Under darkened skies, p.8
Under Darkened Skies, page 8
Wave after wave of emotion rolled over Astrea, and she gritted her teeth. She knew she should be on her way, but what if the crowd was right? What if the rebels were escalating? Or what if the Delians or Zaikudi were bringing the war to Kalama? Fighting was currently limited to Corsyca, hundreds of miles away to the northwest, but surely it wasn’t a stretch to think they could get to Helosia’s capital.
“The lot of you are fools if you don’t think this has to do with the—” The fourth voice, a tall, pale woman, was cut off by the blast of a police horn.
“You need to disperse!” The staticky voice of an officer came over a bullhorn somewhere in the crowd. “Leave the area immediately!”
Despite the raging emotions pouring off the crowd, people started to disperse one by one. Whatever was going on wasn’t anything Astrea needed to be involved in. She needed to be focused on impressing the emperor and exceeding his expectations, not city gossip and graffiti. And so Astrea hurried past the edge of the crowd and toward the library, ready to get some real work done for the afternoon.
Chapter 9
Laughter echoed through the Nikaphoroses’ dining room, a balm to Astrea’s soul.
Even though Astrea had to work earlier in the day, this dinner more than made up for it. It had always been tradition for her and Saros to join the Nikaphoroses for dinner on Sunday evenings, but this was the first time they’d managed to get together in a month. Astrea didn’t even know what they were laughing about, just that Balthazar had said something to earn a chuckle from even her stoic uncle.
Astrea’s mother, Roxana Sovna, had died over a decade earlier from a sudden-onset illness. Astrea had never known her father, and her mother hadn’t shared his identity with Saros. He was her only blood family left in the world, but the Nikaphoroses were family, too. While Balthazar was Cressida’s match—strong, fierce, outspoken—Sarsali was more Astrea’s speed. A Greenkeeper, she worked in gardens all around the city, encouraging new life to bloom all year long. She was gentle, soft-spoken but firm in her beliefs, patient. She was everything Astrea wanted to be.
Sarsali clutched a glass of wine to her chest with one hand, the corners of her lips pulling up into a sly smile that highlighted her high cheekbones. Though she was well into her middle age, her deep bronze skin remained smooth and bright. “Cress, my dear, didn’t you try that new recipe today?” Sarsali brushed a dark, glossy curl out of her eyes. She typically wore her long hair in a braid down her back, but she’d left it loose tonight. “What was it again?”
“Tarts, Ma.” Cressida took a swig of her wine. “Melon tarts.”
“Melon tarts?” Saros asked.
“Don’t knock it until you try it.” Grinning, Cressida pushed her seat back and disappeared into the dark hallway beyond the dining room. The floor creaked. Cabinets slammed. Then Cressida returned, a pink and blue ceramic platter in hand. “Go ahead, try them.”
Astrea never questioned Cressida’s kitchen creations. She somehow knew what combinations of ingredients would work best, and the tart was no different. Subtle, sweet, and light, Astrea ate two of them before Saros even finished his first.
“Decent,” he said, setting the half-eaten tart down in the remnants of spicy red sauce left on his dinner plate. Cressida and Balthazar had cooked a Taipoli dish for dinner, one passed down from Cressida’s maternal grandmother, who still lived in the southern islands. “But I prefer the strawberry ones.”
Cressida rolled her eyes, but peach amusement colored the air around her. “I’ll make sure I bring some by the observatory later this week.”
“I would appreciate that very much, my dear,” Saros said.
“Speaking of the observatory.” Balthazar ran a hand over the smooth dark brown skin of his head. He’d had curls tighter than Cressida’s for many years but had recently taken to shaving it all off. He crossed his arms and shifted in his seat. “How is your new assignment going, Astrea?”
“How, exactly, is that speaking of the observatory?” she asked.
