Page 179 of Blood of the Stars

But there were other memories too. Moments she’d been frightened or sad and the flowers had sprouted—even in the dead of winter. He’d never seen magic in a child so young, hadn’t known it was possible. Still wasn’t sure how such a thing could happen. But he’d known then that she was special, and he knew it even more now.

As her shoulders shuddered, his guilt rose to the surface. Maybe he should use this opportunity to tell her about his parents sending him to her family with a spy.

He glanced back at the camp and saw Orra sitting serenely at its edge, her leg bandaged and eyes closed, lips curved up in a secretive smile. “It’s like the ripples,” he whispered, finally catching on to what Orra had been suggesting.

“What?”

“Our choices affect others,” he said, “but there could be good effects as well as bad ones. And there were choices made before we were here that affected us, too. Each choice ripples out to touch the people and things in its path. When I was home, I found out my parents sent me to Celanoft for my dedication year so my servant could spy on your family.”

Her face blanched, so he rushed on.

“My parents’ decision resulted in a terrible outcome, one that I will always feel responsible for just like you’re carrying a weight you’re not meant to bear. Think of the good that still came from my dedication year. I met you.” Bolstered by his words, he reached for her hand, wrapping it tight within his. “And I spent my life searching for you instead of taking part in my family’s tyranny.”

“It’s hard to see what good can come from Durriken being branded again.” She bit her lip, her gaze on their hands.

“All we can do is keep trying,” Gaeren said, the reminder as much for himself as it was for her. “Keep moving forward. We make the best choice that lies right in front of us.” He squeezed her hand and she squeezed his back.

“Thank you, Gaeren,” she whispered.

The mark of his bond burned between their palms, but he hardly noticed.

CHAPTER 73

Aeliana hesitated before stepping back into the tent. All the newcomers had been checked by Kendalyhn and offered food, and now Sylmar was eager to finalize their rescue plan. He wanted her there, but she couldn’t help feeling she didn’t belong.

She was more likely to throw her mother into shock than help bring her out of her branded stupor. Or she might go into shock herself. Sure, she could throw up some light shields, maybe shoot an arrow and throw a dagger, but this was war. As much as she wanted to do her part, she worried she was more of a liability.

An elbow poked her rib, and Aeliana turned to find Iris nudging her farther in.

“Sylmar won’t be happy if we’re late.”

Over a dozen men and women gathered in the tent, most around a small table, which was more like four logs resting on tree stumps. A map stretched across its surface, rocks keeping it from rolling up. Torchlight revealed several familiar faces, and Aeliana’s tense muscles loosened.

Cyrus, Kendalyhn, and Lukai huddled over the map, tracing lines with their fingers while Sylmar shook his head. Larkos and Riveran watched from a dark corner while Marnok stood by two strangers in uniforms, one balding with a hooked nose and the other with hair reaching his shoulders—the longest Aeliana had seen on a Vendaran. Marnok gestured from them to his face, talking emphatically while the men shrugged. Velden’s, Holm’s, and Jasperus’ backs had faced her as they bent over the map, but with the opening of the tent flap, they turned.

“Should she be here?” the bald soldier asked, his attention leaving Marnok to focus on Sylmar.

“She has the most to lose in this battle,” Sylmar said.

“And the most to gain,” the second soldier said.

“I’m here to make sure Sylmar has a plan that factors in the risks of bringing me along.” Aeliana understood their apprehension. She’d felt it every day of this journey when it seemed like no one else had. But now that someone else voiced it, the sting struck deeper. Were they all thinking she was untrustworthy? Was this man the only one willing to speak up?

“She looks and sounds like Mayvus,” the bald soldier said in disgust.

“She looks like her mother,” Jasperus argued.

“Who looks like Mayvus,” the first man pointed out.

“She looks and sounds nothing like Mayvus.” Gaeren left the shadows near Riveran and Larkos and stepped closer to her side, his hand on the hilt of his sword.

Aeliana couldn’t help the relief flooding through her. She hadn’t realized until now that it was his face she’d been searching for, his reassuring presence. One glance at Lukai’s passive expression put it all in perspective. She trusted Gaeren to passionately support her, but she also trusted him to passionately disagree with her. When he spoke encouraging words, it wasn’t because of a bond—it was because he meant them.

“Mayvus’ hair has more gold,” Gaeren continued. “Her jaw is broader, and her right ear is higher than her left. She tilts her chin up so high you can see the hair in her nostrils, and she makes an awful noise in the back of her throat every so often, like she might hack up her dinner.”

He lifted his chin at a ridiculous angle while snorting and coughing until Aeliana thought he might gag. He stopped in front of Aeliana.

“And when her eyes bore into yours”—Gaeren’s look shifted to a smolder so fast that Aeliana’s heart pounded and her palms sweat—“you assume she might kill you on the spot.”

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