When Stars Die (The Stars Trilogy) (22 page)

I have to stop the alliance, then maybe I can free all of those who never wanted to be part of Purgatory’s plan.

The gazebo comes into view--and with it Oliver. Colette’s statement from yesterday enters my mind. If Oliver really meant to kill me, wouldn’t he have done so already? And what did she mean when she told me that Oliver has to but doesn’t want to? It’s the same with Theosodore: he has to but doesn’t want to. Pulling in a deep breath, my feet crunch through the snow, one step at a time toward Oliver. He turns around and waves me to him. At this moment, I can turn around, run, never look back, pretend I never had anything with him. Yet, those eyes that shine like silver, that pale complexion that makes me think of the alabaster complexions of sculptures, compel me toward him. I can’t throw away what we’ve built for ourselves. I can’t resist him. Colette’s become distant to me.

“Amelia,” Oliver says, holding his arms open for me.

I glide into his embrace, inhaling his wintry sweetness. He breathes me in, rubbing the space between my shoulder blades. He pushes me away and looks deeply into my eyes. “How are you?”

“I--” Colette enters my mind again. I banish her from my mind by disclosing the burning. “Did you know about the burning yesterday? Did you have to attend?” My temper turns childish. “Where were you, Olly? You could have been there for me, even for my brother. You could have taken us from that.” I pause. “Actually, I feel like you could have done something.”

Oliver pulls me to him again and threads his fingers through my hair, which I decided to let hang freely about my shoulders. The weather is too cold to put my hair in a braid or chignon. I couldn’t care less about decorum, either. “I’m sorry, Amelia. What would you expect me to do though? I may have influence in the Professed Order, but that doesn’t mean I can sway Pope Gilford. I am very low on the hierarchy.” He breathes out as he bunches my hair in his hands and presses his cheek against the top of my head. “I stayed in Norbury.”

My voice cracks. “I was blessed that I didn’t see them. I didn’t want to, but the smell…that horrible smell…” Tears leap to my eyes, and I find myself openly sobbing against him. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I didn’t want to cry. I thought I’d be all right if I just kept telling myself that they’ll be back as Shadowmen, that they’ll be unchanged. But their lives were still stolen from them. They were stolen from family, from friends--”

Oliver shushes me. “All of that may be true, Amelia, but I can guarantee you their family and friends stopped loving them when they found out.”

More tears come. “How can you say that? How can people suddenly stop loving?”

He touches his forehead to mine. “I don’t know, Amelia. I really don’t know, but they do because all my friends, anyone who ever knew me, stopped caring when they found out.”

“No one can stop loving a person just like that.”

“It doesn’t matter. Love is supposed to be unconditional. Amelia--” He tips my chin up and puts his lips on mine, his kiss penetrating the frigid sadness deep within me. “--I love you unconditionally.”

Winter feels like summer. In my mind, the snow melts, flowers push through the slush, lush leaves perch on the boughs of the plum trees, and Warbele finds itself in eternal spring. “Y-you love me?”

His eyes are so genuine. These are the same eyes of the boy who helped me clean the latrine, the boy who would sneak treats for Colette and I, the boy who took in Nathaniel as his own brother. This is not the boy who would ever kill me. He would only ever protect me.

Oliver runs his thumb along my jawline and kisses me there. “Of course I do. I should have been there yesterday. It must have been awful. I can’t imagine what you and Natty must have gone through. How is he?”

I turn my back to him and cuddle against him, Oliver wrapping his arms around me and resting his chin on my head. “He couldn’t sleep last night. Father took him to a small chapel to pray, hoping that would help heal him. But he’s young. He’s resilient.”

Oliver pulls me down to the wood flooring of the gazebo, turning me around so that we are eye level with one another. He strokes the side of my face with the back of his hand, sending pleasant shivers that warm my body. “Stay with me, Amelia. Stay with me forever.”

With the way he talks to me, I can’t believe Colette’s words. Maybe the mere process of turning into a Shadowman changed her. I should tell Oliver about what Colette told me, but her words are hollow to me now that I am this close to him. So instead I will tell him about her warning.

