tripped, stumbling forward. She cried out, attempting to break her fall, but even Drake could hear the snapping of the delicate bone in her wrist when she landed. Her peal of agony splintered through the night. One of the beasts with distorted arms and a misshapen skull loomed over her, its unsightly jaws grinding in crazed hunger.

Drake set his shadows upon the monster, but a blur of black and gray cut him off, launching itself in front of him. He pulled his power back as the beast took shape—it possessed the body of a dire wolf, the sleek fur glossy in the sparse light. Its head was nothing more than the wolf’s skull, adorned with curving horns, and eyes that glowed like the sea set on fire. Drake had only seen such a creature once before, and only briefly…

The wolf-like creature growled, its menacing howl piercing the air as it hovered over Sarelle. She curled into herself, her broken sobs echoing through the gardens.

Ariesian bellowed.

Creslyn jolted forward, then froze as the dire wolf transformed, shifting into the one fae who’d been most notably absent during the entire attack.

Prince Aspen.

He gathered Sarelle with one arm, swiftly tossing her over his shoulder, then his fist collided with the ground. The stone cracked and fractured beneath the force of the impact, and Drake reached for Creslyn, lifting her off her feet.

Power blasted from Prince Aspen in a gust of magic that pulsed in steady waves. Decay spread across the earth from where the prince’s fist met the stone, bleeding through the gardens like spilled ink across a messy canvas. The ground turned black, the fiends with sullied magic withered and died, crumbing into nothing more than piles of rotten ash as he took control of nature’s elements, as he stole the entirety of their life force. Prince Aspen stood slowly, carefully lowering Sarelle back to the ground, but she clung to him, her face buried against his chest. He rolled his neck once, popping his jaw.

Silence befell the gardens of House Celestine.

Everyone stared at the prince, at Sarelle, whose muffled crying gradually ebbed. The shadows withdrew and the sunlight dimmed. The starlight faded and the frostfire dwindled. All around, the swell of magic subsided, until all that remained was an eerie, lingering quiet.

Drake set Creslyn down, linking their fingers together. He strode toward the prince, hauling her along with him.

Prince Aspen glanced over at Drake, his mouth pulling into a tight line, as he attempted to pry Sarelle off him.

At once, Drake shoved his way into the prince’s thoughts. “Explain yourself.”

Prince Aspen did not appear at all shocked to hear Drake’s voice infiltrate his mind. He curled his hands around Sarelle’s shoulders, looking back at him from over the top of her head. “I owe you no explanation.”

But Drake refused to be deterred. “Tell me, how does a fae prince of mountain, forest, and earth possess the ability to shift into the Eyrewolfe?”

The prince’s face held calm impassivity, his breathing remained even and steady, and the beating of his heart gave no signs of insecurity. “Ask my mother.”

He held Sarelle out at arm’s length. Her sparkling, midnight hair was tangled and fell around her in sporadic waves. Her blue eyes were rimmed with red, her pale skin splotchy from distress, and tears stained her cheeks. She cradled her broken wrist with her other hand.

When she spoke, her bottom lip quivered. “I owe you a life debt.”

The prince scoffed, dismissing her plight with a wave of his hand. He straightened the lapel of his coat, then flicked his wrists, tugging on the cuffs. “You can keep your archaic traditions, Lady Sarelle. I care not for life debts.”

Her mouth fell open, her damp lashes fluttering in shock. “But you saved me.”

He clicked his tongue, annoyed. “I am not your hero.”

Ariesian stepped forward, wrapping a protective arm around Sarelle’s shoulders, pulling her into his side.

“If you will not accept a life debt on behalf of my sister,” he stated, his voice low and threatening, “then accept it on behalf of me.”

The prince merely lifted a brow, as though he might have been impressed for a moment but then thought better of it. He adjusted the gold chain of skulls hanging from his neck, effectively dismissing Ariesian with a singular look of disdain. “Unnecessary, my lord.”

He cracked his knuckles and stormed off, casting one final glance of loathing in the direction of Queen Elowyn.

Sarelle shook her head, clutching her injured wrist to her chest. “What was that?”

Ariesian cocked his head, eyeing his sister. “Are you inquiring about the attack, or the prince’s cheery disposition and rather interesting shapeshifting abilities?”

