Page 25 of Ties of Starlight

That was the nice thing about all the traditions that had been added to the ritual—it meant everything was predictable.

She passed by Lady Katla where she sat by Lady Asa and several of the court members as they ate, and Lady Katla, in a poorly lowered voice, said, “Someone must know what she did.”

“Sir Olaug didn't say a word to a soul before leaving,” one of the guards said.

Lady Asa cut in, “And there's no guarantee it had anything to do with her or something she did.”

“I suppose it could have been her half-human blood,” Lady Katla said, shaking her head. “But there had to bemore. Do you think maybe he wasn’t the only one having a scandalous tryst? She did work in the library. How easy would it be for her and a secret lover to be—”

Idonea furiously blinked as she picked up her pace to get away from their voices. It had been bad enough last time, dealing with the rumors that made her out to be a girl with loose skirts, but again? They didn’t even have a reason to believe such a thing. She’d done her best to stay far away from anything that could damage her reputation.

Her past life, however, seemed destined to haunt her and repeat itself again.

She was as lost as they were to what she’d done wrong. She certainly had never been anything but faithful to Olaug. If she knew what she'd done wrong—even if it was too late to fix it—she could record it to ensure in her next life she didn't make the same mistake.

Her journals were littered with advice and lessons from her previous lives all given in the hopes that if she managed to avoid her past mistakes, the next one would be the last.

She ducked into the Cometa Couple's tent and quickly threw up a little starlight. She immediately went to the vanity, sitting down and pulling out her journal. She had to have done something, and she needed to figure out what it was.

She started flipping through the pages, going back to the beginning of her current life. Well, the day she'd figured out this life wasn't her first and had started recording this one in a journal. But nothing stood out to her. There was nothing different about this life that was of note, other than the instances where she recorded her annoyance with Nyrunn when he would appear in the library, going out of his way to mock her and annoy her until he got a rise out of her.

She stared at the pages until her eyes spilled over andshe had to shut the journal in order to keep her tears from making the ink run.

Where had she failed this time? Even if Olaug had been kidnapped, there had to be something she could have done to stop it. She had to have done something that would have influenced it.

How many times? How many lives would it take for her to finally get this right and be done with it?

Decade after decade she’d lived and death after death she’d died came crashing over her like a tidal wave. The weight of her own memories and each life before a failure was suffocating.

She wastired.

When was it going to be enough? When was she going to be good enough?

Idonea shoved the journal back into her bag and instead dressed for bed while Nyrunn wasn't there, pausing as she buttoned up her nightgown, brushing her fingers over her birthmark—or rather, over the scar that marked her last death.

She looked at the bed and dreaded falling asleep, never knowing which life was going to haunt her next. More accurately, which death she would be subjected to. During the day, it was easier to focus on her current life and keep her mind in order, but when she was asleep, centuries of memories came rushing to the surface and she was defenseless against them.

But she'd rather that than be awake when Nyrunn returned and have to face the stranger who was where Olaug should be. Nyrunn was probably trying to avoid her just as much so he wouldn't have to face their marriage either.

She woke up the next morning to see Nyrunn this time had slept in the chair with his feet on the vanity, a rathercomical sight, and she was certain not a comfortable one. But before she could examine it closely, he was shifting, waking up and climbing out of the awkward position. He ran a hand through his hair and opened his mouth, but then Frode's voice was piercing the canvas. “Your Majesty!”

Nyrunn scowled and left without another word.

The first few days went similarly. The court had no interest in her other than to speculate whether it was her blood, her actions, her status, or light skirts that had caused the mess of her being left at the altar. Why were none of them even considering that Olaug had been kidnapped?

And since she was left alone with her own thoughts while they traveled, all she did was worry about him.

Well, worry and notice all the ways Nyrunn wasn't Olaug.

He was taller, for one. It wasn’t by much, but Idonea noticed it. She noticed everything.

Like how Olaug and Nyrunn’s hair were different shades of purple. Nyrunn’s also looked softer. He moved differently. He spoke differently.

If Idonea had a spare journal, she could fill every page with all the ways Nyrunn wasn’t Olaug. And if she had another one after that, she could fill it with all her worried wondering about Olaug’s safety.

By the fourth day, Idonea couldn't even eat for fear of losing it from her own anxiety about Olaug's fate, and she could no longer avoid Nyrunn the way she'd been very successfully doing. Especially now that the Constella was done beating the minutiae into his head about his duties.

She needed answers from her husband.

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