Page 9 of Blood of the Stars

“I’m Della, second to Bartholem, this Stargazer’s High Priest.” The woman leaned in to add wryly, “Who also happens to be my husband.”

Aeliana attempted a smile, assuming a real priestess-in-training would find the comment amusing.

Della led Aeliana through a side courtyard, where a dozen doors led to various back entrances for the Stargazer and its connected buildings. The quiet sounds were left behind, replaced by a pure silence that made Aeliana step lighter. The temperature rose instantly as the walls surrounding them provided shelter.

“First, I want to introduce you to Cyrus.” Della knocked on the door three times. “He arrived last month. Since we only have room for two trainees, you two will be spending a lot of time together.”

The door flew open, making them both jump. The man before them had wide green eyes surrounded by a shocking amount of freckles. Priests and priestesses were known for never taking shears to their hair once they took their vows, but it seemed as if Cyrus had taken his vows at birth. His thick red hair was tied at the nape of his neck, extending well past his elbows.

“Forgive me, Gams.” His words rushed together with the awkward crack of a voice recently deepened. “I don’t know how I slept past the fifteenth bell. I mean, I know how. I just thought today would be different because I left my window open, which let in all the rain, too. So on top of being late, I have a colossal mess to clean, and you wouldn’t believe how much?—”

“Cyrus.” Della’s calm interruption made him clamp his jaw down tight. “We can discuss your tardiness another time.”

His entire body slumped with relief. “I’ll take an extra shift or do an extra round of?—”

“Cyrus.”

Aeliana’s lip lifted as the young man’s face reddened.

“Right, right.” He bit his lip as if it was the only way for him to stop talking.

“This is Celeste,” Della said.

Aeliana winced at the use of the dead girl’s name.

“She’s our new priestess-in-training.”

Cyrus’ eyes widened once more, and before Aeliana could guess what he might do, his hand was clasping hers with a grip that made her wince.

“It’s about time you got here.” He studied her face with such intensity that Aeliana couldn’t hold his gaze.

She tried to imagine what he saw besides her thin frame and pointy chin. Dark brown hair matted to her face and neck. She hadn’t seen herself in a mirror for several months, but Arvid and Vera always said her eyes were soulless, waiting to be filled by the dark spirits.

He turned her hand over, examining her arm. “Your skin is so brown, like the tanned leather hides Gamps brings from ranchers. You probably never burn out in the Sun.” The last words came out wistfully as he patted his own pale cheeks.

“That’s why I thought she might be from the south, but she’s from the eastern provinces,” Della said.

Aeliana tried smiling as if she hadn’t been caught in her first lie. Her olive complexion had nothing to do with the southern or eastern provinces and everything to do with her half-light heritage.

Cyrus’ grin widened, turning lopsided. “When Gams said they sent for another, I hoped it would be for a priest, but a priestess is just as good.”

“Who is Gams?”

Della laughed. “Cyrus is our youngest grandson. I was meant to be Grams, but he had a speech impediment, and by the time he outgrew it, the name had stuck.” As Della spoke, Cyrus’ light blush turned a deep shade of red.

“Next, she’ll probably tell you how I wet the bed until I was ten,” he muttered.

Della’s eyebrows rose. “There’s no need for me to spill your secrets. You do that just fine on your own.”

Cyrus ignored the mild jab. “Gamps said the best friend he ever had was the one he trained with. They ate together, learned rituals together, hunted together—they spent every waking moment side by side.” He grinned at Aeliana. “That will be us.”

His words stirred a deep longing in her. Before her blood revealed its power, Arvid and Vera had let her spend countless hours in Stargazers across the country. The priests and priestesses she’d met had been distant holy figures, occasionally a temporary parental figure. None of them had offered friendship.

If Cyrus knew who she was—what she was—he might not be so eager.

“Don’t scare her off on day one,” Della said. “I have a good feeling about her.”

Aeliana swallowed hard, tuning out the farewells as Della led her toward another room. She wanted to return Cyrus’ excitement, to share Della’s confidence, but they spoke in terms of years, and she had only two weeks. The only feeling she had was that her blood would likely be the cause of their deaths.

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