Page 184 of Blood of the Stars

She stepped forward, reaching out for Lukai, but her hand stopped just above his shoulder. Was she quick to forgive because it was her nature? Or because the bond required it? She let her hand fall and stepped back once more, the reality of what he’d done sitting heavy with her. She couldn’t handle addressing it now, especially with an audience.

Her gaze fell on Sylmar, whose brow remained raised in question. His unwillingness to use her blood without permission didn’t override his manipulation to get her to hand it over. Was it truly her choice if he made it her only way to help rescue her mother?

A scream threatened to work its way up her throat, but she fought it down before turning away. Tears stung her eyes as she swept the tent flap aside, afraid she might retch. As the cool night air hit her face, she sucked in its freshness, allowing it to calm her pounding heart and settle her stomach.

Most of the troops had gathered around small campfires where they ate a meager meal. The guards on either side of her glanced her way, but they made no comment. They’d likely heard the entire discussion in the tent.

Murmurs started up around her, and, as her eyes adjusted, she saw the stares of the people, followed by the occasional dip of the head. A few even touched their fingers to their foreheads first, something she’d caught Gaeren’s men doing before he reminded them he was no longer a prince. A gesture for royalty.

Rumors had spread about her identity as the daughter of Emeris and Rildan, and the curious glances at her hair and dress had shifted to desperate hope as the people examined her features, picking apart the similarities between her and her mother.

Was Gaeren right? Did they see her as an alternate to the throne?

She strode to the edge of camp, swallowing around the lump in her throat and tripping over twigs and stumps she was too distracted to notice in the dim moonlight. When the chatting and laughter blurred to a dull hum, she dropped to her knees and bent forward, burying her face in her hands.

They asked too much of her, and yet they didn’t ask enough. It wasn’t Jasperus’ price to pay tomorrow.

She ripped off her starlock and threw it a dozen steps away. A coldness swept over her, but she fought it, momentarily reveling in its absence. It didn’t have to be a part of who she was. She could be strong without it.

Footsteps whispered through the grass behind her. She sat up and turned, almost eager to take her frustration out on someone, but all the anger left her when the shadows shifted to reveal Cyrus approaching. Out of everyone here, he didn’t deserve her wrath. He hadn’t asked to be a part of this any more than she had.

He stared at her for a moment, then strode past her, bending to search the forest floor before picking up the starlock she’d thrown. When he kneeled in front of her and slipped it back over her head, she couldn’t hold his gaze. The starlock settled against her chest, its heat like fire even through the fabric of her shirt, as if it were angry at being cast aside.

“It’s a part of you now,” he said. “Even if you don’t always want it to be. It’s a calling from the Stars. They rarely call us to carry light burdens.” He tilted his head up to take in the Stars’ dance, the reverence on his face almost inspiring.

“Every life that’s lost because of me makes the burden heavier,” she whispered. “When does it become too much?”

“Gams always liked to remind me that the Stars will never give us more than we can bear. It’s written in The Song of the Stars.” He glanced at her, and his smile held a sorrow that tugged at Aeliana’s heart.

“Do you think that was true, even in her final moments?” Aeliana tried keeping her tone even, but the words came out raw and harsh. “When she took the brunt of my guardians’ anger instead of me?”

“The Stars sent her Orra, didn’t they?” He glanced back toward the camp even though it was impossible to make out individuals. “And they’ve sent you all these people ready to stand behind you. Or even in front of you.”

“I don’t want anyone to die for me. Least of all Jasperus. He’s lost too much already.”

“That’s part of the reason he’s willing to fill the position.” Cyrus winced at his own words, then tugged on the cord around his neck, pulling something dark out from under his shirt. He gripped it tight and hesitated, staring at his fist—not quite willing to reveal what it held. “Maybe the Stars also sent me to give you another option.”

Aeliana’s heart picked up its pace. “What do you have?”

“I should have shown this to you a long time ago. At first I thought it would be too tempting for you, that it might interfere with your efforts to wean yourself off blood magic. But the longer I had it, the more I started feeling ridiculous for having taken it in the first place. And eventually guilty.” He opened his fist for the moonlight to reveal a small vial of dark red blood resting in his palm.

Aeliana sat back on her heels, finally understanding his hesitation. “Whose blood is that?”

“Durriken’s.”

Aeliana’s mouth swung open. “How did you get the dragon’s blood?”

The tips of his ears darkened as he lifted a shoulder. “After Orra told me about Gams’ last moments, I left camp. Without really thinking about it, I ended up back at Islara’s gates, almost like seeing other people’s loss might put my own into perspective. But then I also saw Durriken lying there, fast asleep.”

Aeliana covered her eyes with her hands. “You didn’t.”

He laughed, a sound more from relief. “I did. I don’t know what possessed me. Curiosity maybe? There was probably a hint of a desire for revenge. But when I got close, I saw his paw. He was branded just like you said. I didn’t really know how it worked at that point, but I knew Mayvus had your blood and that gave her power over you. It felt like if we had his blood, it might eventually give us power over him.”

Aeliana peeked between her fingers. “So you just went up and cut him?”

He grinned sheepishly. “Pretty much.”

“And why exactly did you have an empty vial just sitting in your pocket?”

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