Page 53 of Blood of the Stars

“My guardians used my blood for its magic, but I never really developed any of my own.” Aeliana bit her lip, trying to decide if that was a good thing.

“Sure you did,” Iris said. “I saw the bed of daisies you grew. That’s unusual. It hints that you might lean toward the earth elemental. Some progenies develop a second spoke, which then gives them access to the rim of the Wheel of Magic. The earth elemental falls on the rim between the constructive noetic and somatic spokes. I suspect those will be your strengths. Even if you only develop one spoke, you’ll be surprised at what you can do now that you have your starlock.”

Aeliana opened her mouth to protest, but the words died on her lips. The idea of using magic had always been so detestable, the concept equated with the horror of what her guardians had done. But her guardians didn’t have starlocks; they’d just had her blood.

Could she simply choose to use it now? Especially now that she had a starlock?

She wasn’t sure she wanted answers to those questions.

After dinner, Lukai and Cyrus pulled her aside.

“Cyrus says you have a wound that needs healing,” Lukai said.

Cyrus gave her a sheepish grin. “If you’re as tired as I am, it can’t feel good to also have that pack scratching your scabs.”

She sighed and undid her top button, turning to let her collar fall enough for Lukai to see the marks on her back. His intake of breath brought back all her fears, and she and Cyrus shared a grimace.

“Does Sylmar know about this?”

She shook her head.

“Arvid and Vera were communicating with someone, most likely Mayvus.” Even as he spoke, he ran his hands over the scabs, a coolness settling into her skin that made her sigh in relief.

“I keep forgetting to tell him, but I will.”

“I’ll let him know,” Cyrus offered.

“Thank you,” she said as he headed for the cookfire. She wasn’t sure she had the energy to deal with Sylmar’s response. Lukai tugged on her shoulder so she could face him.

“All done,” he said.

“Thanks.” She buttoned her shirt once more, and an awkward silence hung between them.

“The last couple days have been”—Lukai fought to find the right word as he scratched the back of his neck—“strange.”

She laughed, a light airy thing that made her inwardly cringe. “If it’s been strange for you, a Vendaran, imagine how it’s been for me.”

He smiled, his gaze drifting over her shoulder, back at the others. A lock of his golden hair fell in his eyes, and Aeliana wondered if she should brush it away. The thought was so absurd she almost laughed.

“Look,” he said. “I don’t have any expectations for the two of us. I’m your bondmate, and I will protect you. But it doesn’t have to be more if you don’t want it. It’s not fair to expect anything else from you when you didn’t choose this.” He gestured between them.

“You didn’t choose it either,” she pointed out.

He shrugged. “I know.”

They stared at each other for a long moment.

“Let’s work on being friends, for now,” she said. “Friends who have this strange impulse to protect each other. I think that’s all I can handle until we get my blood back anyway.” She wrapped her arms around herself even though the forest air was still thick and warm.

“Fair enough.” His smile seemed wider, lighter—a vast contrast from Sylmar’s dark look as he headed their way.

After extensive questioning about the marks on her back, Sylmar finally let them all go to sleep. Aeliana’s dreams were filled with blood and tears. It could have been memories of the last two days all squished together. It could have been what she feared might be the result of Mayvus having her blood. But when she woke in the night, she realized half the sobs she’d heard came from Cyrus.

Unsure if he’d welcome comfort from someone partly responsible for Della’s death, Aeliana remained curled up on her bedroll, crying silent tears along with him.

The next two days passed in a similar fashion, only instead of trekking through lava tubes slightly improved by progenies, they walked through forests of bamboo and giant taro, still thick and untamed. Having caught up on rest, everyone was determined to take their turn walking with Aeliana and Cyrus, comparing Lorvandan and Vendaran history and culture—if nothing else because it got them out of the duty of hacking overgrown trees in their path.

Cyrus’ excitement distracted him from his grief. It was like the text of The Legend of the Stars was coming to life before his eyes. Aeliana was glad he at least had that. Despite his tears during the night, he’d stepped away from the group to worship the Stars, had even invited her to join him. It didn’t matter that the Stars hadn’t stepped in to save his grandmother, he still called on them to guide him through his grief.

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