Page 47 of Celestial Bodies

Klorin shook his head. He looked up at Dacias, clearly about to speak, but Dacias cut him off. “I can’t get back with him, Klorin. I won’t. I can’t trust him.”

Klorin nodded. “I understand. Well, I’m here anytime you want to talk. Also, I want you to come to Cupidor with me tomorrow night.”

His heart pounded.Not there.“I can’t, Klorin. I don’t want to go there for a while, or ever. That place is dangerous.”

Klorin stood up and wrapped his arm around Dacias’s neck. He held him firm as he ground his knuckles in Dacias’s head. “I walked there in a storm for you, and you can’t hang with me and a girl I want to meet up with? Fuck that! You are coming, so just accept it.”

Dacias tried to wiggle free from the hold Klorin had on him. “Ow! Let me go!”

“Ha! Not the tough one now. I’m still older than you.”

Dacias maneuvered from Klorin’s grip, grabbed him by the torso, and slammed him to the ground. “I’m still stronger, big bro.”

Klorin coughed, lying prostrate on the ground. The wind knocked out of him. “Apparently…”

Dacias gripped his hand and helped him up. Klorin spoke as he dusted himself off. “No more moping around the house and feeling sorry for yourself. You are coming to Cupidor.”

Dacias huffed at that. “Are we seeing a certain someone?”

Klorin looked at him out of the corner of his eye. “No. Someone else.”

Dacias took a deep breath. He’d lose it if this were some sort of set-up. “So both our secret Lapistrean love affairs evaporated? We should have known, huh?”

Klorin released a huff. “Yes, well, looks like we both need to down some intoxins and let loose, huh?”

Dacias couldn’t think of anything he’d want to do less than go to Cupidor, but he owed Klorin. He’d do it just this once. Who knows? Maybe he would meet someone else.

18

Chapter 17

Julen

Julen sat in his bedchamber, looking at the wall but not seeing it. His eyes had no tears left. He couldn’t eat. He could barely sleep through the night. He hadn’t left the castle in weeks. His days had become an endless blur of wedding preparation; all he wanted to do was disintegrate.

The piercing pain of a broken heart lingered, but now numbness mixed with it. His body felt suspended between now and nowhere, a specter going through the motions of existence.

In a fortnight, Julen would be married to Glacia. He deserved it. He deserved whatever agony came with that nuptial. He had no desire to escape. Escaping meant freeing himself from the prison Lapistra had become, and he didn’t deserve that. He deserved whatever torment this territory inflicted on him. His deceit ruined his only real shot at love. He wanted to hurt. To feel pain. To feel punished. He did this. He only had himself to blame.

He wanted to exist in darkness. He wanted it all to end.

Julen turned to his mirror. His reflection looked back at him. The years of self-loathing washed over him. He thought he couldn’t cry anymore, but the tears fell. They streamed down his face like a deluge. That sick feeling crept back into his stomach, and his heart broke all over again. He wanted to smash the reflection with his first. Pound against the mirror so he’d neverhave to look at the boy who looked back at him again.

He thought about grabbing a vase and throwing it at the mirror to watch the pieces of himself fall to the floor. Julen quickly turned to the corner of the room where the vase sat. He raced over to grab it, intent on chucking it against that fucking mirror. Maybe he’d destroy everything in his room. Throw every piece of furniture against a wall and watch it all crumble. Perhaps they’d come barging in and see the chaos. The guardians would grab him and lock him away. Then he’d be in the prison he deserved.

He bent over to lift the vase when someone knocked on the door.

“By the Mother Planet…” Julen walked to the door. “Yes?”

One of the servants, Latima, said, “Your Highness. You have a fitting in the guest bedchamber.”

Does it ever end?

He opened the door, and Latima bowed before saying, “Your Highness. Please follow me.”

Julen followed Latima along the corridor to the south wing of the castle. He’d grown accustomed to being dragged this way and that, fulfilling wedding obligations day and night. There was never any notice.

They reached the bedchamber, and Latima held the door open for Julen. He stepped in and saw a woman in a head-to-floor gown wearing a top hat, gloves, and a veil.

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