Page 63 of Blood of the Stars

Gaeren’s chest tightened. He’d been willing to die for Riveran at one point. Nearly had when they’d gotten in over their heads with some fresh progenies who’d had a score to settle with Riveran. He’d loved him like a brother.

“That kind of love trumps respect,” Gaeren said, “but it also goes both ways. I would need to be willing to die for them.”

Riveran hummed his agreement, turning back to the water now that his point had been made.

Gaeren glanced down at the men below him, their laughter carrying out across the water. The carefree teasing reminded him of his childhood, even though most of the men were old enough to be his father or grandfather. He knew them all by name, even knew many of their families, but he’d purposely kept them at arm’s length.

When he knew too much, he grew too frustrated with his inability to change their circumstances. Bringing bread to Erech was one thing, but Enla would never let Gaeren patch up the boy’s drafty home or ensure his mother had adequate care from healers. Not unless Gaeren turned it into a program he could manage. And then he’d hear everyone’s woes and feel even more helpless.

Was it so strange to want to know these men as friends? To be willing to die for men who served on his ship? He could practically hear Enla’s frustrated voice in his head. She believed he was worth hundreds of their people. But wasn’t that part of what he hated about his family’s tyranny?

How could he say he valued democracy if he wasn’t valuing the people fighting for it?

“Thank you,” Gaeren said, unable to look Riveran in the eye. It didn’t matter, because the other man nodded, gaze on the water.

As Gaeren made his way back down, he tuned in to the men around him, sensing their warmth. He rarely used his skills without first asking permission. It felt like a violation of someone’s privacy. But all these men knew his spoke, and they’d all signed on to work for him, knowing their proximity alone put their memories within his reach.

His progeny mentors would scold him for needlessly using magic, especially at night without the Sun’s energy to recharge. But maybe this exception to all the rules was more necessary than ever.

Erech stood on the outskirts, young enough to not know his place in the crowd. When Gaeren came close, the boy turned with a smile, then started upon seeing his captain. He ducked his head.

“It’s good to see you having fun, Erech.”

The boy smiled hesitantly.

“Was it hard leaving your family?”

Erech’s smile faltered. “Harder than I expected.” Images from Erech’s mind flashed through Gaeren’s. His parents smiling down at his siblings, his mother’s hand over her distended belly. Squalling infants being handed to Erech, one by one, as he met his siblings for the first time. The pang of loss over missing this newest sibling’s birth.

“Probably easier to leave the horse manure, though,” Gaeren suggested.

Erech laughed, and the edges of the sorrow blurred. “I promised my sisters I’d bring them seashells. Larkos says there are blue ones off the coast of Bamboo Island.”

“Ah, the butter clams,” Gaeren said. “Those are nice, but I bet we can find some Sundial shells that will really impress them. Or some of the tiny clams near Rykarn have pink and orange shells.”

The boy’s eyes lit up, and Gaeren ruffled his hair.

“Climb on up to watch the water for a bit with Riveran.”

Erech fought for footing on the rigging before Gaeren could even finish his instructions.

He chuckled and moved on to Breeve, who was only a few years Erech’s senior. He’d done his time as cabin boy and swab, and while he couldn’t cook well, the job suited him.

“The chicken had good flavor tonight,” Gaeren lied. “Have you been taking lessons?”

An image flashed through Breeve’s mind, and Gaeren tuned in to it. A woman in an apron, smiling from behind the stove.

“Just helping Ma between jobs.” Breeve’s pimply face always had a red hue, but in the wake of Gaeren’s compliment, the color reached the tips of his ears.

“Your mother probably worries too much, yeah?”

The young man’s grin filled his face. “Of course. That’s what Ma always does. She’s got four others at home. You’d think they’d be enough to keep her mind off me.” The other children’s faces passed through Breeve’s mind and then Gaeren’s, their shapes taking form and movement. Shrieks of laughter, hay-filled hair, skinny legs wrapped around ropes, swinging in a barn.

Gaeren slapped Breeve on the back, letting his hand rest on the young man’s bony shoulder. He didn’t need to maintain contact to tune in to Breeve’s memories, but they grew far more vivid this way. He felt the emotion instead of just seeing it. It made his heart ache and his throat tighten. It made him long for home even though he’d never had a home with such carefree abandon. His parents probably didn’t even miss him. Were they doing well? Or had his mother’s health taken a turn for the worse?

He shook himself from his thoughts, focusing on Breeve once more.

“You’re the oldest, right?” Gaeren already knew the answer after seeing Breeve’s memories, but he waited for Breeve’s nod before continuing. “What does your father do? Are you going to carry on his line of work?”

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