Page 210 of Blood of the Stars

Mayvus was nowhere in sight.

The others joined her on the balcony naturally formed by the rock wall. Its surface was larger than she’d anticipated, maybe one hundred feet by one hundred feet, but a dead end nonetheless. The breeze picked up into a wind that whipped loose strands from Aeliana’s braid into her face. She strode to the walled edge on the southern side but didn’t need to lean out to see the desperation of their situation. The surrounding forest was like a small grass field. Beyond the trees a tiny strip of beach represented their morning trek. The view made her dizzy, and she reached out to grip the stone of the balcony’s balustrade.

“If we can’t go down, maybe we can go up,” Cyrus said, his eyes riveted on the cliff wall behind them to the north, a thoughtful look on his face. The way up to the heights of the Myndren Mountains was closer than the way down.

“Proper equipment and the strength of our best day would still only give us slim chances of scaling that wall.” Velden hacked at the smooth, hard stone with his sword as if to illustrate his point. The stone remained flawless. “Besides, we have to find the vial before we can escape.”

The tip of the Sun sank below the horizon.

Dusk.

Aeliana closed her eyes, wishing she were a pneumatic who could see the future, even wishing she were already branded so she could sense Mayvus in some way. Lead her companions to her. The distant rush of air met her ears, and she hushed her companions, who were already silent.

As it grew louder, she turned in a full circle, honing in on the direction it came from. When she opened her eyes, she was facing west, but nothing had changed. She squinted past the black rock wall still bordering them on the right, angling to see where the wall turned beyond the balcony and what else might be up in these mountains. Just as she opened her mouth to warn the others, fire erupted from the side, flashing out to hit the wall, nearly reaching them.

The others all dropped, but Aeliana stepped forward, waiting for Durriken to round the wall’s edge. When he did, a rush of air blew over Aeliana with the flap of his glorious purple wings. His eyes widened, and he slowed his approach.

A woman sat on his back, her long white dress almost a mirror image of her mother’s, but where her mother’s was soiled and torn, Mayvus’ was pristine. The exposed skin of her arms held dozens of welts—marks of her brands. Durriken perched on the balcony’s western edge, his wings nearly hitting Aeliana as he kept himself mostly still in flight, the stones beneath his paws already breaking off from the little weight he put on them.

Mayvus slid from his back, lifting her chin and peering down her nose with dark eyes. She turned back to Durriken, whispering some sort of instruction too low for the others to hear. Durriken’s wings flapped harder as he rose, then he dove toward the lower levels of the fortress.

Aeliana swallowed hard, hoping most of their people had already retreated toward camp. She tightened her grip on the vial of blood, debating if she should go ahead and brand him anyway. How many lives could she save by contradicting Mayvus’ orders? Except it was blood magic. Blood magic that would summon dark spirits.

Mayvus cleared her throat.

The noise reminded Aeliana of Gaeren’s unflattering description of Mayvus as a witch. She smiled and stood straighter, drawing Mayvus’ attention.

“All this trouble,” Mayvus said. “Caused by you.”

“Hello, Auntie Mayvus,” Aeliana said, grateful her voice didn’t shake like her hands, which she kept pressed against her sides even as she tightened her grip on her dagger.

Mayvus grimaced, then glanced beyond Aeliana. “I see you’ve found your mother. I’ve taken good care of her over the years. You’re welcome.”

Her mother snorted. “You’ve taken care of yourself.”

Mayvus quirked one eyebrow, her slow steps toward Aeliana more nerve-wracking than if she’d charged. “One might argue the two go hand in hand.”

Feet pounded from behind them, and Sylmar and Gaeren rushed out from Mayvus’ rooms. Sylmar’s face reached a shade of red so dark it was almost purple, his scars standing out white.

“We’ve come for Aeliana’s blood,” he said.

Mayvus paused, her gaze resting on Sylmar. “Is that all you’ve come for? I know the way your mind works, dear. You never settle for less than everything.”

“Things have changed,” Sylmar said. “I’ve changed.”

She laughed, but before she could respond, Sylmar’s staff shifted to fiery blades that shot out toward Mayvus. So much for going after the blood first.

Aeliana winced in anticipation of the blood and screams, but the blades froze in the air, a handsbreadth from Mayvus’ face and torso. Their tips turned a pale blue as icicles formed on their edges, and they all clattered to the ground, smashing into dozens of pieces.

Aeliana’s mouth hung open, her mother’s warning coming back to her. Mayvus had far more power than they’d realized. Even Sylmar’s face showed defeat as he leaned heavily on Gaeren.

Aeliana narrowed her eyes at both men, the sheen of sweat covering their skin, their shaking limbs. What had they done back in the tower? How much magic had they already used?

“I’ll forgive that less-than-appreciative welcome if we can come to a quick agreement.” Mayvus smoothed down her dress, her hands showing no weakness over the previous display. “You all surrender, and no one gets hurt. I have no reason to want you dead. I want my niece by my side and the Prince of Elanesse as my ally.” She smiled sweetly at Gaeren.

“I’m no friend of yours.” He spat on the stone floor and wiped his mouth.

Aeliana’s chest swelled at his show of defiance until she noticed the blood on his hand and cheek. His gaze bore into hers as if desperate to tell her something. Hopefully that he was ready to follow through.

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