Chapter 23
The art of healing does not stem from the Starborne ability of Sacrifice alone.
It originates in the innate sense of self-preservation instilled in every man and woman at infancy.
Without such sense, one would welcome pain and death.
Rather, it is with careful, deliberate attention to the preservation of the body and mind that unveils the art of a healer.
Medela, Head Philosopher at Virellia University of Healing
“INSUFFERABLE brUTE,” ASTRAIA GROWLED UNDER her breath as she slammed the door to the stateroom behind her. The heat was still simmering beneath her skin from their touch, and from pure rage at his indifference toward her. He perplexed her, which only infuriated her more.
But a small voice in the back of her mind, the one she had shut out all those years ago, whispered shreds of doubt that began to crack her walls of self-preservation.
Maybe he was a bounty hunter for the king, a trained soldier-turned-mercenary—or maybe, perhaps, he had come to care for her in the way she cared for him.
Maybe he could feel the same celestial connection she felt at just his mere presence.
The gravitational pull to be near him—as if their story was already written in the heavens and the Stars compelled them to action.
Astraia breathed deep as she pushed a door open that led to the Volpes Manor gardens, shielding her eyes from the sunlight.
Blinking, she stepped onto the grassy pathway that curved through the gardens, weaving its way through rose bushes, starblooms, and every kind of tree and flower imaginable.
Intoxicating floral scents filling her nose as she strode down her favorite part of the gardens, toward the small stream that nourished all the plant life.
A white stone wall surrounded the manor gardens, for privacy more than security.
Many healers, and those like Astraia who were bonded to Sacrifice, attended the Virellia University of Healing to learn how to harness the medicinal properties of the starbloom and other plants for the good of the kingdom.
Astraia had yearned to attend the university, but her father had other plans.
She clenched her teeth. The familiar weight of resentment and grief crashed down on her, making everything seem so hopeless. All of her dreams and future had been taken from her.
Never again.
The grass deadened the sound of her boots as she walked and a nearby stream bubbled louder as she approached the one place she had longed to see since they arrived at the manor. Astraia’s jaw relaxed when she saw it.
The cascading branches of her favorite willow tree swayed gracefully in the breeze. Its trunk was bent toward the water, as a dancer would bend and bow to the audience, and the tips of the leaves playfully kissed the top of the stream running parallel to the tree’s trunk.
So many summer moments had been stolen by the willow tree.
When they were younger, Elion and Caelan would tease Astraia, trying any way to terrorize her.
The willow was her guard from the playful boys.
As she grew older, she would spend many hours reading beneath the cooling branches, letting the stream’s song lull her to sleep in the warm afternoons.
She pulled aside the branches, ducking her head as she closed herself off from the world. Stooping down to the ground, she sat against the small bend in the trunk that perfectly curved around her back.
Another memory came rushing back as she sat beneath the willow.
A cool summer night during a masquerade ball, torches lining the pathways in the gardens.
Guests laughed and danced through the archways and grassy paths.
Caelan’s hand in her hair, pulling her close to him.
Their lips brushing, stealing their first kiss beneath the green curtain of leaves.
Astraia closed her eyes, letting her head rest against the willow tree.
But it was not the green eyes she expected to see staring back at her—it was fire.
Wild, dangerous, and fearless flames danced across her vision.
Every instinct told her to run, but she could no sooner challenge the Constellations than run from him.
The sound of rain peppering the stream broke her trance. She opened her eyes and saw through the willow canopy that the sun had lowered. Storm clouds now obscured its rays.
Then her bonds jolted awake. Power lurched in her spine but did not demand release. Astraia recognized the sensation immediately. Like the lightning before thunder, it excited every fiber of her body.
A calloused hand pulled open the willow curtains.
“You’re a hard one to find, Starborne,” Draven bellowed through the heavy rainfall.
“Clearly not hard enough!” she shouted back, emphasizing her annoyance.
“Well, are you going to invite me in?” He gestured with a nod at her spot beneath the willow.
Astraia stood as she spoke, a challenge in her voice. “Why would I, bounty hunter? So you can continue to lie to my face? Or so you can finally drag me to your beloved king?”
“I just want to talk. Can we agree to be civil, or are you going to let me drown out here?” Water was pouring down his face, his hair soaked.
“Fine. But one wrong move, and I’ll slit you from nose to navel.” Astraia pulled back her cloak, revealing her Celestial dagger for emphasis.
“Understood.” He grinned, stepping under the willow branches.
The rain only drizzled beneath the shade of the tree, but Draven was already soaked through. His shirt clung to his chest to accentuate his intimidating form. He had rolled up both of his sleeves, his cryptic and elaborate tattoos on full display.
“Alright, you invaded the one sanctuary I have left in this wretched realm. So start talking,” she barked, forcing her eyes to meet his.
“Civil, remember?” His eyebrow rose, scolding her.
Astraia huffed, not willing to indulge him with an answer.
He ran his hand through his wet hair, letting out a sigh, then rubbed the back of his neck. “I wanted to thank you. For helping me.”
She blinked in shock. “What?”
“You saved me. You could have left me to die out there in the woods, bleeding out, but you didn’t. You know what I am, and you still saved me. So, thank you.” His voice was lined with subtle disbelief, as though he still was grappling with the reality of her rescue.
“Well…” she started, “I owed you, so, let’s just call it even now.”
Astraia made to leave the cover of the willow tree, but Draven grabbed her hand. Sparks danced between their fingers, warmth rushing through her skin, making her hair stand on end. Her gaze fell to their hands, then back to his face. His eyes were fixed on her.
“I’m leaving tomorrow.”
“What? Why?” She struggled to mask the panic seizing her.
“I told you not to trust me.” Draven echoed his warnings from days past, a touch of hurt in his tone.
“But why stay this whole time? What was the point of saving me, Draven? Is this just a game to you? Some kind of messed up game of cat and mouse?” Astraia’s voice rose as red-hot heat flooded her face.
She tried to pull her hand from his, but he would not let her go, instead pulling her closer to him under the rainy willow tree.
“You aren’t what I was expecting. You are powerful, loyal, kind without cause. You have every reason to burn the world down. To make them all kneel to you. But you don’t. And now, I can’t trust myself. I need to leave, before I burn it down for you.”
Draven spoke without hesitation, resolute as he stood before her. Whispers of white smoke swirled around him, as though his declaration had caught fire—and Astraia was not afraid.
She quit tugging at her hand and looked at the bounty hunter. She could see the war waging inside him, a conflict between his honor and his orders. He was leaving to save her.
Astraia raised her free hand and cupped the side of his face. New warmth pulsed beneath her palm on contact, putting her bond on edge.
His hand moved to rest on top of hers, his eyes closing. His entire face relaxed, peace replacing the wrath he swore to bring down on her enemies.
“Stay. Please.” Her plea was but a whisper in the rain.
His eyes opened, locking onto hers. “This is the only way to keep you safe, Starborne.”
He gently pulled her hand away from his face, releasing his hold.
“I wish you wouldn’t call me that,” she murmured, looking up at him, trying to commit to memory every line and scar and curve of his face—terrified this would be the last time he would tease her.
A familiar smirk pulled at the corner of his mouth as he leaned closer to her, whispering in her ear, “If I had it my way, I would call you my queen. I would worship you as the Constellations are worshipped.”
Draven backed away from her slowly, holding her gaze. A gentle smile curved his lips as he pulled open the branches and stepped into the downpour.
Without another glance, the bounty hunter left her under the willow tree.