A blush colored Sarelle’s cheeks, and she took up a sudden interest in the mucky hem of her dress.

“Solarius.” Ariesian lifted one hand, beckoning over the second eldest Starstorm.

The glassy, alcohol-induced glaze in Solarius’s eyes was gone, having been replaced by poignant determination. He moved toward their small circle, one hand firmly gripped around Narissa’s wrist. Her face was ashen, nervous energy flowed off her in restless ripples, and there was a small slice along her left cheek.

Ariesian clamped one hand on Solarius’s shoulder. “The queen will likely call her High Council to the palace to discuss tonight’s events and hopefully uncover whoever was behind this attack. Mother and I will both be required to attend. Station guards at every entrance to the house and at the base of the mountain. No one comes in, no one leaves. The safety of our family is your responsibility until I return.”

Solarius nodded, solemn. “Consider it done.”

The eldest Starstorm had the distinct ability to command the attention of everyone around him. He wore his confidence, his demand for respect, like a crown. When Drake entered a room, people cowered. They shrank in his presence and avoided eye contact as much as possible. Ariesian, however, had quite the opposite effect. His demeanor reflected unshakeable resilience, composed power, and steadfast charisma. Rolling his shoulders back, he lifted his chin, garnering the notice of every fae in their general vicinity.

“Everyone shall return to their homes at once and take any necessary precautions.” He pointed toward the main path leading out of the gardens. “Now.”

Drake should have been concerned with who was leaving and who was loitering. He should have made it a point to keep an eye on Queen Elowyn and Lady Trysta, perhaps even have found a way to interrupt this supposed meeting of the High Council. But instead, he found himself facing Creslyn, finally able to truly look at her.

He didn’t know what he expected to see.

Perhaps she would find him horrifying given she was finally afforded an opportunity to witness the depth of his curse. Or maybe she would loathe him for staining her blood with the shadows of his own. After all, when she’d been in the throes of her sunstorm, her eyes had been nearly black. Surely that was his doing, his fault, for binding her to his depraved soul. Not only that, but he’d seen the way she’d been able to look right through the shadows. She’d found him watching her while she was talking to Ariesian. Creslyn had known he was there, and he thought she’d always been able to sense him, but when her gaze had latched right onto him through the shroud of the shadow realm, he’d known with utter certainty that they shared more than simply a binding of blood. Unless…unless that shred of darkness had always been inside of her, just waiting to be discovered and coaxed to life.

In that case, he would be more than pleased to accept the responsibility of her potential ruin.

A sigh shuddered out of her, and he captured her cheeks in his hands, his rough palms gently tilting her face up to him.

He searched her, searched the bond, for any sign of injury.

“Are you hurt?” he demanded.

She shook her head, her hair shimmered like an iridescent waterfall. “No.”

“Are you afraid?”

Her brows pinched together. “No.”

“Are you?—”

Creslyn rose up on her toes, wrapped her hands behind his neck, and pressed her mouth to his own. Her lips were soft, her kiss gentle, like a test of their intimacy, of the bond humming between them. She tasted him, explored him like it was the first time, and the quiet, barely audible noise she made caused his blood to stir. But this was not the pounding force of lust. It was different, a sensation that left his heart feeling like she’d wedged a dagger of promise into the wall of stone he’d built around it. One wrong move, and the entire thing would collapse. She was fracturing his defenses, breaking the foundation of his depraved soul.

She would be his undoing.

“Dearest sister,” Solarius drawled, his bored tone laced with a hint of malice.

Creslyn broke their kiss, her expression smug as she glanced over one shoulder at her brother.

Solarius inclined his head. “Your Highness. If the two of you would not mind coming up for air, I would like us all to meet in the observatory. I believe there are matters we need to discuss.”

He pinned Drake with a hard stare. “Some of which you may find rather beneficial.”

“Certainly, my lord.” Drake nodded. “We would be more than happy to join you.”

He wove one arm around Creslyn’s waist, fully aware of the power she held over him. Power that, if not mindfully controlled, could lead to his ultimate demise.

Drake glanced at the faint scar marring his palm, then clenched his hand into a fist.

Not only his demise, but hers as well.