He offered her the smallest of smiles. Balthazar was tall with broad shoulders and impressive musculature even in his middle age. But where his physical size was intimidating, and though he was a titan in the Kalamian business community, Balthazar was also one of the gentlest people Astrea knew. He’d always been the first to offer the girls a fresh-baked cookie or patch up scrapes when they were children.
“I don’t know how it is,” Astrea said. “I’m supposed to meet Prince Varojin tomorrow to get things started.”
“Why would the emperor give Jin this assignment?” Sarsali asked as she swallowed the last bite of her dessert. Her jade eyes—the exact same shade as Cressida’s—flicked to Astrea, then Saros. “He’s been away for so long. Why now?”
Astrea shifted in her plush dining chair. She watched Sarsali as casually as she could, but the Greenkeeper’s emotions were calm curiosity, nothing more. Astrea had barely told Cressida what happened between her and Jin years ago, let alone anyone else at the table. The Nikaphoroses had always welcomed both Eliana and Jin with open arms, though Jin was given far more freedom than his sister. He’d visited this very house on birthdays and a dozen other occasions, and the Nikaphoroses were no strangers to the palace. Of course they were curious about what he was up to.
“Does it matter why he’s back?” Saros asked, rusty annoyance bursting to life around him. “That boy is nothing but trouble.”
“He’s hardly a boy anymore, Saros,” Balthazar replied, his broad nose and the corners of his rich brown eyes wrinkling slightly. “None of the Auris children are, well, children anymore.”
Astrea still had no idea why her uncle disliked Jin so much. Saros had never been fond of him, not even when they were all still children. That had left Astrea walking a tightrope as she got older, trying to balance her uncle’s boundaries with her and Jin’s friendship. Astrea’s chest ached. That wasn’t something she had to worry about anymore.
“Maybe not,” Saros agreed. “But I don’t like that he’s back, nor do I like that his father is recruiting him for this . . . work.”
“Why?” Astrea heard herself ask. “Did you foresee something?”
The rusty annoyance bouncing around Saros died as dark green concern took its place. His thin lips pressed into a line, then he shook his head once. “I saw nothing. I simply do not trust the bas—prince.”
“But you trust Eliana, do you not?” Sarsali asked.
“I do.”
“And Prince Kaius?”
“I believe Prince Kaius has the training necessary for tasks like diplomacy,” Saros said after a long inhale. “As does Princess Eliana. Prince Varojin does not. This exhibition is an awfully big task.”
“Lighten up, Saros.” Cressida tore off another bite of tart, chewing quickly before swallowing. “Jin’s smart. Astrea’s smarter. It’ll all work out.”
“It’ll be fine, Uncle,” Astrea said, even if she didn’t fully believe it herself. She’d been asking herself the same question as Saros: why was the emperor giving this task to Jin, and why was he giving it to him now? The only thing keeping her going was the knowledge that she was getting a big paycheck, and a big paycheck meant she would have options. She could decide what she wanted to do, if she wanted to leave.
“You act like he’s a monster, Saros,” Balthazar said with a chuckle. “Like something from those bedtime stories we used to tell the girls.”
“Because torturing small children with warnings of monsters and madness is the best thing before they go to sleep,” Cressida muttered.
“I warned your father not to tell you those.” Sarsali clicked her tongue. “Never does any good to scare children before bed.”
Parents all over the continent used stories of monsters to convince children to behave and go to bed at a reasonable hour. But those were just old stories from centuries past.
“I know he’s not a monster,” Saros finally said, his pale cheeks burning red. “Monsters aren’t real. But I do not trust the imperial family with my niece. I cannot.”
Astrea huffed. “I’m sitting right here.”
“Well then, you know the truth. I don’t trust them with you.”
“And whose fault is that?” Astrea asked.
This was an argument they’d had several times in her teenage years. Once, when Cressida and her parents were in Sezia for a summer holiday, then-fourteen-year-old Astrea had snuck both Eliana and Jin into the observatory. They’d just been going through the books in the observatory’s small collection, but when Saros had found them, he’d sent the imperial siblings home and warned Astrea against her friendship with them. All because of the lie he’d forced her into.
