Chapter 30
The Starborne are fading, either from fear or from slaughter at the hands of hate. The King and Queen do little to prevent these unholy acts or protect the blessed ones. I fear, the Starborne will cease to exist should these inquisitions continue.
Scribe to the Priest of Power, Polentias
SHE AND DRAVEN HAD RIDDEN through the night nonstop, pushing Orion and the other horses as fast as they dared with Caelan clinging to life by a thread.
At one point, she had fallen asleep on Orion’s back, slumped over his neck.
When she had come to, her reins had been looped around Draven’s saddle, keeping her tied to him.
When they burst through the servants’ quarters door in the early morning hours, they had nearly given Graves a heart attack.
Carrying Caelan to his room, Astraia had bellowed orders for the butler to fetch the best healer while she tried to coax her Sacrifice bond to life enough to provide Caelan some relief from pain.
Her bond had sputtered, barely a glimmer of blue light, but it had afforded him a small reprieve.
His face was ghostly pale when the healer finally arrived, an older man cloaked in the blue robes of the university flanked by one of his apprentices.
She had insisted on staying, but Draven eventually dragged her away from Caelan’s bedside to allow the healers to work.
She vaguely recalled her knees giving way from exhaustion in the hallway and a warm body pressed to hers as he carried her to her room.
The next morning, Astraia groaned from stiff muscles as she made her way to the washroom.
Her eyes widened at the wild creature staring back at her in the mirror—tangled hair, dark shadows under her eyes, dirt and soot smudged on her face.
She could not recall another time when she had been so tired, except perhaps after nearly burning out when she lost her tether.
She took her time soaking in the tub, lathering with eucalyptus soap, turning the water gray with ash.
Once she felt she had finally scrubbed wraith blood and smoke from her skin, she stepped from the tub and ran fingers through her wet hair.
She rifled through the dresses she found in her wardrobe and rolled her eyes at the impracticality of most, likely Caelan’s doing.
Finally, she found one of the simpler dresses, although it likely could feed a small village with the cost of the fabric.
It was dark blue gossamer material with a fitted bodice and simple flowing sleeves.
Gold thread was stitched along the waist, cuffs, and hem in the shape of tiny stars and phases of the moon.
It was resplendent, the gold thread catching the light from the sun and glistening on the marble floors.
Slipping into the dress, she felt somehow naked beneath yards of fabric. For years, she had worn clothes for utility, not for appearance. It was not to say that she disliked wearing lavish clothes; she just never felt the need, nor did she have occasion to impress.
She sighed and pulled her hair back loosely, small tendrils of her hair managing to escape and frame her face. She polished off her ensemble by strapping her Celestial dagger to her thigh beneath her gown then strode down the hallway.
She could hear muffled voices from inside Caelan’s room as she drew closer. Before she could knock, the door was yanked open, and the university healer stood in the doorway, eyeing her suspiciously.
“Lord Vireaux requires rest, my lady,” he stated firmly, blocking her way.
“Stand aside, Borea,” Caelan commanded from behind the doorway.
Begrudgingly, Borea stepped aside, allowing Astraia to enter.
She glared at him, then strode past to sit in the chair beside Caelan’s bed.
He was sitting propped up by pillows, a tray of food in front of him.
His coloring was still pale, but his lips were pink, and he beamed at her as she came to sit beside him.
“That will be all, Borea.” He did not break his stare from her as he spoke, entirely dismissive of the hovering healer.
“Yes, my Lord,” the healer replied, closing the door unnecessarily loudly.
“How do you feel?” Astraia asked, leaning over to hold his hand in hers. It was warmer, and she could feel his steady pulse, which put her mind at ease. The green in his eyes sparkled in the sunlight, making her heart swell.
“I’m alive. Thanks to you. And…him,” he said, squeezing her hand in his.
A lump formed in her throat, and she swallowed hard. She had not been to see Draven this morning. There were too many questions, and she needed to make sure Caelan was recovering without complications before she faced her next opponent.
“If not for him, we both would have died. Of that, I am certain,” she murmured, a wave of gratefulness and disbelief washing over her.
“Then he has my thanks, for saving you, for saving us both.”
