Page 134 of Blood of the Stars

“I’ve never heard of the Star being killed.” Skepticism tainted Jasperus’ words. “I’ve always heard that King Melchinek died young, but it was because he’d been sickly all his life.”

Everyone turned to Orra, who blinked as if something was caught in her lashes. “Queen Amaya communed with a handful of Stars.”

Everyone leaned forward to catch her quiet words.

“Andreas and Lucian—even Reyna. King Melchinek grew jealous of both the time she spent with them and the power they displayed. Witches convinced him that Lucian’s death would release his power, but they tricked Melchinek. That night, the people were too busy mourning their king to notice not a single Star danced in the sky.

“As far as I know, that’s the last time the Stars came to the earth—not to commune, but to ground themselves from the skies. It was a fast from the Sun’s light in order to mourn the loss of Lucian.” Orra’s eyes were bright with unshed tears. She excused herself from the fire, leaving everyone to contemplate both the accuracy and the meaning of her story.

No one spoke as the fire crackled.

Winex howled in the distance, making Aeliana wonder how Felk was faring and if he’d found a pack. A twinge of remorse nagged at her, and she glanced at Gaeren, studying his unusually sober profile as he stared into the fire. If she could give second chances to dragons and winex, she should be able to give them to a man.

Especially one who had initially shown up to protect her.

She glanced over at the other Vendarans, who’d slowly begun warming up to her once more after Felk had run away. They were still allies—friends, even—but the realization that they’d kept this secret from her stung. How could she trust them to be looking out for her best interests if they couldn’t tell her the whole truth?

She understood it. As long as she was a potential brand for Mayvus, she was a liability. The less she knew, the better. But the truth about her identity wasn’t something they needed to keep from Mayvus.

Mayvus already knew.

“I’m surprised Sylmar let us go.” Gaeren spoke over his shoulder, but Aeliana could still hear the smirk in his voice. It was the only way he knew how to smile, like he was always laughing at everyone.

They trekked down a path that might have once been a run-off from melting snow. The Sun was just starting to rise, and its golden glow reflected off the thin creek ahead. Gullet flew from tree to tree, his beady eyes scanning the forest floor.

“He probably had someone follow us,” Aeliana said. None of them fully trusted the Prince of Elanesse, especially after Orra’s enlightening story.

“I think someone’s been following us for a while now,” he said. “Velden goes out each night and comes back to report to Sylmar.”

Aeliana stilled. “You think they’re checking on Felk?”

“Maybe.” Gaeren eyed a tree with a twisted trunk as if he might climb it for a bird’s-eye view. He settled himself behind one of the curved roots popping out from the ground. “But Velden was doing that before Felk left.”

He gestured for her to join him on the ground, but she hesitated. The space was large enough for two if they squished. Could she even aim properly if they sat that close?

“Come on,” he whispered. “I’m only half-winex. I won’t bite until the moon is full.” He bared his teeth before winking at her.

She crouched behind the same root, hunching until they were shoulder to shoulder and hidden by low-hanging branches. She awkwardly rearranged her bow and readied an arrow, painfully aware of each time her arm rubbed against Gaeren’s. He set his bow on the ground behind them as if he had no intention to hunt.

She frowned, glancing back in the direction of camp, wishing there had been a way out of this. The hills behind them rose upward, the redwood and maple forests they’d traveled thick with foliage, hiding any chance of seeing the others. She settled back in, forcing herself not to jerk away when Gaeren’s leg settled against hers. The path before them opened up to something similar to the grasslands she’d seen on the way to Islara. Except this grass had murky areas where the creek seemed to bleed out into the lower land. The thick air was filled with the buzz of insects and the trill of birds waking with the Sun.

“There’s probably a hundred species of frogs down there that you’ve never seen before,” Gaeren whispered.

“Frogs?” Aeliana followed his gaze. “I thought we were looking for antelope.”

He chuckled, then pressed his lips together, cutting off the sound. “I suppose you’re not interested in catching frogs anymore.” His tone turned wistful, and Aeliana’s curiosity flared.

“You said I caught tadpoles.” She spoke slowly as his words came back to her. “And you taught me to swim?”

He nodded, then pulled out his dagger, twirling it in his hands so the etched daisy blurred. “Even though the beach was close, we weren’t allowed to go to it very often. We swam in the creek instead. You liked to pretend you were Sayhleen.” His smile turned softer, the curved edges no longer a smirk.

A thousand questions rose to her mind, but they all felt too personal to ask a near stranger, even if he claimed they’d once been friends. She’d despised him when he’d wanted Durriken dead and when he’d driven away Felk, but now, when knowledge of their family history gave her more reason to hate him, she found herself wanting to give him a chance—hoping he might still give her a chance.

Amidst her swirling thoughts, one question rose to the surface. “What did you see when I disappeared?”

He stopped twirling the dagger, and his jaw clenched. “Your mother was fighting with a woman, probably Mayvus. I didn’t know they were sisters back then.” His eyes held an accusing glint, as if Aeliana had been the one to keep that secret. “Another woman and man guarded your father. You ran to him, and he used a golden arrow to escape, only the man and woman escaped with you. I knew your father didn’t have magic, and they were using…” He trailed off, his eyes straying to her hands.

Instinct made her grip the bow and arrow tighter, but she couldn’t hide all her scars. She let him take in the ugly white lines bleeding out from her palms.

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