“Olly, I met with Colette yesterday during the burning. I’m certain she was the one on the train who gave me that vision, but she told me the Shadowmen Alliance is going to strike Malva any day now. What are we supposed to do about this?”

Oliver pulls me in for another kiss and runs his fingers down my spine. He pulls away, goes to my ear, and whispers, “Amelia, stop worrying about this. I promise you, I will have everything figured out by then. I have allies on my side, a few from Cathedral Reims in fact.”

“We’ll terminate them before they get a chance to strike.”

I open my mouth to reply, but his is already back on mine, deepening our kiss. His tongue pushes against my lips. I open my mouth, joining my tongue with his. The kiss links us in a way I wasn’t certain I’d ever be ready for. Oliver briefly pulls away from me, his voice airy. “I love you, Amelia.”

The natural response should be to reply with the same, but all I can do is kiss him back while trying to bury Colette’s words in an untapped part of my mind. Seeming unperturbed by my lack of response, Oliver has no problem keeping our lips together, our tongues and breath and touch dancing and mingling in ways that should veil me in shame. I push Oliver to the ground and straddle his waist. I look at him, observing the way the sunlight from the snowy sky frames his cheekbones, making him appear manlier. I could just take him right now. No one would know. We’re hidden amongst the naked trees of the plum orchard, the gazebo buried so far back that only those who care to wade through the snow would come.

He’d be mine. No one else’s. He’d be my sin, and for this one moment, I could forget all my feelings and pretend that I’m not doubting Oliver, Colette, or anyone else in this world.

My breathing comes on hot and heavy. I tighten the space between our faces so that the tips of our noses touch. Oliver puts his hands on my back and rubs me, inching his hands down until they cup my bottom. He lets out a sigh, then a small moan. He squeezes me, thrusting his hips forward. He brings his hands to my sides and entwines his fingers in the fabric of my wool gown, and lifts it enough so that his hands snake along my back until they find the laces of my corset. Undoing those, Oliver slips the thing down my ribs, and yanks it off me. I feel like I am now free to breathe, when I’ve held my breath for what feels like eighteen years.

“What do you want?” he asks, running his cold hands along my warm skin and cupping my bare breasts.

I don’t know what I want. My body knows what it wants; yet, I do not. “I don’t know,” I whisper against his neck, letting my lips graze the salty skin. I should be freezing, screaming for the warmth of a fire, especially since Oliver’s skin feels like ice, but the warmth rippling through me will not allow me to feel anything but this moment.

“But do you want this?” he asks, his voice so lost I feel he is only asking me to reassure himself that he isn’t being a depraved fool lusting after a former sister.

“We’ll find out now, won’t we?” It’s true. I won’t know what it’s like until I experience it for myself.

Oliver pulls away from me and grabs my hands, urging me to undo the belt buckle on his black slacks.

My hands develop a mind of their own.

Pants down. Bloomers off. And I don’t say no, even as he pushes me to the ground and takes control.

#

It hurt. A lot. Drops of blood stain the white wood. It wasn’t anything like it was in my dream.

Oliver couldn’t bring that feeling out of me that I woke up with, and I wasn’t even sure how to do it. I don’t even think we knew what we were doing. But here we lay, side-by-side, breathing contended sighs as we bask in the rawness of our beings, the warmth flooding our veins--or mine, at least. Our fingers are entwined, and in a way I feel like I’ve been joined with him because Deus witnessed what we did. Though what we did is supposed to be sinful, I feel relieved of the pressures of life. I don’t have to worry about them as long as Oliver is with me.

How long were we wrapped in each other’s bodies? It’s dark outside, the wintry clouds tucked away for another day. “How many stars do you think are out there?” I ask Oliver, gazing beyond the gazebo.

Oliver pulls me close to him, and I nuzzle against the slickness of his skin, smelling sweat and cold and earth.

“Too many to count,” he says.

“Should we count them?” Counting stars was something I always did with Nathaniel. Back at the grotto in Norbury, we’d lie awake at night counting stars until both of us fell asleep. We never got as far as we wanted, but if we just kept counting, then we could keep living. “I’ve counted a thousand stars already.”

