Even so, Asterin loosed the faintest sigh of relief when the pianist’s fingers fluttered over the keys and the crowd’s attention returned to the stage.
The opening harmonies shuddered up her spine, hollow and bleak.
At that moment, a shadow slunk out of the glossy piano lid, which had been propped fully open.
Asterin glanced over at Eadric, but the captain’s eyes were closed in rapture. My imagination? she wondered, and tried to refocus on the performance.
The music told a story of desolation, of grief. Her magic welled up within her at the memory of blackened corpses piled high in a pit, pleading for release. She shoved her tingling fingers beneath her thighs.
And that was when she caught the shadow again, skimming the arches of the ribbed ceiling. The light of the massive crystal chandelier and spotlights overhead made it impossible for such a shadow to exist, let alone move. Her eyes narrowed as it coiled around the chandelier canopy, writhing like a dark eel.
It happened so quickly that she almost missed it. A tiny glint of metal fell from the rafters and bounced off the piano, silent beneath the waves of music. The pianist played on, blissfully unaware and wrapped up in her song.
“Eadric,” Asterin hissed, elbowing him. He startled to attention, blinking at her in the dark. She jerked her chin at the chandelier and then below, where more silver pieces were now raining down upon the stage—enough that even some audience members were taking notice.
Asterin’s heart stuttered when the chandelier emitted a sinister creak and veered violently to the left, chains and pendants clinking like the rattle of bones as screws continued to loosen and fall, ping ping pinging on the ground. People were rising from their seats, pointing upward and murmuring to one another, but as the pianist crescendoed into the coda of the piece, the sheer power of her playing drowned out their voices.
By the time Asterin finally had the sense to spring out of her seat, the chandelier was swaying in a drunken sailor’s dance. She whipped back the curtains dividing the royal box from the other seats and sprinted for the gallery ring on the opposite side of the hall, directly above the stage. Eadric and her Elites were right at her heels.
The train of her dress caught on the corner of a seat. Eadric caught her wrist to keep her from nose-diving into the floor, and helped her yank the fabric until it ripped free.
Her magic thrummed beneath her skin, still electrified from the music, and when the piece drew to a close and the first scream from the audience pierced the air, she collided into the railing and flung her arms heavenward to unleash her power in one mighty blast.
Wind and ice roared forth, snagging the chandelier as it plummeted. Nicole, Casper, and Laurel seized the folds of her dress just in time to keep her from toppling off the balcony and earning herself a broken neck. Nearby audience members jumped out of their way, eyes wide with awe, but Asterin paid them no heed, focusing all her strength on safely lowering the hunk of metal—and Immortals be damned, it was heavy—to the ground. Shards of ice as tall as trees erupted from the ceiling to latch onto the metal, frosting over at the base. Wind pushed upward to lessen the weight. Slowly but surely, the chandelier descended like a final curtain, each flame hissing out one by one as her ice spread.
Audience members pulled out their affinity stones to combat the onslaught of darkness. Little orbs of light flickered to life all around her, submerging the concert hall in an eerie wash of color that danced along the walls like an aurora.
Once Asterin felt certain her ice would hold, she sighed, right arm still raised to keep the chandelier frozen in place. Silence greeted her.
Asterin signaled for the Elites to release her dress. Eadric made a faint choking noise when she swung over the railing without warning. She summoned a path of ice to deliver herself swiftly to the stage, where the trembling soloist was still seated at the piano, her arms shielding her head from the would-have-been death looming above her.
“You’re safe now,” Asterin murmured to the girl, reaching forward to squeeze her shoulder. “Everything is going to be just fine—”
A smear of darkness along the rafters blurred across Asterin’s peripherals. With the speed and force of a meteoroid, it smashed through her reinforcements. She only had enough time to tackle the pianist aside before her ice blasted apart with an earth-shattering bang and the chandelier plummeted to the stage.
Chapter Two
Clink. Clink tap. Tap tap. Clink.
Luna worked the claw against stone, gently striking it with the mallet. For her, nothing could beat the satisfaction of chipping away just the right amount, just the way she wanted it to. She glanced at the clay model beside her, making mental calculations and comparisons, before sighing and letting her arms fall to her sides. She sprayed some water onto the clay to keep it from cracking, and then onto her own face, relishing the coolness. Autumn might have been around the corner, but the sun blazed hotter than a furnace through the glass ceiling. While the natural light filtering down into her workshop certainly helped with the visual aspects of sculpting, the heat dried out the clay before she could blink.
Stretching her arms over her head, she took a few steps back to survey her work. The clay model depicted a man’s head from the neck upward, his mouth agape and his brow twisted in a mixture of agony and torment. The stone matched the basic shape and contours of the clay man’s face, but she had yet to carve the suffering into his features. She couldn’t decide whether she was dreading it or looking forward to it. Maybe it was a bit of both.
Footsteps in the hall. They stopped at her door.
“Come in,” she called before the knock even sounded.
The door cracked open and her father peered in. “Ah, busy, I see. Would you like me to return later?”
“It’s all right,” said Luna. “I have training with Adrianna in a few minutes.” She rubbed the dust from her eyes, belatedly realizing her hands were no better.
King Jakob shut the door behind him and strode toward her, one hand behind his back. “Hm. I’ve got just the thing to help with the dust.” He drew the hand forth in offering. “Goggles.”
She stood frozen with reverence as he deftly unfolded them and slid them onto the bridge of her nose. They were a little unwieldy, but she would get used to them. “Th-thank you, Your Majesty.”
“Of course,” said her father gruffly. He gestured at her cheek. “You . . . you have something over there.” She wiped her face, but he shook his head. “You’ve made it worse.” Hesitantly, he raised a hand. “May I?”
She bit her lip and nodded.
Gently, he brushed his fingers across her cheek. His brow crinkled. “It’s spreading.” She laughed, but he persisted, giving Luna the perfect opportunity to study him up close.
Her father didn’t strike her as particularly handsome—at least, in her view. Priscilla had apparently seen otherwise, perhaps in the broad set of his shoulders or the sheer bulk of his frame. He had a rather prominent nose and tanned, weathered skin from a recent half-decade at sea. His eyes were a clear and steely blue, the same shade Luna’s eyes had once been, and his face was lined with stern wrinkles. Silver now peppered his sand-gold hair, but his smiles, rare as they were, always brought a mischievous, youthful glint to his eyes.