She smiled at him, silently thanking him for his gratitude. “As much as I do not want to admit the grumpy healer is right, you must rest. And eat. I am still not satisfied with your coloring.” She frowned at him, then slid his tray of broth closer.
“Yes, healer.” He winked at her, then brought her hand to his lips, placing a gentle kiss on her cool skin. “Come see me again today? I fear if I am left alone with Borea all day, I may go mad.”
“Of course.” She smiled again, then rose to leave. “Now, eat, sleep.”
He rolled his eyes, spooning some broth into his mouth.
She smirked, shaking her head, then softly closed the door behind her.
Making her way back toward the guest wing of the manor, her shoes clicked on the marble floor, matching the quickening of her pulse.
She was not sure where Draven had slept last night, but she was certain he had not left the manor.
Something deep in her core had warmed the moment she woke, a sensation she realized she only felt when he was near, and it was still heating her now.
She walked past several guest rooms that were vacant before coming to her own. Across the hall from her room was another suite, one her brother had used when they stayed in Volpes during the summers.
The door to the suite was cracked. Stepping up to it she raised her hand, nervous of what lay on the other side. Softly, she rapped on the door and waited, holding her breath. When no answer came, she nudged it open, peering inside.
The room was empty, but there was evidence someone had slept there. The sheets were disheveled, balcony doors opened, and strewn across a chair was black leather armor with a Drakari-scale design imprinted on it. The washroom door was also ajar, but it was quiet, unoccupied.
With a sigh, she closed the door and paused as she glanced down the end of the hallway. The door to the gardens was open, a sliver of light pouring through and fanning out over the glistening marble floor.
She made her way through the gardens, dusk settling over the trees and starblooms. In a few moments, the magical flowers would glow in the moonlight. It had been her favorite flower as a child—a beacon in the starless night.
Stepping through the flowers, weaving through the lush greenery, she breathed deeply, closing her eyes and letting the sun’s last rays warm her face before it set. She stood in the middle of the flowers, thanking the Stars in her mind that she lived to see the sun rise and set again.
That was when she felt it.
Heat, different from her bonds, blazed to life in her core. A deep longing that seeped into her bones, lighting her on fire.
“There you are, Starborne.”
Her eyes flew open, searching frantically for the source of the voice until Draven stepped from behind a tree and strode through the starblooms toward her.
He wore a simple black shirt, the sleeves rolled up and his tattoos on full display, a dagger strapped to his thigh.
His light brown hair was pulled back on top of his head and his eyes…
His eyes were two suns, setting her heart on fire and burning her inhibitions.
He stopped right in front of her, gazing into her eyes, a hint of longing in his stare.
“Here I am,” she breathed, pulse quickening, heartbeat pounding in her ears. Words muddled as she sank into the amber pools looking back at her. She let the pools claim her, drowning her in liquid sunlight.
It was his eyes she wanted to see every time the sun rose and the starless night claimed the day.
It was his eyes she had dreamed that took her pain and guilt away.
His eyes that gave her strength to face death and become the strongest version of herself, stronger than her bonds.
It was his eyes she begged would consume her.
“How do you feel?” he asked gently.
“Better.” She watched the last of the sun’s rays dance across his face, illuminating the weariness she knew he was hiding. “Thank you. For saving me, saving Caelan. For coming back…” Her voice trailed off as her throat tightened.
He scowled, sighing as he looked up at the darkening sky, and ran his fingers through his hair. He rubbed the back of his neck then met her eyes again. Agony was etched on his face. “I should have never left.”
“How did you find me? You were gone for days, and we were nowhere near Volpes.” Her pulse quickened, unsure if she was prepared for his answer.
“I was barely a day’s ride away from Volpes when I had a dream. It sounds insane when I say it out loud, but it was so real,” he said, shaking his head.
“What…what was the dream?” Her palms were clammy, a cold sweat rushing over her.
“I was in a bright room, bright as the Stars. At first, it was quiet, then I could hear shouting. The sound grew louder, and I knew, in my bones I knew, it was you,” he replied, holding her gaze.
She could not breathe. Could not move.
“I called out to you and reached into the light for you.” His voice was low, barely more than a whisper. “And suddenly you were there, holding my hand. You stopped screaming and just stared at me. You said in the darkness that I was your light.”