Oliver pulls back, smirking. “Oh, really? How do you know you haven’t counted the same star twice?”

“I don’t know. What does it matter? They go on forever, so counting the same star twice is like counting a star that’s probably out there but you can’t see. Or
, rather, a star that no longer exists. Maybe it’s a new star?”

Oliver kisses my forehead and laughs, buttoning his collared shirt. He is lanky, to say the least, but he is beautiful because there is muscle pushed under that pale skin. He is just right though: not too muscular, but not too frail.

“I should probably get going,” I tell him, remembering that I must meet with Colette.

I go to stand, but Oliver grabs my wrist. “There’s something bothering you, Amelia. You’re really good at hiding your feelings, even from yourself, but you can’t fool me.”

I pull my wrist away. “Nothing’s wrong.”

Oliver sits up. The moonlight accentuates the sharp angles of his face. “No. Something is wrong with you, and I want to know what it is.”

“Olly, I’d rather not think about anything right now.” For the moment, I want to forget what Colette told me and let myself enjoy this euphoria, however short it may last. I’ll deal with those tumultuous feelings later.

“But it’s bothering you, Amelia. You know that I’m not fond of people shirking their problems for a later time.”

I pull my bloomers up, hissing as a sharp pain races through my groin. Oliver will not let up until I give him something to go by. My mind grasps for something else it could be upset at, something that isn’t as stressful as Colette, and I do find something to say. “It bothers me how lax you are about the Shadowmen, Olly. I desperately want to help you, but you keep pushing me away. I understand you want to protect me, but if you die Olly, that’s it for you. If I die, at least I’ll come back as a Shadowman.”

Even through the burgeoning darkness of the night, I can make out the sharp intensity that makes his silver eyes seem piercing. “It’s too dangerous, Amelia. Far too dangerous.”

“You keep saying that, Olly, but that just makes me feel helpless, and I hate that. Why don’t you teach me how to control my fire then? Why don’t you give me a means to protect myself? If I have that, then you’ll have a reason to worry about me less.”

He purses his lips, folding his arms across his broad chest. “Amelia, no. I’ve kept the Shadowmen away from you this long, I can continue doing so. Asch hasn’t bothered you since that day, has he?” I shake my head. “Good. Then there is no reason for me to teach you how to control something that could get you caught. Everything is going to be all right in the end, Amelia. You have to trust me.”

I want to trust him, I do. “Olly, no matter how much I trust you, that doesn’t keep me from feeling vulnerable. I don’t understand why you wouldn’t want to teach me to protect myself. The Shadowmen are leaving me alone for now, but you can’t possibly protect me from every single one. That’s impossible, no matter how beautiful or brilliant your magic is.”

Oliver sighs, smearing his hands down his face. “I just can’t, Amelia. You have to trust me.”

I turn away from him and leave, the pleasant heat within me rising to a searing boil. “You know, Olly, you’re not giving me a reason to trust you. If anything, you’re giving me a reason to doubt you.”

Colette’s warning takes its effect on me, and I hasten down the steps, Oliver’s calling my name a mere echo in the wintry air.

Chapter Twenty-Two

The sky is an inky black, the only light from a sliver of moon and the scatter of stars. The cold should cut through me, but my blood has turned to ice. Part of my heart is still warm, though, and feeling raw doubt that lingers on the cusp. If Oliver won’t teach me, then I’m certain Colette will. She has no reason not to, unless she is wrapped in conspiracy with Oliver to keep me from ever exploring my true potential. It’s nonsense, keeping me vulnerable and helpless. I can’t imagine why Oliver would want me that way, and I don’t even want to think about it.

The bleating of goats meets my ears, assuring me I haven’t lost my way. The barns come into full view, and their straw and mold smell, taking me back to the days when Colette and I would clean them together. There’s a barn at the corner of the north transept, a single, solitary one for horses. Colette loves horses, which is probably why she suggested this particular one. She tried to teach me to ride horses my first month here, but I was either bucked off or kicked.