Page 101 of Blood of the Stars

He hesitated, and for a moment she thought she’d won.

“Yes, we’ll need you to help rescue her from herself, but first the rest of us will rescue her from Mayvus. If seeing you safe and sound away from the Myndren Mountains doesn’t recenter her, seeing you in Mayvus’ lair certainly won’t.”

Aeliana scowled but had no argument. Especially when she had so little to offer. Sylmar and Velden concluded she was nearly weaned, but she wasn’t so sure. Her pain was minimal and only present near the Sun’s sleep, but she sensed herself holding back. When the other progenies practiced, they only did so during the day, draining their reserves and letting the Sun replenish them. She trained at night and never felt herself scraping the bottom of her blood’s energy. Not since the night when the sprites had forced her to save Cyrus.

She constantly feared she might use too much.

Still, she sensed her power more clearly—when it was running low or building too high. With the increase in control came confidence and even eagerness. Instead of fearing her power, she wanted to understand its limits. She wanted to know how she could use it to help the others save her mother and get back the golden arrow.

Lukai left the fire and cautiously approached. “Does that frown mean you’re ready for combat?”

Sylmar grunted as he stood. “It means she’s not getting anywhere with me. She’s all yours.”

Lukai grinned and held out a hand. The moment he pulled her up and against his side, she felt a blade at her waist.

“What did I tell you about always being prepared to defend yourself?” he whispered. Her bond mark warmed along with his breath on her neck.

“I believe you said something along the lines of ‘assume every Vendaran is out to kill you, except for me.’”

He stepped away, the loss of his heat making Aeliana shiver.

“Hmm, I take that back. Assume every Vendaran is out to kill you, including me.”

She raised her eyebrows, then pulled a heavy dagger from her belt. He’d instructed her to wear it all the time, to get used to its weight and to practice removing it in one fluid motion.

“Again. Faster,” he said.

They moved through several defensive maneuvers before Lukai called over Cyrus and then Jasperus, having her practice on them while he watched.

She preferred his hands-on approach—until it came time for magic.

“Let’s see how you do at healing tonight.” Lukai held out a hand, slicing his palm with a knife.

He and Aeliana both winced. He claimed he was able to numb his pain for their practice, but with every flinch, Aeliana wondered if he lied to keep her from worrying. The ability to heal was coming easier, but the sight of his injuries only became harder to stomach. And still, the starblood called to her.

“This time try to do it without touching me.”

She sighed, knowing it would take longer, if she could even do it at all. But she pulled on the energy from her starlock, drawing it into her body, letting it spread out. When the pressure became too much, she focused on Lukai’s arm, as if there were a thread of energy connecting her hand to his skin. This was where she often failed. Without the physical contact, sometimes the connection was never made.

Or worse, sometimes she connected to his starblood. He always sensed the change, describing it like a coolness opposite the starlock’s heat. She began sensing it too, which made it easier to reverse directions and find the starlock’s heat once more. At first she’d been embarrassed, but he never once berated her for the wrongness of it.

She did that enough to herself.

“There you go.” Lukai grinned even though his arm continued bleeding out. She hated the sight of his blood even more than Cyrus’. It poured down his arm, practically begging for her to draw in its power to supplement her own. Healing Cyrus was faster, because with Lukai, instead of adjusting his body with all her focus, she had to reserve some of her power for resisting the temptation of blood magic. Or at least for maintaining awareness so she didn’t accidentally use it.

She adjusted his tissue, sensing it beneath his skin as it reconnected. She hadn’t hurt anyone since Kendalyhn, and she no longer had the sense that there was this wildness inside her, waiting to crawl out, but that didn’t mean she’d never see the dark spirits again. It didn’t mean she’d never lose control.

“You’re getting so much better at this.” Lukai ran a finger over her poorly crafted seam on his skin, smoothing it out. The dried blood remained along with its distracting pull, so when he leaned in, her reaction time was too slow.

Aeliana pulled out her dagger, her grip slippery with sweat after the complicated adjustments she’d done. Lukai would probably make her practice a hundred times more after this embarrassing display. She fumbled to angle it toward his waist, then gasped as his eyes went wide, his body still. The point of her dagger rested a hair from his rib.

“I was—I’m giving you a hug.” Lukai’s laugh came out strained.

“Oh.” Aeliana let her hand drop. They stared at each other for a moment, and Lukai leaned in again, wrapping his arms around her shoulders and bending until their cheeks brushed. There was a rightness to the warmth of his body against hers, but there was also an awkwardness. She didn’t know where to put her hands, especially since one still held a dagger. Sylmar and Lukai hadn’t trained her on what to do when the enemy gave a hug instead of a swipe.

“Good work,” he whispered. “And next time I’ll warn you so I don’t get stabbed.” He pulled away, his lips lifting in a teasing smile. Her breath hitched as the blue of his eyes seemed to expand until they were the sky before her, the firelight’s distant reflection like the Stars doing their dance.

When his gaze dropped to her lips, the fire in her belly grew larger, threatening to rise to her chest.

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