He’d softened up again on Eliana in recent years, but Astrea knew he still didn’t like the princess as much as he liked Cressida.
Saros opened his mouth to reply, but Sarsali pushed her chair back and stood. “Would anyone like coffee?” she asked. “Or tea? I could make tea.”
“I’m fine, thank you, Sarsali.” Saros stood too, then set his napkin on the table next to his plate. “In fact, I think I’m going to head home. I have some work I need to do.”
Astrea held back a sigh. This was what always happened. They’d start an argument about this situation—the secret, their living arrangement, something—and then Saros would retreat almost immediately. She hated that it happened like this, but she didn’t know how else to talk to him about it. And it was hard to hide her resentment, even if she understood his reasons.
“Make sure you’re careful out there tonight,” Balthazar said. “Both of you.”
“Was there another attack?” Astrea asked.
“No, but between that and the war, the whole city’s on edge,” he replied. “Best to be mindful.”
“Are you coming home now, Astrea?” Saros asked.
“I was going to stay.” She’d actually planned on going home early, but walking back to the palace with Saros was just going to be awkward now. She’d much rather stay put.
He nodded, the dark waves of his hair bouncing. “Alright.”
“I’ll drive you home tonight if you’d like, Astrea,” Balthazar offered, and Astrea agreed.
Sarsali left for the kitchen, and Saros and Balthazar disappeared into the dim hallway without another word. After one last look at Astrea, Cressida headed for the kitchen, too. Astrea sank back into her chair.
Why did this always happen? Sometimes it felt like Saros was speaking a different language, or maybe it was Astrea. Maybe they just didn’t understand each other anymore. It hadn’t always been like this, but for the last six months, they’d been getting into more arguments, more disagreements.
Had she changed? Had her behavior become too bold for her uncle’s paranoia? Not that she considered herself bold—far from it. Cressida and Eliana were bold. Astrea was just . . . sliding by.
The front door closing made Astrea sit up in her chair. Cressida returned first, then Sarsali and Balthazar trailed in after their daughter. Sarsali poured coffee for everyone, and Astrea spooned sugar into hers.
“Do you want me to talk to him?” Balthazar asked. “I don’t know why he’s being like this. He’s never been this obtuse.”
Astrea sucked in a breath. An idea tickled at the back of her mind.
“He wants me to leave.” Astrea took a sip of her coffee, grimacing at the bitterness and adding in some cream. “He wants me to leave Helosia.”
Sarsali frowned. “That seems extreme.”
“He’s brought it up several times in the last few months,” Astrea admitted as she looked up at the Greenkeeper. “The emperor is paying me a bonus for working on this project. I was actually considering taking Saros’s advice and leaving when this is over.”
“Is that what you want?” Sarsali asked, hints of her worry whispering across Astrea’s skin like a breeze.
“Maybe.”
“Then it’s something to consider,” Balthazar said. “You have time before this is all said and done. You don’t have to make a decision tonight.”
Astrea swirled her spoon through her coffee even though the sugar had surely dissolved by now. “The more I think about it, the more I realize it might be nice to get away, even just for a year or two. I mean, I haven’t left Kalama since we moved here.”
“We could travel together if you want, Az. Might be fun to see some more of the world.” Cressida glanced toward her parents, then added, “If you’d be alright running Lodestar by yourself for a while, Dad.”
“We can talk,” Balthazar offered.
“Is it wise?” Astrea asked, looking first at Balthazar, then Sarsali. “Do you think Saros is right for wanting to send me away? Am I foolish for considering it?”
Sarsali took a sip of coffee, then set her cup on the table with a soft clink. “I think he’s trying to keep you safe, my dear. Saros has always been willing to do anything for you.”
“Including lie to the emperor,” Astrea murmured.
“Including that,” Balthazar echoed. “Right or wrong, it’s done. And you’re grown now, and you get to decide what your next steps are. Stay in Kalama and stay on the sidelines, or leave the empire and live whatever life you truly want for yourself.”
