Chapter Forty-Eight

“Who were you talking to earlier?” Luna asked Killian as they descended the stairwell leading from the battlements side by side. Their larger-than-life shadows flitted across the floor in a macabre game of hide-and-seek, passing in and out of sight between the glare of the torches embedded in the stone walls. With every other step, one shadow rose taller than the other, peeling apart, fusing together, until Luna couldn’t tell whose belonged to whom.

Killian shrugged, her fingers caressing the railing. She had wiped her brow clean, but Luna caught the lingering scent of sweat. “Myself.”

Luna pressed her lips together but chose not to prod any further. “I see.”

They reached the bottom landing that connected the ramparts to the castle. Killian sauntered forward all but two steps before holding out a hand. They came to a standstill. The whisper of footsteps reached Luna’s ears, too furtive to be heard from afar without her enhanced hearing.

A phantom’s tiptoe.

Killian shot her a glance, and in unspoken agreement, they silently ducked back into the gloom of the stairwell. The other girl crouched low to the ground and peered around the edge of the wall, allowing Luna to lean over her and do the same. Breath held, they lay in wait for their mark to wander right into their path.

But about ten feet away from their hideout, the footsteps faltered.

“Who’s there?” called out a voice.

Luna’s brow furrowed. Before Killian could stop her, she slipped around the wall and crossed into the corridor to find a woman halted a few strides away. Silk gloves ran past her elbows, silver bracelets adorned her wrists and her features were hidden by a veil, but . . .

Luna squinted, taking in the purple Ibresean long coat hanging from her shoulders and the glossy waves of bronze hair. “Aunt Adrianna?”

Adrianna lifted her face to the light, her expression shifting into a grin. “Luna!”

She blinked, a little dumbfounded. “W-welcome back.”

“Did you practice your magic while I was away?” her mentor asked sternly.

“I—of course,” Luna replied. “Where were—”

“Hold that thought for later, will you?” Adrianna interrupted. “If I don’t get out of these sweaty robes right this moment I may have a fit.” She bustled past Luna, giving her shoulder a squeeze and throwing her a fond smile on the way. “It’s late, sweetheart. You should get some rest.”

Luna stood motionless as Adrianna strode around the corner and disappeared from view, the click click of her heels fading into silence.

Killian slinked out of the gloom. “Well, that was odd.”

“Yes,” Luna replied, staring after her mentor. “Very odd indeed. But I’m just glad she didn’t seem to notice my . . . outfit,” she added, gesturing at the second skin covering her entire body from neck to toe.

“Where do you think she went off to?”

Luna considered the question for a solid minute. Adrianna hadn’t been carrying any baggage with her, which meant that she had either lost it somehow or that she hadn’t needed any in the first place, even though she had left the castle for at least a fortnight. Both seemed equally unlikely. “No clue.”

“She was right about it being late, though,” said Killian. “It’s nearing dawn. You should sleep.”

Luna shook her head. “I need to eat something first.”

“Eat?” Killian frowned. “Eat what? Mortal food?”

“Yes?”

The anygné gave her a quizzical look. “What in hell for? Normal food won’t provide sustenance for you now that you’ve metamorphed.”

Luna’s steps stuttered. “What?” The panic frothed up into her chest before she even realized she had kept it repressed deep within her. This obsession had evolved into a ritual—a ritual she was obsessed with protecting. “But I need to eat at least five meals a day.”

“Five meals? Whose idea—” She cut herself off when Luna buried her face in her hands. “Whoa. Breathe, Luna.” Killian grabbed her hands and pried them free. Luna’s nails dug into the anygné’s skin, but Killian didn’t so much as wince. Instead, her amber eyes shone with concern.

“Stop looking at me like that,” Luna bit out. “I’ve got everything under control.”

“No, you don’t. You—” Killian hesitated, clenching her jaw. “I’m so sorry, Luna. I should have realized sooner. Listen. We’re only supposed to consume nectar from the Immortal Realm. Mortal food will do absolutely nothing for us unless we’re extremely low on energy.” She rubbed her temples. “I wish I could be of more help, but I’d probably make things worse. You should talk to Soraya. She’s really good with—”

“I don’t need to talk to anyone,” Luna muttered.

The anygné grasped her by the sides of her face. “Luna. I know I can’t replace Asterin, and I’m not trying to. But can you trust me?”

To her surprise, she didn’t hesitate. “Yes.”

“Then have mercy on yourself. It’s not just about your eating habits. Your mental image of yourself, your frame of mind in achieving your ambitions . . . they’re severely affecting the way you live your life. And I know we told you that you would have to train hard, but you can’t just work yourself past the brink. You might be immortal now, but there are other ways for you to fall and break yourself. I’m too selfish to watch you do that. So for my sake, talk to someone.”

“I am,” Luna rebuked weakly. “I’m talking to you.”

At that, Killian snorted. “I’m not good enough.”

The irony, Luna thought to herself. “That’s not—ow.”

Killian released her abruptly. “Did I hurt you?”

She shook her head and winced. Absently, she pressed her fingers to the hard plates of chitin on her forearm. They came away stained with silver. “What in hell?” she breathed, staring at the blood seeping through her second skin. She shed it partway to reveal the soft mortal flesh beneath.

The soft, marked flesh.

Exquisite whorls of cursive flowed from her elbow to the underside of her wrist, carved into her skin by an invisible blade, her own blood serving as its stolen inkwell.

Hello, my little shadowling.

Luna clenched her teeth at the sting as each beautiful letter unfurled stroke by languid stroke. “Eoin.” Who else, if not him? Her regenerative abilities were already working to mend the gashes from the previous letters, until each letter vanished without a trace—leaving her skin a smooth, blank slate once again for the god to engrave his pretty words.

I have a task for you.

Luna turned to Killian, her voice hushed. “Do you think he can hear me?”

The anygné shrugged. “Try saying something rude.”

“You say something rude,” Luna retorted. Nettlestings blossomed down her arm. “Oh, he’s not done yet.”

There is a convict—

“Eat maggots!” Killian exclaimed.

—who will soon be on the loose.

Luna winced again even as she snickered.

The convict is Harry.

Killian drew in a sharp inhale. Luna stared at the message in a mixture of dread and confusion, a tumult of questions reeling through her mind. There must have been some kind of mistake. Or perhaps it was a sick joke. Or a test?

Eoin scrawled on. Harry was my second shadowling, and the oldest, excluding Soraya. Killian can guide you to him if you haven’t had the chance to make the pleasure of his acquaintance . . . He stabbed out the ellipses, punctuating the three dots with particular aggression. Yet.

“Ow.” Luna whispered, blinking back tears. “What should I do?”

“Obey,” Killian answered simply. Grimly. “Or face the consequences.”

She shuddered, remembering the echo of agony from the anygné’s mortal memories. “But . . .” After everything she and Harry had been through together, between spending weeks in his cottage in the Aswiyre Forest to fighting alongside him during the battle on Fairfest Eve . . . Harry had believed in her when no one else had any faith in her at all.

Hunt Harry down, Eoin wrote into her skin. The order burned like poison in her veins. Prove your worth and bring him to me. I’ve already done you the favor of incapacitating him, so it’s nothing you can’t handle. Understood?

Luna inhaled shakily and closed her eyes.

The only weapon I’ve become is my own.

She was a lethal blade. Eoin could point her hand, could tell her where and when to strike, but at the end of it, the final blow was hers to wield and hers alone.

By the time she opened her eyes, she had slain the storm within her heart.

“Understood,” she breathed into the silence.

Good.

They both startled when a further response spilled out across her flesh.

And tell Lady Killian to eat maggots, too.