Page 162 of Blood of the Stars

Lukai and Aeliana paused in indecision, but it hadn’t been first blood. Aeliana couldn’t let that count for Sylmar. She crouched low once more, and Lukai’s grin returned.

“That’s right. Wyndrens never quit,” he said.

Sylmar turned back, but Aeliana didn’t have a chance to evaluate his expression. She let her weight shift to the balls of her feet, dancing to the left then right, her eyes never leaving Lukai’s. They remained evenly matched, drawing attention until the entire camp surrounded them, and Aeliana wished she’d given up with the torn sleeve. She could practically hear Iris clucking over the split skirt slowing her down and the loosening braid becoming a liability.

Finally, Lukai hesitated and glanced up. With an instinct that must have been bred into her by Lukai, Aeliana remembered the tell. He stretched his leg high, his boot snapping out to connect with her dagger hand.

Only her hand wasn’t there. She slid beneath his raised leg, pulling him down by yanking on his other. She held her dagger at his heel to signal her ability to slice his tendon—a clear win—but his momentum kept him falling, and for some reason he didn’t stop his fall with his hands. The crack of his nose hitting dirt made everyone gasp.

“Lukai?” Aeliana abandoned her dagger, crawling to his side to help turn him over.

Blood poured from his nose, and she reeled back, automatically distancing herself from the temptation, but his face was slack, and her bond mark burned with an intensity she’d never felt before.

“What did you do?” Kendalyhn rushed forward, pushing Aeliana out of the way. Her hands settled on Lukai’s face and throat, assessing the damage with practiced motions.

Aeliana’s palm felt like fire, the pain making her already short breaths come faster and shallower. “Let me heal?—”

“You’ve done enough,” Kendalyhn said.

“Please,” Aeliana begged.

“Let her try,” Sylmar said.

Kendalyhn sat back on her heels, glaring at Aeliana. Blood still poured from Lukai’s nose. Reassured that his heart still pumped if he bled, Aeliana leaned forward, placing both hands on his temples, careful not to touch any of the blood.

Her fingers itched to move closer, to draw in the power spilling out of Lukai’s body. It was the most starblood she’d seen in any of her training, and it called to her with frightening clarity.

It was no longer of any use to him, so why shouldn’t she use it to help save him? Was it really cheating to use his own blood to heal him?

She pulled back shaky hands, scanning the faces of her comrades, desperate for something to center her.

Cyrus stepped forward, kneeling beside her as if he had magic to offer. “The closer you stand, the louder its call.” He placed a steady hand on her arm. “Flee while it whispers, or suffer its fall. Better to die without knowing its gall.”

She blinked as the words tugged at her memory, some recitation from an old holy book.

“You always have a choice,” Cyrus added.

The weaker side of her shoved away his words. The side wanting to test the full limit of her magic, not just the magic in her blood, but the magic she could access from someone else’s. The side she still suppressed. Did the others know how hard she had to work at pushing it down?

She scooted farther from Lukai. “I can’t do it,” she whispered.

“Can’t or won’t?” Sylmar asked. He turned from Aeliana and shoved his way past Kendalyhn, bending forward to place a hand over Lukai’s nose.

A sharp crack was followed by Lukai’s gasp, his eyes opening wide. His face was still a bloody mess, purple and blue bruises already forming on his face beneath the stained skin, but the flow of blood stopped, and he gave Sylmar a grateful look.

“You’ll have to finish the rest yourself,” Sylmar grunted, struggling to stand. “Aeliana,” he called over his shoulder, “come with me.”

Aeliana wiped her hands on her skirt even though she hadn’t touched the blood. She ignored the curious and wary looks of her companions as she walked away, her body feeling drained even though Sylmar had done the work.

She followed him to the beach, the slap of his staff against sand grating on her nerves. Two figures rose from the water, laughing and splashing. Velden and Felk must have missed the sparring. As she and Sylmar approached, Felk lifted his nose to the air before tensing in a crouch. Aeliana imagined herself sniffing for blood, hating how animalistic she felt.

“What happened?” Velden asked, glancing between her and the crowd still gathered around Lukai.

“I broke Lukai’s nose.” She meant to lighten the mood, but her voice came out flat, her mind still warring over the reaction to his blood. It had taken months—or moons as the Vendarans liked to say—but she’d come to value what the magic in her blood could do, to see it as a gift from the Stars. Only the temptation of the blood magic still tainted the gift, making it less than what it was intended to be.

No matter how much she resisted it, she wasn’t sure she could ever be free of its curse, because despite the weaning process, her magic still held frightening strength compared to those around her. If she gave in to the pull of blood magic, even just once, how much damage would her magic do?

Felk laughed, the vibrating tinkle in the air overriding any awkwardness from Aeliana’s reaction.

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