Page 52 of Heir Of Sun And Moon
“You know, a partner. A companion.” I gesture in the air with my hands as I continue, “A lover.”
“Ah,” he says, sitting up and scooting closer until one leg hangs off the bench and the knee of his other brushes against my own. “It would be odd that I was coming here to see you if I was, don’t you agree?”
“I do, but then again I don’t exactly know how things work in the outside world. Maybe that would be a normal occurrence for a man,” I shrug, letting a little of my insecurity out into the open between us. He leans in, his perfect scent surrounding me as I breathe in deeply. It unfairly clouds my mind so that all my thoughts are about him. Though in truth, that’s always the case whenever he is near.
“It might be a normal occurrence for a different man, but not for me. There is no one else—here or back home.” His eyes are dark pools of glittering sincerity before he adds, so very quietly, “There is only you.”
Chapter Twenty-Six: Bahira
Ithasbeenovera week since Nox’s last letter. After the young mage informed me we had new correspondence, I hurried to the council room and was met with my father’s worried gaze. His face was lined with tension as he held the letter out to me from where he stood at the head of the long table. Reading it over, my heart had palpitated in my chest, my eyes taking longer to focus on each word. Nox thought he found the source of the magic, and apparently, he was close to figuring out exactlywhatthat burst we felt was. He—most inconveniently—didn’t say what his suspicions were, but either way, the members of the council have been even more on edge ever since.
Summer has descended upon the Mage Kingdom, the heat from the sun beats down on the tops of the trees and mixes with the humidity from the thick foliage of our realm, making my workshop feel stuffy. My brow is dotted with sweat, a bead rolling down my temple, as I lean over to peer through the eyepiece of the magnifier on the table. Clicking another glass lens in place, it zooms in on the glass slide underneath. Looking down the scope, I watch the organisms move around in the small drop of magic-infused water I had placed there. I don’t see anything unusual, so I click another glass lens into place to zoom in even further. I study it through the scope, trying to find something—anything—out of the ordinary. But there is nothing unique about the water. I zoom in again, only two glass lenses remaining to click into place. Holding my breath, my hands braced on the table on either side of the magnifier, I stare. And stare. Andfucking stare, but there is nothing. Nothing to even signify the water has been infused with magic.
“Fuck it,” I grumble as I push the remaining two glass circles into place, zooming in as far as the tool will allow. I close my right eye as my left looks down the scope, and it takes a second to focus the image, but with it this magnified, I can see the cells of the spring water. My vision blurs, probably a combination of not getting enough sleep and looking through this damn scope for too long. Mentally, I start counting to ten, making it to four before I swear I see a flash of light. It was quick, too fast to be certain if it was a trick of the scant sunlight shining in or actually coming from the water cells. I restart my count and make it to ten without seeing the flash again. Blowing out my breath, I stand up and stretch my back out before leaning against the black stone counter behind me.
I haven’t been back to my workshop in weeks, partly because I couldn’t figure out what the hell to experiment on and partly because I’ve been too nervous that I might run into Daje here. I still haven’t spoken with him since the day I challenged Gosston, and it doesn’t evade me that this is the longest we’ve gone without speaking.
Children run past my workshop, laughing and screaming as they chase each other, which brings me back to the present. My little lab built into an albero tree is off one of the main roads and usually pretty quiet, but with the warmer temperatures of the summer season, everyone has been more restless—including the children. Or maybe it is justmewho has felt that way. Between the loss of the magic, Nox’s mission, possible impending war, and my lack of progress, it feels like we’re standing at the gates of something huge, unable to see what’s on the other side.
“Shut up, Barren!” a small girl’s voice says, drawing my attention to the door.
“You can’t tell me what to do; you barely have any magic!” My brows draw together as I take an unconscious step closer to where I hear their voices.
“I said, shut up!”
“You can’t play with us. You need stronger magic in order to be in the game.” Someone—Barren, I assume—says in a high-pitched voice, the cadence of it grating on my nerves.
I step across the threshold of the doorway and out onto the gray stone-paved road. My eyes dart around until I see them, a half circle of children all facing one lone girl—Starla, her curly brown hair recognizable from her Flame Ceremony. She furiously wipes away the tears tracking down her cheeks as she holds her ground against them. But I can see how she reacts to their words, the small deflation of her shoulders and the way she can’t stop the slight wobble of her lip. The whole scene feels so familiar to me.
