Page 24 of Blood of the Stars

Sylmar adjusted his staff, using it more like a cane as he drew closer, his stance appearing too vulnerable to be the source of the sparks she’d first seen. A deep belly laugh rose from his throat, leaving Aeliana pained that the old man must be oblivious to the threat flowing in her veins.

She wanted to warn him away. He was no match for Arvid.

“Surely you knew I’d come.” Sylmar’s words came out raspy, like his insides held the same scars as his face and hands. “Where’s Rildan?”

“In the Deep.”

Aeliana’s heart dropped to her stomach. Had Della’s story been right? Had her father left the arrow for her? And died because of it?

Arvid widened his stance, elbows out, bouncing on his heels as if ready to pounce.

Sylmar made no move to defend himself or prepare for his own attack. “You never were a good liar.”

Arvid scanned the skies, making everyone else glance up as well. The dark spirits couldn’t follow them here, could they? If he gave control over to one, the battle would be finished before it had begun.

“Gone for fourteen years, and you’re still doing her bidding?” Sylmar’s taunt was like the flick of a switch.

Arvid’s body tensed, the blood on his hands nearly glowing in the moonlight, as if to remind the enemy he hadn’t completely used up his stores. “Mayvus rewards her faithful servants.”

Sparks erupted from Sylmar’s staff, which then shifted its shape to a sword. Arvid began throwing flames instead of words once more, and stray sparks grazed Cyrus and Vera. The brunt of it smoked Cyrus’ arm, and he screamed, taking Vera’s focus off Aeliana. Still, her hold on the knife remained steady on Cyrus, his life held in her unpredictable hands.

“Time’s up,” Vera said, using her free hand to toss a glass bottle at Aeliana’s feet, where it bounced in the moss. “Just one more bottle. Then we’ll leave you two to survive the jungles of Vendaras.”

“I’m not worth it.” Cyrus winced as Vera adjusted her grip on the knife.

They would get her blood either way. They always did. But at least she could save his life. She bent to retrieve the glass bottle, then eyed his wound, still seeping despite the pressure. Hopefully, she could still save him.

Vera pulled a second knife from her boot, tossing it in Aeliana’s direction.

The decision felt wrong. There was a reason they wanted her blood, and it couldn’t be good. But nothing was more valuable than a life, and the life in front of her was the life she could save right now. Aeliana yanked the stopper from the bottle with renewed purpose.

She couldn’t watch Cyrus die. Not when she could do something about it.

She picked up the knife and sliced the skin of her palm, letting the blood fill the tiny jar. It was nothing compared to the blood they’d taken in the past.

She dropped to her knees, and the muggy air turned chilly, goosebumps rising on her flesh. A sense of euphoria mixed with shame flooded through her as a desire grew to spill more blood even once the bottle was full. Green shoots rose from the ground, and her eyelids fluttered, her mind losing control over her body. The power of her blood filled her, taking over her senses. The urge to give in to the blood’s demands hit harder than ever before, as if freely giving it made it stronger than when it was forcibly taken.

The only thing that brought her back to her senses was Cyrus’ mournful cry.

She stoppered the jar, then pressed the wound hard against her thigh, standing and stomping out the daisies that had grown. Her breath came out ragged, her muscles limp like she’d run to Gahldric Valley and back. A dark shadow flitted across the sky, black against the moon’s light. Maybe the dark spirits could cross the barrier. Or maybe these were different dark spirits, unique to Vendaras.

“Now let him go,” she demanded, her voice almost as hoarse as Sylmar’s.

“Give me the blood first.” When Vera held out her hand, the edge of the golden arrow peeked out from inside her cloak.

For a moment, Aeliana wanted to barter for that as well, but it was too risky. She reached back and flung the bottle high above Vera.

Vera pushed Cyrus out of her way as she lunged for the blood. Aeliana reached for Cyrus to stop his fall, but he pulled her down with him, the moss breaking their fall even as tiny bamboo shoots dug into their backs. For a moment she let herself feel the crash of anxiety and relief, and she leaned over to bury her face in his shirt.

Sweet Stars, she hoped she’d made the right choice.

“Why would you do that?” The frustration in Cyrus’ voice was softened by his arm wrapping around her. “Gams sacrificed herself for you to escape them. She told me to protect you. Not the other way around.”

He had every right to question Aeliana, but she had no answer.

The plain stars above twinkled in the sky, and the heavenly Stars did their dance as if unaware of—or maybe uninterested in—what took place in this tiny clearing. Vera ignored them as she cradled the vial of blood in her hands, and Sylmar and Arvid were locked in battle, sparks and fire flying as they danced in and out of the other’s reach, both surprisingly spry.

“Come on. Let’s go,” Aeliana whispered, rolling away from Cyrus. They crept through the brush, and Aeliana was thankful for the return of shouts and flames, which drew attention away from their escape.

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