Page 2 of Stars May Burn

“Tomorrow you will stop wearing your mourning clothes. I’ve ordered new dresses made that accentuate your figure in the new fashion. They should arrive at the house in the morning.”

Any relief I had felt in the chapel abruptly vanished. I jerked forward. “But Father, ending mourning so quickly isn’t proper. Furthermore, it may make people think I was not a respectable wife.” I dropped my voice. “Maybe even suspect we orchestrated Frederick’s demise.”

Father frowned at me and tapped his walking stick twice against the floor of the carriage to signal to the coach man. The sound of the reins snapping against horses’ backs was the only noise as Father’s gaze bored into me. I tried not to squirm, keeping my eyes on his chest so he didn’t think I was challenging him.

I startled when he finally spoke. “You are a Halfield, Sophie, and we always do what is right for our family. We make sacrifices to ensure the future of our position, our wealth. Let me worry about the rumors. Just wear the dresses and smile.” He leaned forward, pressing down on his walking stick. I tensed and the corners of his lips turned downward at my response. “You remember where this family has come from, don’t you? I was born with nothing. You will never understand what that is like. It has taken countless years of sweat and blood for us to come so far, and I’ve had to do many unpleasant things. Each of us must play our part. Think of your sisters and any children you and your siblings may bear. Do you want them to know shame and poverty? Of course not. Then we must constantly fight upward.”

I folded my hands in my lap and nodded. “You’re quite right. Forgive me, Father.”

I turned to the window, glad of the veil. Father was right. He had made sacrifices again and again for this family, and as the oldest child, it was my duty as well to protect my siblings and my future children—if I could even have children. I realized I was laying a hand on my belly and removed it before Father noticed the weakness.

I just hoped I wouldn’t have to marry another of Father’s associates from his moneylending business. My hand moved to scratch my wrist, friction from the lace causing the itchiness to burn. Frederick had been hard for me to love, but many men were even worse. My stomach twisted so I had to drag in air to force down the nausea. The smell of stale lilies still clogged my nostrils.

I had to be strong so others didn’t have to be. I had to try harder to make everyone happy.

KASTEN

Despite being confronted with the endless backlog of paperwork from my absence, it was good to be home. In Kasomere, I didn’t need to keep half an eye out for somebody trying to kill me.

I entered the drinking room next to my office as Callum was closing the heavy velvet curtains, shutting out the darkness pressing against the castle’s windowpanes.

He frowned at me as he turned up the kryalcomy lights. “What’s wrong?”

I raised an eyebrow in reply and closed the door. Why did he think anything was wrong? Callum might be my closest friend, but it unnerved me when he appeared to read my mind.

Callum folded his arms and cocked his head as he watched me walk to my armchair as if analyzing a horse for lameness. “You’ve been scowling all day. Is it your wound? Want me to have a look?”

Shrugging off my jacket, I sat down, then leaned to stretch out my back. I failed to hide a wince as the movement tugged on my stitches, which was all the permission Callum needed.

He motioned for me to sit forward and handed me a goblet of strong wine—the type I hated, but was good at dulling pain. I forced down a gulp, scowling as the bitter liquid coated my tongue. He rolled up the back of my cream shirt and hissed in sympathy.

I sighed at his melodrama. “Don’t tell me it’s infected.” I took another long drag of the revolting wine before discarding my cup onto the table. The wound hurt enough to be infected, but I’d injured my back so many times, it was hard to tell which pain was new.

“Eh, just a bit raw. One of the scabs opened up. Though, kingdoms, Kasten, the arrow must have dug in deep. How are you alive? How did that not hit your spleen or something else important?”

I pulled my shirt back down, grimacing at the new blood stain. If it wasn’t infected, there was no point in him gawking at it. “Bad luck?”

Callum sighed and dragged his usual worn chair diagonally opposite mine so he could rest an elbow on the scarred table. He pushed back his unruly golden curls and unsheathed his knife. He started to flip it into the air and catch it one handed over and over. His red coat was unbuttoned, as was half of his rumpled silk shirt. “You know, Kasten, there’s something that might make your father want you slightly less dead.”

Anger pooled in my belly. I wanted a distraction. I hadn’t come here tonight to talk about him. “Don’t call him that. He’s the king, not my father.”

My friend sighed, waving a hand. “Fine, fine, whatever. Refusing to call him your father doesn’t make you any less of a threat to him, you realize, but…” He drew out the word. “Apart from trying to kill you for your parentage, which we can’t do much about, he is also next in line for Kasomere.”

I frowned. “The king will try and kill me, no matter what I do. This time, he almost succeeded. He completely withdrew his forces when my battalion and I were in the thick of the fighting.” I shook my head in disgust. “I doubt I’ll live through another campaign.” I emptied my wine goblet.

Callum glared at me. “Just listen for once, will you?”

I threw him an acidic look which he didn’t seem to notice.

“If you had died from that arrow, your lands and wealth would have gone to the king. Every bit of plunder you’ve won, every inch of this sanctuary you’ve built, all of it would be in the hands of the man you hate.” He continued flipping his dagger, which was making my eye twitch.

I sighed and leaned forward, snatching the spinning blade from the air. “As we’ve already established, he’s going to have me killed regardless.”

Callum shrugged, pouting as he eyed his confiscated blade. “But you might as well not let him take anything else.” He smiled and wiggled his eyebrows. “What if there was somebody else to inherit Kasomere?”

“Are you suggesting I get married? Me?” I snorted, genuine humor at the idea suppressing my anger at the king for a moment.

Callum crossed his arms, appearing exasperated. “Of course, you should. And have an heir, if possible. We might have a full six months before the next campaign.”

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