“Go play with the plants! They’ll be your friends,” Barren snarls, swiping his stringy blonde hair out of his face as the others around him laugh loudly. The children appear to range in age from eight to pre-teen, leaving Starla the youngest among them—impressing me even more to watch her stand toe-to-toe with them. “Poor Starla, hated by the gods so much that not even your parents wanted you.”
My eyes narrow, anger rising within me, but I force myself to stay put. I know firsthand what it is to have someone step in when you don’t want them to, and something in her stance tells me that this little girl would rather defend herself than have someone do it for her.
Starla folds her arms over her chest and gives Barron a scathing look; a move that is so reminiscent of something I might have done at her age that I can’t help but smile. “I may be an orphan, but at least I’m not an idiotic prick with zero brains!”
I bark out a laugh, the sound crossing the distance to the children who all look my way. Their eyes widen when they see me, Barren’s growing the biggest of all. The group disbands quickly, running away without a second glance and leaving Starla all alone. I walk towards her, smirking when Starla turns and gives me her back.
“I don’t need help,” she growls, her shoulders tensing slightly before she adds, “Your Highness.”
“I know,” I answer as I walk around Starla until I’m in front of her.
She stares off at the trees behind me before taking a deep breath. “I’m sorry I called him a prick.” Her lip wobbles again before she rolls them together.
“No, you aren’t,” I say, squatting down until we’re at eye level. “But between you and I, he is a prick.” Her shoulders slowly relax, a ghost of a smile replacing her earlier glower. “If you ever want a reprieve from said pricks, I wouldn’t mind an occasional lab assistant.”
I don’t know why I offer; I prefer to work alone when I’m doing my experiments. Still, Starla reminds me of a younger version of myself. The memories I have of trying to navigate a world where everyone else had something I didn’t tugs on my heart uncomfortably. At least I had Haylee and Daje— My throat goes tight at the thought of him. I blink away the emotions and stand back up, suffusing my voice with indifference once again.
“You will have to learn not to let the things they say bother you. If they see that they are getting to you, it will only make it worse.” She lifts her chin higher but avoids my gaze. Snorting, I step around her and begin walking back to my workshop. “Think about what I said,” I shout over my shoulder.
My head leans back against my chair on the veranda outside of my room, another mage journal in my lap. A warm breeze rustles the leaves on the trees surrounding me as I listen to the humming of bugs and the chirping of seasonal birds, back from their migration to the Nalka Mountains in the east. Summer Solstice is in a few days, and my father has been trying to distract the council with celebration preparations until we receive our next letter from Nox.
My mind wanders to the last time he came home for a visit. His hair had grown longer than he usually kept it, and I swear he even appeared more tan. My brother always had an affinity for being serious, particularly when it came to talk of his mission, but it grew with time away from his kingdom. He had changed so much in the four years he had been gone that each time I saw him, it almost felt like meeting a new person. Even his best friend, Cassius, couldn’t draw the same level of mirth from him as usual. But when it was just us, he would let the undercover crown prince façade fade a little and become my caring older brother again. He relaxed and laughed more, always asking about whose ass I was kicking and how my experiments were going. I often wanted as many details as he could give me about where he was, but all he wanted to talk about was what I was doing while he was gone. I know he hated lying to our people about where he truly was and what he was doing, but he did it for their safety. My parents cried when he left, supporting his decision to put his people in front of his own desires but feeling the weight of his absence in their bones. We had no idea his sacrifice would bleed into years, and all I can hope for now is that it’s nearing an end and he will be home for good soon.
Letting out a sigh, I flip the page of the journal and continue reading. This one is from a year ago, and for a few pages now, the councilman has droned on and on about how he isn’t happy with the newest group of young mages because they “all appear weak.” My eyes roll, and I keep turning the pages until I finally see a new entry. Reading through the journals has been eye opening in a way that unfortunately isn’t yet helpful in my pursuit to fix the magic, but instead shows me what some of these men in particular are truly like. I wonder briefly if any of the council members had documented that I fought with Gosston in their current journals, and a cackling laugh bursts out of me at the thought.
“What’s so funny?” my father asks from behind me.
My scream of surprise is so loud, dozens of birds take flight from the canopies above. “Father, what the hell!” I shout, hand clutching my chest as I try to take a breath while my father laughs as he comes to stand beside me.
