Page 42 of Blood of the Stars

Gaeren wasn’t sure how this conversation had suddenly become political again. He supposed it made more sense for Larkos’ tattoo to be a political statement than a religious one. For all Gaeren knew, this symbol could now be the mark of a Recreant, their slogan changing from “Bring down the Elanesse” to “Save the Wheel of Magic.” But the royal family had no power over the Wheel of Magic.

“So you think we need to call on the Stars to commune with us again? Is that even possible after they put up the barriers?” His recent read of The Sins of the Stars had recounted the event in detail. Whether the barriers had been put in place by Sheen and her fellow Stars like the text claimed or by the Sun in its divine justice, the barriers had also cut off the people’s access to the Stars.

According to this book, the Stars blamed themselves for the state of the world. The varying cultures were a result of the Stars’ interference as they not only communed with humans in Sungazers but also started families with them, creating half-lights with starblood. The Stars had attempted to right their wrong by pulling out from the lands and leaving the people to their own devices.

Which were just as bad as before.

Larkos shrugged. “I have no clue if we can commune with the Stars again. Like I said, I’m not that devout. I’m more about preparing for the inevitable breakdown of the Wheel. The need to function as a society that will eventually lose magic.”

Gaeren’s hands tightened on the bulkhead. He’d grown so used to his magic, even dependent on it, that he forgot some people had no experience with it. A world without magic would still go on, but it would feel bleak.

Lenda and Orra chose that moment to exit their quarters and take a turn around the deck, followed by Lenda’s maid. Lenda’s face was too pale, her grip on Orra’s arm too tight. By the Sun’s sleep, she’d likely be trapped in her quarters, too sick to even come out for fresh air. In some ways, it was a relief for the women to have each other. Gaeren wouldn’t have to entertain either of them, which would have been frustrating for vastly different reasons.

The entire crew’s stances shifted, their hands slowing in their work as their gazes lingered over the women.

“You know, it’s bad luck to have a woman on board,” Larkos grunted.

“Maybe having three cancels it out?”

Larkos shook his head, but there was a tilt to his lips. “What do you expect to find when we reach Bamboo Island?”

Gaeren tensed, then pulled out his dagger, running his thumb over the daisy engraved in its pommel. Sometimes the answer felt simple: he wanted to find Daisy. Other times it felt much bigger, like finding her and solving the mystery of his childhood would open up a hundred doors to his future. He wondered if that was what it was like for Enla when she sifted through souls. Doors waiting to be opened.

He’d told Larkos about the light, how he’d wanted to investigate its source, but that was all. Orra’s presence clearly clued Larkos in to the fact that there was more to the story. Except Gaeren still didn’t really know what he expected to find. He tucked his dagger back into his belt.

“Hopefully, the truth.”

CHAPTER 17

Aeliana tapped her boot against the cave wall. Her frustration grew as she watched the mouth of the tunnel for any flicker of light signaling Sylmar’s return. He’d chastised her for letting Arvid and Vera take her blood, then shifted plans. He took all the Vendarans except Iris to comb the island for her guardians. She supposed the more accurate term was kidnappers, or maybe even Zealots, but it was hard to think of them as anything else.

The Recreants had left at the Sun’s morn, and after three meals, two fitful naps, and infinite rounds of pacing, Aeliana suspected it was past the Sun’s sleep.

“Everything will be fine,” Iris said for the hundredth time. She handed over hemp, instructing Aeliana how to braid it into a sturdy rope while she did the same. The activity was meant to be distracting, but it only left Aeliana more agitated.

Cyrus was better at keeping himself busy—or maybe he just had less to be concerned about. He sharpened a sword on the whetstone before testing its weight in his hand.

A low hum wound its way through the cave, momentarily rattling packs. All three of them paused, eyes meeting over still hands.

“What was that?” Cyrus whispered.

Without warning, Iris stood, grabbing daggers and heading for the cave’s exit. Just before leaving, she turned.

“Please, stay here.” Her eyes begged Aeliana and Cyrus with an intensity that didn’t match her calm instructions. “If no one returns before another Sun’s morn, take the north exit.” She pointed toward the back half of the cavern, where they’d all started walking before Aeliana had told them Arvid and Vera had her blood. “It slopes down under the channel and will take you through to the mainland. Follow the coast south until you reach the sound. Catch the ferry and take it to Valorian, then go straight to the blacksmith. He’ll get you to the Recreant army. Don’t trust anyone else.”

She was gone before either of them could ask a question.

The sound of her boots faded along with her candlelight bouncing off the wall. For a moment, Aeliana and Cyrus stared after her, the sudden silence more foreboding than a clash of weapons would be.

Aeliana scratched at her back. The mark made by Arvid had scabbed over, making it itch.

“Could you look at my back?” She swept her hair to one side and undid her top button just so she could pull the collar of her blouse down on her shoulder, angling the back of her neck toward Cyrus.

His face turned red even though nothing inappropriate was exposed. Still, he leaned forward and pulled it down more, letting the cool cave air rush across the wound and provide momentary relief. Maybe Velden could make one of those seaweed poultices for her.

“Aeliana, what is this?” Cyrus’ voice was low, his words urgent.

“I don’t know. They make the marks once a year, but I can’t ever see them. Is it infected?”

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