Page 7 of Blood of the Stars

It detailed the Great Divide, an event that had occurred over a thousand years ago when the single continent of Rhystahn had been divided into five, separated by water and shimmering walls. Most retellings defined it as a punishment from the Sun, but this one had a different take, marking the event as a solution sought by a handful of Stars for the people’s tendency toward intolerance and oppression. The unusual intervention had been led by a Star named Sheen, a name Gaeren had never seen anywhere else in holy literature.

Gaeren snorted. If all that were true, the rebellious Stars had fixed nothing. Intolerance and oppression had carried on amongst the Vendarans just fine. Either way, the book lacked the specifics he needed. There was no mention of how exactly the barriers were formed—or how they could be removed.

There was also no mention of the fabled starbridges.

Few people cared about the starbridges or other lands now that they were so far out of reach. Since people hadn’t been spotted across the barriers for centuries, the Vendarans were content to believe they were the only ones left. But Gaeren believed the starbridges—and full-blooded humans—still existed. His entire crew had turned last year’s sighting into a ghost story, but he held on to the truth. He’d seen a ship full of humans across the barrier. If people still lived in the other lands, Daisy could still be alive, just out of reach.

He had to hold on to that truth. It was his last hope of finding her.

He frowned as he reached the end of the book with no new information, and then he slammed the book shut. The holy Stars danced above, their joy as they flitted amongst the static stars mocking his frustration.

“Where are you, Daisy?” he murmured.

He turned to the beginning of the book for one last scan, and his eyes fell on handwritten notes on the inside cover. He squinted, pulling the scrawl closer, and saw a tiny arrow with the phrase “Lorvandas - Bamboo Island?” followed by an oval and triangle with the question “Sayhla?” A miniature sword or knife with the word “Falls” and a circle with “Ahmranas?” completed the odd collection of words and images.

He frowned and tossed the book on his table. A few birds flew from the nearest trees, startled by the noise. When Gaeren stilled, his senses tuned in to something he’d missed when he’d been distracted by the book. Someone had been here today. The books he’d left scattered on the desk now had an order to them, a purpose. Traces of magic lingered in stronger ways than those left by the monkeys and birds he often shooed away.

He drew energy from his blood, sending it through the swamp, waiting for it to tune in to the memories of whoever had been here before, and looking for the magic’s source. Strangely, no memories appeared, as if the person had known his spoke on the Wheel of Magic and purposely blocked him. He crept down from his hideout, warily leaping from root to root.

Instead of tuning in with his noetic spoke, he stuck to the basics, the hub of the Wheel of Magic, and drew more energy out from his blood to alter his strength and agility to easily maneuver through the mangrove trees. He could practically hear his progeny mentors lecturing him about not draining his power source during the night. A starlock only takes one so far, and the Stars are just as dependent on the Sun as we are.

As he drew closer to the edge of the swamp, where the wetlands met the royal grounds, the traces of magic dimmed, becoming like trails of stardust. He concentrated so hard on the residue as he swung around a mangrove that he nearly smacked into a pale gold blur of gauze before realizing it was Enla. He caught a branch with his right hand but still had to bring his left around Enla to steady them both instead of knocking her over.

Enla sucked in a breath, then patted her short hair, the tiny walnut braids lining her head still perfectly in place.

“Mother and Father noticed your absence. You couldn’t wait to go on your silly adventures until after they turned in for the night?” Her eyes narrowed, and the silver starlock shifted a fraction on her forehead, the heart leaning to the left. She shoved his arm away and took a delicate step back, her effort wasted since her slippers and gown were already soaked with mud. She lifted a hand to her nose, likely trying to block out the sulfurous stench. “What are you doing out here, anyway?”

“Nothing the future queen would approve of.” He grinned and glanced behind her, tuning in for any guards. She’d come alone. “How did you find me?”

Guilt replaced anger on her face, making him wary.

“We talked about boundaries, Enla. I don’t tune in to your memories and you don’t sift my soul’s future.”

“Father made me.” She spat the words out, her anger back full force. “You’re lucky I told him you snuck off with Lenda. Even luckier that she was willing to cover for you after you abandoned her at the party.”

He rubbed the dark scar on his palm when it twinged.

“It’s a wonder Father believed me. You’ve completely ignored her since your childhood ceremony.” Enla’s dry tone used to make him grin, but now it meant she’d lost her temper enough to slip out of her pretentious royal act.

Gaeren stepped past her, over mangrove roots, working his way toward drier ground that would lead them back to the palace. “You’re one to talk. It’s not like you and Croft have become best friends.”

“Have you even set a date for your wedding?” Her breath hitched as though his pace was too fast, but her words only made him march faster.

“Why rush it? Unlike you, I don’t need to produce an heir.” He gave her a pointed look over his shoulder.

“What’s more important than sealing a bond? An expedition to Lovers’ Falls?”

He stopped short, making her crash into him. She swore, shoving him harder, as if he’d been the one to bump into her.

“You saw my request?” He turned to face her, all irritation forgotten. He dropped to his knees, heedless of the mud soaking through his trousers. He grabbed her hands and channeled his best begging face from their childhood. “Please promise you’ll approve it. Please?”

“Oh, stop.” She pulled her hands away, but her lips bloomed into a smile. She’d never been able to resist his adventurous requests when they were little.

He stood. “You won’t regret it, Enla.”

He bent forward to kiss her cheek, but she turned away, the moon giving just enough light to reveal her face tight with regret. “You know I can’t approve it.”

“An expedition to Lovers’ Falls could serve us twofold,” he pressed. “We could ask the sprites for support. Even if they say no, I can stop in Valorian on the way there or back. I heard talk of Wyndrens that I want to check out.” He didn’t really care about rumors of their family’s oldest enemy, but Enla might. Supposedly, generations back, the Wyndren family had come from a distant cousin who never quite gave up what he thought was his right to the throne.

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