Page 17 of A Touch of Stars and Stones
Is that it?
I’m sure I’m missing some of the finer points, but those are the highlights for this sunny morning.
I didn’t want to move from the bed. For a little while longer, at least, I could keep all of this in my head and pretend, maybe, that things would go back to the way they were.
“Are you awake?” Lyle calls from the other room.
I swallow the petty reply and force a cordial response. “Yes.”
“Would you like breakfast? We’ve not eaten much these past few days. You need to keep your strength up.” She appears at the door to the bedroom as she says this. Still, I keep my tongue behind my teeth because I don’t want to lash out.
“Sure.”
“You might want to unpack a few of your things. We’ll be staying here a little while. I’ll be back shortly.”
She gives me a soft stare.
Don’t hate me, Ever. You’re the most important person in the world to me. I just wanted to keep you safe.
“Stop it,” I grit out. I don’t want to hear what she’s thinking.
Her eyes flash wide for a moment, but unlike when we were leaving, I don’t feel anything along with the words, just patches of thoughts, like colours slipping into my mind. She turns in a hurry, and I listen to the door pull close before I get out of bed and take a proper tour of our new residence. So much for starting today on better terms.
Despite the sunlight, there are still candles burning throughout the rooms. I thought it looked rich and expensive last night. Now, it shocks me all over again. The colours are vibrant and deep in tone, not faded or old, and there’s even a dining area I hadn’t noticed last night, complete with centre place settings as if we’re expecting company. Grand and formal company.
It’s far bigger than all the rooms of our house put together, with more wealth on display than we’d ever be able to make from trading and selling items back home.
Is this what Lyle’s life had been like before? She said she wasn’t powerful, so she became a Watcher. Did she lose out on a life living in a place like this?
So much for my neatly stacked list of questions. Ever since I woke up on the floor four days ago, I’ve been adding to the list, but it’s so long now, I can’t remember what to ask first, although two pressing queries were: Who was that witch, and what did she do to me?
Far too quickly, Lyle returns, and Kyra is behind her, carrying a tray of delicious-smelling breakfast treats.
“Good morning, Ever. I hope you slept well.” She blows into the room as if on a spring breeze, sets the tray at the table, smiles, and then steps back a little, her hands folded neatly in front of her.
“Thank you,” I mutter as I circle towards the table, unable to resist the smell of food after eating nothing much more than a few hunks of bread and apples for the last few days.
I take a seat and look at the dishes displayed in front of me.
Kyra approaches and pours a cup of coloured liquid. “There are pastries and custards, fruit and nuts, plus sausages. And bread. I wasn’t sure what your appetite would be like.”
“This looks wonderful.” I’d never seen so much food laid out for breakfast before. I snatch one of the golden, flaky pastries, and it melts on my tongue before I’ve even started to chew. The sweetness explodes in my mouth, erasing any bad thoughts from my mind.
“After breakfast, the Orders would like to meet you. And then, we can introduce you to the rest of the trainees.” Kyra outlines the plans that apparently have been made on my behalf.
I look at Lyle.
“The Orders would want to meet anyone coming from outside of Kirrasia. It’s nothing to worry about. A formality.” She offers a tight smile, and I can see she’s lying.
“I would’ve thought you’d lied enough by now. How about we only play with the truth from now on? I think you owe me that.”
She dips her head, and a wave of guilt hits me for making her feel bad. But I chastise myself. Lyle has lied my whole life. I shouldn’t feel bad for asking for the truth.
“You’re right. I’m sorry. As for the Orders, they will be wary of you. Especially as your magic has developed so quickly, so close to your birthday.” She’s still holding back.
“What else?” I push. “Will the witch be there?”
“She’s not a witch!” Kyra exclaims as if I said something highly offensive. “She is our Maker, the daughter of Aslendrix herself. She has overseen the Transference for all Kirrasia for hundreds of years.”