“And those are my only choices?” Astrea asked, hating the bitterness clawing up her throat. She had so much in Kalama: her friends, her family, her job. No, her position at the library didn’t pay her much, but she had everything she needed. Why couldn’t she stay in Kalama and live the life she truly wanted? Why couldn’t she live here and be a Lightbringer openly? She hated hiding.
“They’re two paths, but where you end up at the end of that journey is up to you.” Balthazar smiled when Astrea peeked up at him.
“What if I’m not sure what I want?”
“It’s alright to not know what you want,” Sarsali said gently. “But when you don’t, the people around you may try to make those decisions for you instead. They often think they’re helping and sometimes don’t even realize they’re doing it.”
Astrea swirled her coffee in her cup as she turned Sarsali’s words over in her mind. “And if I know I don’t want other people making those kinds of choices for me?”
Sarsali smiled. “Then you just have to be willing to take a step back and figure out what you truly desire.”
“You have time,” Balthazar said. “Stay here and work on this project. Decide where you want to go and what you want to do when it’s done. And whatever choice you make, we’ll be here to help you. Whatever you need, just tell us.”
“We’d do anything for you, Astrea,” Sarsali said. “After all, you’re practically our daughter, too. And that’s what family’s for.”
Astrea swallowed hard, tears burning the backs of her eyes. The Nikaphoroses had been part of her life for so long, always filling in the cracks left behind when her mother died. Family dinners, birthday parties, even all the summers Sarsali had spent trying to teach Astrea more about gardening. Now this. She didn’t know what she’d done to get so lucky.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
“Once you finish your coffee,” Balthazar said, “I’ll drive you home, alright? Take your time. I’ll be in the parlor whenever you’re ready.”
Chapter 10
Though her weekend had wrapped up with Saros locking himself in the observatory, Astrea was feeling more confident in her decision to stay in Kalama for the time being. Balthazar, Sarsali, and Cressida were going to support her no matter what she decided, and Astrea was sure Saros would too, if he would take a few minutes to think about it.
Now, she was starting her morning in one of her favorite places: the library basement. Astrea loved when Raela received shipments of new books to add to the library’s collection, and a few new crates had come in earlier that morning.
“Fetch the crowbar, would you, Astrea?” Raela asked as she headed down the basement hallway. Six enormous wooden crates lined one wall, and they were easily as tall as Raela’s hip. She sighed. “You’d think they could have chosen smaller boxes to ship these in.”
“We’ll be fine,” Astrea said. She opened the door to the storage closet on the far end of the hallway and searched three of the cluttered shelves before she found the crowbar. The metal was cold in her hand as she met Raela at one of the crates. “Shall we start here?”
“Yes, let’s get this over with.”
“I thought you liked this part of the job.” Astrea used all her strength to get the lid of the first crate to crack free. The nails holding the box together shifted, then the lid popped up.
“Speaking of this part of the job,” Raela said as she reached inside and started removing the newspapers used as packing material, “I finally got that call from the emperor’s office.”
“You spoke to Emperor Aelius?”
Raela chuckled. “No, dear, not directly. His secretary—a man named Edouard. Do you know him?”
Astrea shook her head as she grabbed a wad of crumbled newspaper. “No, I’ve never met him.”
“I’m surprised.”
“Why?”
Raela shrugged her slender shoulder, then started gathering up the discarded papers. She placed them on the lid of the crate farthest from them. “I thought you would know almost everyone at the palace.”
“You’ve known me for two years, Raela. You know I’m only close to the princess.” She grabbed the last few pieces of newspaper and carried them to the pile Raela had made.
“Well, you’ve apparently made quite the impression on Emperor Aelius. He’s instructed me to give you twenty hours a week to dedicate to the initial research phase of this pet project, and then we’ll increase your time on it as needed. And this Edouard said you can expect a sizable deposit in your bank account this week and another when the project is complete.”
