CHAPTER THREE

Illumination

     "And you're sure we can trust her? Doesn't seem very trustworthy to me."

"I can assure you, she is more trustworthy than you will ever know."

"And why is that? Tell us, Sturmhond, how are we expected to put our lives in the hands of this stranger who just passed out for no reason?"

Estelle cleared her dry throat, opening her eyes slightly. She was in what used to be the healer's quarters of Sturmhond's ship, which was now used as a room for Tamar. Surrounding her in the cramped space were the privateer himself, the twins, Ana, Alina, and Mal.

"You can trust me," she promised Mal, whose face was an array of anger and cynicism.

"What, and we're supposed to trust you when you say to trust you?" he scoffed. "This is ridiculous, we should leave, Alina. Go back to the Southern Colonies, away from all of this."

Estelle's head was pounding, but she managed to sit up in the cot she was on. "You can trust me because I hate the Darkling just as much as you do. I'm just like you, Alina."

The girl frowned. "What do you mean? You're...a Sun Summoner?"

"Close, but no." Estelle glanced at Sturmhond, who shrugged as if to say, Your secret to tell, not mine. "I'm like you because I'm a one of a kind Summoner. I'm a Star Summoner."

The silence inside the cabin was suffocating. Estelle held her throbbing head with her hand and it came back slick with just a little bit of blood. She must've hit her head when she fell.

The blood reminded her of the Darkling. His cruel eyes, the sinister smirk that was so different from the one she craved. She was never going to escape him. Her fate had been sealed the moment she took his hand and climbed into his dark coach all those years ago.

"Excuse me, what?" said Alina, bringing Estelle out of her thoughts. The look on her face was incredulous. "You're joking."

"I'm afraid not," Estelle replied, sighing. "I was pulled in by the Darkling, the very same way he pulled you in. We were only pawns in his game. That's why you can trust me. Because I would rather die than help him."

Alina glanced at Mal. They were the only two in the cabin who didn't know her secret. The others had only found out by fate, an accident that had saved their lives.

"Can you prove it?" Alina asked. "Not your trustworthiness. That you are what you say. A Star Summoner."

Estelle gulped down her fear. She knew that she'd need proof, and for that to happen, she needed to use her powers. The only thing was, she hadn't used them in months.

Sturmhond opened his mouth, almost as if to oppose. He knew very well why she hadn't summoned since the job. Estelle shook her head at him. "It's okay," she said quietly.

"You're sure?" he asked.

She gave him a small smile to reassure him and took a deep breath to center herself. There was a small crack of moonlight streaming through a small window, a sliver of sweet silver lumination that filled Estelle with energy. Her veins thrummed with power, a power she'd pushed away for too long. It was like drinking in a concoction so powerful, it made her feel like she could take on the world.

Estelle opened her eyes. Tendrils of sparkling white light filled the room, brightening everyone's eyes who looked at them. No matter how familiar she was with this starlight, Estelle could never look away. She held out her hand, and many rushed towards it, though only one won against its siblings.

The coil of light twisted around her fingers playfully, forming into a jackal that nipped at her skin. It ran up her arm and back down the other in glee, waiting for her in her palm. A smile crept its way on her face. Softly, Estelle blew it away, the tendril dissolving to join the others.

She'd missed this. The beautiful moments that she created all by herself. This didn't come from the Darkling or anyone else. This was her.

If she had to be honest, she wasn't completely sure what she was afraid of if she called the starlight. Did she think she would have a flashback? Freak out? Hurt someone in the process?

All could have been possible.

She slowly closed her fists and the starlight slithered back through the window. The expressions of her companions varied from shock to awe.

Sturmhond was the first to break the silence. "So. Who would like to share a drink with me?"

—

"Is your solution to everything whiskey?"

Sturmhond grinned, taking a sip from his glass, the windy night air tousling his hair. "One of the few. What's yours?"

Staring out at the darkened horizon, she gulped down some of the whiskey. "Running, apparently."

Running from her past, running from the Darkling, running from everything.

It was time to stop running, even if it was going to be one way or another.

"You're brave."

Estelle looked up at the privateer in shock of his sudden statement. He wasn't looking at her, instead leaning against the rail with his green eyes focused on the sea.

"You didn't have to come all this way, risking your life just to help get rid of the Darkling," he mused. "And yet you did."

"Do you want to know why?" Sturmhond turned to look at her, waiting for her answer. "Because even though he traumatized me to no end, I would never wish that upon anyone else, even if it meant I could live a life of peace."

He drank the rest of his whiskey, refusing to break eye contact. "You're sure it wasn't for me?"

Estelle laughed, the sounds filling the empty washing of the waves. "That's just an added bonus." She bit the inside of her cheek, turning her gaze back to the horizon. "Thank you, though."

"For what?"

"For not telling them."

He shrugged. "It wasn't my secret to tell."

Even if it wasn't, she could name dozens of people who wouldn't hesitate to let a few slip for some money. Or maybe even just for fun.

"What happens if your plans don't turn out like you expect?" Estelle asked. "Vasily doesn't give up the throne, the Darkling finds us before, dozens of other things?"

Sturmhond raised an eyebrow. "Is it wise to speak so openly among some of our crew who aren't aware of such plans?"

"You're talking so regal, it almost makes me believe that you really are a prince under that privateer disguise," she said, smirking.

"You wound me," he replied with false offense.

"Hopefully not in the face."

"Why? Because it's my best feature?"

"Because then I'd have to look at it for the rest of my days."

Two friends united, pushed down feelings resurfaced, an age-old Darkling in pursuit of two mythical Summoners, nothing could possibly go too wrong.

Right?

Oh, if only.