Page 135 of Blood of the Stars

“They were using blood magic,” she finished for him, tensing, wondering what he thought of the scars. He already treated her like glass, which was more insulting than comforting. She didn’t want his pity on top of being sheltered.

“Do you still use it?” he asked.

“Still?” The word came out choked. Stars. Who had told him that? Probably Kendalyhn. “No. I mean, I don’t want to. I don’t try to.” She clamped her jaw down and let him assume the rest.

“So it’s never appealed to you?”

She whipped her head to fully face him, their proximity unsettling. His eyes sparked with interest, but she couldn’t tell if it was the glint of gossip or genuine curiosity. “Of course not.”

“Hmph.” He turned to face the wetlands once more. “You’re lying,” he murmured, his smirk evidence that, if she was lying, he wasn’t put out by it.

Her face burned. It hadn’t felt like a lie when she’d said it, but she supposed it wasn’t the full truth. “Are you using magic on me?”

He shrugged. “It’s my secondary spoke. I’m not very good at it, and we have to be touching. But anyone could have seen you didn’t even believe that statement yourself.”

She scooted away, thankful for any reason to reduce their contact. Even if sharp branches dug into her other side.

“I’ve been watching you practice,” he went on, “and I’ve been thinking about it. You can’t help who raised you. If you were raised with blood magic, if their desire spilled over to you, it’s actually more impressive that you fought it. That you rose above it.”

This time, the smile he offered was apologetic, maybe for using his magic on her without permission, but she suspected it went deeper than that. That he was apologizing for how she’d ended up being raised by half-lights using blood magic. That he still felt responsible.

“That’s a surprisingly understanding perspective. Especially from someone like you.”

He burst out laughing, and several birds flew from the tree they’d camped under. Gullet squawked his irritation from his perch a few trees over.

“Someone like me? What did I ever do to make you hate me so much?”

She couldn’t help smiling even though the answer came quick enough. “You let Felk think he hurt me to chase him away. You condemned a possibly innocent dragon. How do you know Durriken wasn’t fighting his brand, that he wasn’t trying to rise above Mayvus’ commands?”

Gaeren sighed and trained his attention back on the creek. Not that they had much hope of finding anything after how loud he’d been. “I guess I don’t know. But I wasn’t about to risk your life to find out.” His words carried the weight of a responsibility Aeliana didn’t understand. Still, it made her want to be worthy of it.

“I spent a lot of time at the Stargazers,” she murmured.

He shot her a questioning glance.

“I suppose that’s why I never wanted to use blood magic. The servants of the Stars in each town we lived in had more of a hand in raising me than my guardians.” She set her bow and arrow against the tree root and rubbed at her scars, hating the way the memories churned within her.

“So you worship the Stars like Cyrus?” Wariness colored his tone, reminding Aeliana of Orra’s story. Only witches worshiped the Stars in Vendaras.

“That’s all anyone in Lorvandas worships. I haven’t had time to examine my faith since I crossed the barrier, but I’m not a witch.”

He hummed his understanding.

It gave her courage to continue. “The first time Arvid and Vera cut me, I thought it was wrong, so I sought forgiveness from the Stars. Every time they took my blood, I took to the Stargazer and prayed for forgiveness. I’m not sure the Stars still offered forgiveness after all my guardians did with my blood, but it didn’t stop me from hoping, from asking for it anyway.” Her throat grew tight. She wasn’t sure why she’d shared that with him. She hadn’t even explained it to Cyrus, who seemed bent on drawing her into his own time of worship and prayer.

Gaeren reached over and ran a calloused finger along her scars, and her breath caught at his touch. She hadn’t expected a prince to have rough hands, but then he was also supposed to be a sailor. The way he traced each rise of skin left her feeling exposed.

“Why don’t you heal them? Now that you have magic to smooth them away.”

For a moment, the silly fear that he found them ugly rushed through her, but she didn’t care what he thought. “Sometimes scars are best left as reminders. They show us our weaknesses to help us grow stronger.”

His hand stilled over her palm, the warmth of his touch like fire even in the muggy heat of the wetlands. He gave her hand a squeeze before finally letting go. “Sometimes the scars that can’t be seen end up as unwelcome reminders. Orra would say I was never meant to protect you. That you needed this ripple to prepare you for the challenges ahead.”

Goosebumps rose with the loss of his warmth. His strange words still rang true—something she might not have said a few months ago. “She’s probably right. I never wanted any of this. But it seems as if the Stars have a purpose in it.”

He grinned, and for once the arrogant tilt seemed playful instead of haughty. “Or maybe the Sun. How much do you want to bet that I can convert Cyrus before we reach the Myndren Mountains?”

Aeliana snorted. “He’s too devout. Haven’t you seen the way he watches Orra?”

---