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Bryce’s gaze lifted to the sword hilt peeking above the warrior’s shoulder. “With that?”
Nesta just said, “Its name is Ataraxia.”
“That’s an Old Language word.” Nesta nodded. Bryce murmured, “Inner Peace—that’s your sword’s name?”
“Lanthys laughed when he heard it, too.”
“I’m not laughing,” Bryce said, meeting the female’s stare.
She found nothing but open curiosity on Nesta’s face. Nesta said, “The scar your light comes from … it’s shaped like an eight-pointed star. Why?”
Bryce peered at where the light was muffled by her T-shirt. “It’s the symbol of the Starborn, I think.”
“And the magic marked you in this way?”
“Yes. When I … revealed who I was, what I am, to the world, I drew the star out of my chest. It left that scar in its wake.” She glanced to Azriel. “Like a burn.”
His face was an unreadable mask. But Nesta asked, “So you have a star within you? An actual star?”
Bryce shrugged with one shoulder. “Yeah? I mean, not literally. It’s not like a giant ball of gas spinning in space. But it’s starlight.”
Nesta didn’t seem particularly impressed. “And you said these Asteri of yours … they also have stars within them?”
Bryce winced. “Yes.”
“So what’s the difference between you and them?” Nesta asked.
“Aside from the fact that I’m not an intergalactic colonialist creep?”
She could have sworn Nesta’s mouth kicked up at a corner. That Azriel chuckled, the sound soft as shadow. “Right,” Nesta said.
“I, uh … I don’t know.” Bryce considered. “I never really thought about it. But …” Those final moments running from Rigelus flashed in her memory, the bursts of his power rupturing marble and glass, searing past her cheek—
“My light is just that,” Bryce said. “Light. The Asteri claim their powers are from holy stars inside themselves, but they can physically manipulate things with that light. Kill and destroy. Is starlight that can shatter rock actually light? Everything they’ve told us is basically a lie, so it’s possible they don’t have stars inside them at all—that it’s merely bright magic that looks like a star, and they called it a holy star to wow everyone.”
Azriel said, wings rustling, “Does it matter what their power is called, then?”
“No,” Nesta admitted. “I was only curious.”
Bryce chewed on her lip. What was the Asteri’s power? Or hers? Hers was light, but perhaps theirs was actually the brute force of a star—a sun. So hot and strong it could destroy all in its path. It wasn’t a comforting thought, so Bryce asked Nesta, in need of a new subject, “What kind of sword is that, anyway?” Its simple, ordinary hilt jutted above Nesta’s shoulder.
“One that can kill the unkillable,” Nesta answered.
“So is the Starsword,” Bryce said quietly, then nodded to Azriel’s side. “Can your dagger kill the unkillable, too?”
“It’s called Truth-Teller,” he said in that soft voice, like shadows given sound. “And no, it cannot.”
Bryce arched a brow. “So does it … tell the truth?”
A hint of a smile, more chilling than the frigid air around them. “It gets people to do so.”
Bryce might have shuddered had she not caught Nesta rolling her eyes. It gave her enough courage to dare ask the winged warrior, “Where did the dagger come from?”
Azriel’s hazel eyes held nothing but cool wariness. “Why do you want to know?”
“Because the Starsword”—she motioned to the blade he had down his back—“sings to it. I know you’re feeling it, too.” Let it be out in the open. “It’s driving you nuts, right?” Bryce pushed. “And it gets worse when I’m near.”
Azriel’s face again revealed nothing.
