Page 71 of Blood of the Stars

Orra twitched, her face scrunching as if in pain.

“Is this how she tracks?” Breeve’s voice cracked as he leaned toward Gaeren.

Gaeren tensed. He had no idea. But he wasn’t about to let Breeve know that. Despite Orra’s willingness to entertain the sailors with dozens more tales from the far eastern seas, she’d hardly exchanged five words with Gaeren since she’d hinted at the sword’s location. He still couldn’t grasp why she’d written the “Falls” if it was last known to be in the possession of Captain Moss. It seemed more likely to be among a Sungazer’s artifacts. Unless it had been passed down in her family, and she already had it. Or was it the same starbridge Daisy had used?

He'd listened closer to her cleverly crafted stories in case they held more hints, but they’d left him with more questions than answers.

She never answered questions about the stories, and after the legend of Lady Redwood, she’d never taken requests. Any inquisitions about herself were unmistakably ignored, including her stake in this voyage. When she’d finally answered his question about what she’d do when they arrived, she’d hummed and said, “Whatever the island tells us to do.”

Now, Orra pulled her hands out from the ground, flecks of mud speckling her arms elbow to wrist, her light brown hands stained black, fingernails caked with dirt. “Southeast, across the channel and sound. Toward Valorian.”

She brushed her hands together and strode across the ridge, headed for the scorched earth in the valley below.

“Wait,” Gaeren called. “We can’t just leave the ship.”

She turned around. “Normally we could reach Valorian faster by taking Starspeed down the coast, but with the storm coming, it might be faster to travel on land. But as captain, of course, the decision is yours.”

His mouth dropped open. Was she mocking him? “That’s not what I—what if we’ve overlooked something? We should search here first.”

Her eyebrows rose. “What do you think I just did?”

Sun’s fire, she was driving him mad. “I have no idea.”

“I told you I can sense things better on land. It would be best if you trusted me. The longer we stand here debating my methods, the farther the others get and the more we’re delayed by the storm.”

Thallahan snickered, elbowing Breeve as they all waited for Gaeren’s decision. He glanced at the sky where even darker clouds rolled in. They’d had smooth sailing using the trade winds so far, but Bamboo Island was in the heart of the Dead Winds. If anything, a bit of a breeze would be welcome as they fought their way both to the southern trade route and then against its northwesterly winds. Besides, he’d rather face a storm at sea than on land any day.

“Let’s sail.” Gaeren purposely placed himself between Orra and the others, slowing down until the distance allowed a private conversation.

“What magic do you use?” It was a question that required tact, but he had no time to ease into the topic.

She sighed. “It’s not blood magic if that’s your concern.”

It would be a lie to say it wasn’t, but without seeing any blood spilled, it was hard to consider it for long. Was she somehow tracing the memory of the starbridge? Or Daisy’s memory?

“How do you know where to go?”

“When you tune in to someone’s memories, how do you find them?”

He spun around, forcing her to stop.

She stared up at him, her face too serene, almost uninterested.

“How do you know my spoke?”

“You tried reading mine when we first met. I sensed it then. Along with your affinity for sensing truth. It’s dampened but still useful.”

He’d never heard someone use the term “reading,” like memories were a book to be explored. It gave him the uneasy feeling that she belonged on an entirely new spoke. Maybe an entirely different Wheel of Magic.

“Besides, you’ve continued trying to access my memories despite my advice to never use magic on me. It’s not like you’ve been hiding your spoke.”

He felt the warning in her words even as she glanced beyond him.

“We should catch up with the others.”

“If you want me to help you, you need to start explaining things.”

She frowned, swiping at the sweat dripping down her temples, leaving streaks of mud across her face. “When devouring the moon, small bites are digested more easily.”

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