The bitch was a witch.
She might not have been a bitch exactly, she seemed perfectly nice. And she might not have been a witch either, but Edward had met enough water and celestial creatures in his life to recognize when a fella or a lass were not exactly human.
Her talk of Isla Rhea had chilled him. The Dragon Island was a myth in Aazor. If she knew its name, she was either high among the Nereids or desperate enough to court death itself. Or perhaps Salacia's plant, wearing some poor lass' skin.
And her brother — if that was what he truly was — looked too fragile for the sea. Pale, golden-skinned, fever burning him from within. Lovers, perhaps. Or cursed. They shared little likeness except the intensity with which she hovered over him. Salt spray crowned her dark hair with white flecks, and she looked, to Edward's eye, every inch a Nereid.
Once, in another life, before Neppie, he might have courted such a woman, crowned her queen of the Lioness. But time was irreversible. There was no one else now but Neptune.
Corpse, or not.
"Bring him up!" Edward barked.
"Please, Captain," Milada's voice broke, "Don't do this."Two sailors dragged the limp body into the rain. The crew circled. Bonnie's hand twitched near her blade.
Edward's pistol gleamed as he cocked the hammer. "His name," he demanded. "Or I end him here."
Milada froze. "You said we would sail to Isla Rhea!"
The shot cracked like thunder. "I lied."
The bullet struck the boy's leg. No blood spilled. Instead, the wound rippled like disturbed water — and gold poured out, radiant, molten, impossible.
The crew staggered back, some crossing themselves, some falling to knees. Bonnie's steady voice trembled: "A Celestial…"
Edward exhaled hard, awe and grim certainty warring in his chest. "I fucking knew it."
Milada surged forward, eyes blazing, her face inches from his. "I will end you, Edward Kinsley. I will end you for this."
****
Edward ordered the boy carried below, into his own quarters. He barked for tea, for blankets, for quiet — though his voice wavered more than he liked.
Milada never left her brother's side. She cradled his head in her lap while Bonnie dismissed the attendant and shut the door.
Edward stood, arms crossed, the storm still in his blood. "So," he said, nodding at the unconscious youth, "which one is he? The kleptomaniac, or the prude?"
"I'll kill you!"
"Yes, you've said that already," Edward said, waving his hand around, dismissing her. "You would have done it if you could. But you can't. I don't know why, but I have a few theories."
Edward's laugh was sharp, humorless. "Celestials don't show themselves unless protecting humans, or breaking laws. Which is it, witch?"
"We are called Sensitives," Milada snapped. "Not witches."
"And what danger drags you to Isla Rhea?"
Milada stroked her brother's fevered face, voice softening despite herself. "He is caught in a locked state of becoming. Don't you know how stars die, Captain?"
Edward frowned. "Neptune told me plenty. Of other worlds, of their guardians. Of your race. The celestial siblings. I thought it was just pillowtalk."
Milada ignored his poor attempt at a joke. "Stars burn by drawing fuel inward. But when pressure builds too great, they collapse. Areilycus was caught in the Diamond Storm — a plague on Tripolis. It devours him from within."
Edward's eyes darkened with dawning horror. "Your twin is… the Lord of Light?"
Bonnie blinked twice, furiously rubbing her forehead. "Are you telling me that our stowaway is a being spun from stardust who absorbs a world's suffering?"
"Were you also Neptune's lover?" Milada asked.
"No, of course not–disgusting. He just tells me things," Bonnie bumped Edward in the elbow.
Milada's jaw clenched. "Without him, Tripolis dies."
Edward's hand dragged across his beard.
"And you risk the death of your world — your system — because you cannot bear to lose him?"
Milada met his eyes. "If you could bring Neptune back, wouldn't you at least try?"
Silence hung, broken only by the rasp of Areilycus' breath.
****
Bonnie finally spoke, voice low. "You love him like a brother, but it burns like more."
Milada recoiled, then steadied. "He is my other half. Nothing more. Nothing less."
Edward smirked, though there was no joy in it. "On Valorian soil, that kind of love would be mortal punishment."
"Good thing Valorian has little soil," Bonnie quipped, grinning until Edward laughed with her, brittle and fleeting.
Milada cut across their mirth. "You laugh because you're afraid. Every time I speak Isla Rhea, you look as if I asked you to kill your kin."
Edward's mirth indeed died. His gaze turned hard. "Isla Rhea is a deathtrap. I could not pitch it to my crew without riot."
"Then find me someone who will."
Edward hoped Celestials were poor at detecting lies.