Chapter 10
Emmeric
It was more difficult for Emmeric to leave than he’d expected. While he desperately wanted to return home to find Talon—hopefully the idiot was still alive and hadn’t been tried for treason—he found it increasingly more difficult to deny the pull he felt towards Iyana. Seeming to feel no such compunction, she was at least kind enough to point him toward the nearest village. There was another small township near the base of the mountain range separating Istora and Athusia. The Aula Pass would be accessible from there once he replenished his supplies. Imothia gave him what they could spare, which wasn’t much, but he was still grateful to them for the gesture. They easily could’ve decided to kill him instead.
Nighttime in the desert was the best for travel. He’d learned that the hard way while traveling with Zane. They had moved mostly during the day because Athusia was a much more mild climate. Unfortunately for everyone, they hadn’t learned their lesson during their trek from the mountains to Imothia. Much to his surprise, only one person had developed heat stroke. Although the man was allowed to ride in the supply wagon for the rest of the day, Emmeric didn’t envy him one bit. Not when he heard him vomiting profusely out the back.
While exhausted from being awake all night at Imo’s vigil, he didn’t want to waste a day sitting around in a place he clearly wasn’t welcome. Iyana obviously hated and distrusted him. Altair was indifferent towards him. And, to the village, he was an unpleasant reminder of the massacre that had occurred only two nights prior.
Despite all that, he may have stayed to rest if he was not desperate to see Talon. He would not sleep well until he laid eyes on his friend—alive. If Imo had seen him aiding the villagers, then anyone else might have noticed. And if someone had informed Zane, Talon could be dead or in the dungeons. So, with a pack lighter than what was recommended for a journey through the desert, he left the relative safety of Imothia to venture home. He did not spare a goodbye for Iyana or Altair; he knew it would not be wanted or appreciated.
But as he left the enigmatic star and beautiful stranger behind, something tightly coiled within his chest told him he was making the wrong decision.
Iyana
As she outfitted Emmeric with the least amount of supplies she could get away with and not feel guilty about, Iyana thought about her magic. When Emmeric left, something akin to a rubber band stretched in her chest. It was unpleasant. Not only the sensation, but because she knew it attached her to him and she wanted nothing to do with an Athusan, let alone one who had murdered a tribe member recently.
Even though she felt the inescapable bond within her—that magnetism Imo had told them of—the fact Emmeric was denying his involvement as the Kanaliza was fine with her. Iyana would cut the bond out of her chest herself if she found a way.
After Emmeric left, she sent Altair to Imo’s hut. It was not a place she wanted to go at the moment. Iyana’s worry was that she’d expect her grandmother to walk through the door at any moment, and her heart could not bear the idea that that would never happen again. So instead she lay on her cot, staring at the thatched roof, truly alone for the first time in over forty-eight hours—her mind blessedly silent without the stars whispering to her. Despite the exhaustion dragging at her body, her thoughts wouldn’t quiet enough to sleep. The gods had thrown an inordinate amount of information and excitement her way. More in the last two days than in the past twenty-plus years combined.
Stars were real, immortal beings. Strong, pure magic existed, and she possessed some. She had an annoying, unbreakable bond with an enemy who she begrudgingly found handsome and charming when he wanted to be. When Altair called her ‘my star,’ it made her skin tingle.
People in her village, people she’d known her entire life, were brutally murdered in the middle of the night. Her grandmother had died.
Her grandmother had lied to her.
This last revelation hurt the most. Understanding the reasoning did not lessen the sting of betrayal. Covering her face with her hands, Iyana inhaled deeply. She wanted to cry, but her body had run out of tears. The pain in her heart from the loss of her grandmother made her hollow. Mata Imo’s loss was too much—too much piled on top of an already shit sandwich. There was a greater good destiny she had been thrust into. Apparently, her entire life had been leading up to this moment. Did she possess free will at any point in her life? Was this always where things were heading, regardless of what she or Imo did?
The sweet scent of petrichor drifted over her. She hadn’t heard Altair enter, either because he was quiet on his feet or because she was lost in her thoughts. Probably both. Groaning, she dragged her hands down her face in defeat—her alone time shattered by his presence.
“What?” she snapped.
“I could hear you thinking from next door,” said Altair. “You should rest.”
“Wait—” Iyana sat up to look at him fully, craning her head up as he stood over her. His golden eyes sparked in the dark, firelight flickering over his face, casting one side in shadow. “Does that mean you’re in my head like the other stars were?”
Altair tilted his head slightly to the side, lips curving into a predatory smile. “Would you like me to be in your head?” His voice was like silk.
Fighting the shiver those words provoked, she said, “No, I’d rather my thoughts be my own.”
“Pity,” he said, smile still in place. “I’m sure you have plenty of fun thoughts.”
“Either sit or leave. I’m going to throw out my neck if you continue to stand.”
Now his predatory attention shifted into a hungry grin. Altair’s voice deepened. “But you look so good from this angle, my star.”
Helpless to stop the flush coloring her face, she lowered her head to focus on anything other than Altair. Or the warm feeling spreading into her core. Chuckling, he sat next to her so his thigh pressed against hers, instantly warming her entire body.
“I am sorry to interrupt your alone time,” he said, his tone returning to normal. “But I sensed you were troubled and thought you might have difficulty finding sleep.”
Iyana sighed deeply, leaning into his shoulder and resting some of her burdens upon him. The fact she had just met this man—star—a day ago did not cross her mind. She was too physically and emotionally exhausted to care how close they became. “It’s…a lot. To process. If I think about it too much, I’m afraid I’ll panic, and I don’t want to fall into that spiral.”
Altair wrapped his arm around her shoulder, tucking her in tight to his side. “I understand. I’ve felt that way before.”
“You have?” she asked, settling into his embrace. His fingers drew idle circles on her skin. It did not seem possible for an immortal being to experience anxiety.
“When we first went to the sky, I didn’t want to go. I wanted to stay here on the earth. And being unable to roam was stifling. Tight places make me claustrophobic.”
“What helped you through it?”
“You probably won’t like the answer,” he said, giving her shoulder a light squeeze. “But, time. Having a thousand years to come to terms with my situation, watching you humans and your problems—it put things in perspective for me. Made me realize I didn’t have it so bad.”
“I don’t think I have a thousand years to figure things out,” Iyana said dryly.
Altair huffed a small laugh. “No, you don’t. And I’m sorry, my star, I wish I could give you time to grieve properly, but I need you to train with your magic.” Pulling away from her, his hand traveled lightly from her shoulder down her spine, tingles following in its wake. “We should start tomorrow. The sooner you master the magic, the sooner you can stop Uther.”
Iyana looked into his eyes. There was a sadness there. Pity too. But when she shook her head, she swore she saw anger pass over his face. It happened so quickly, though; she wasn’t sure if she imagined it. She forged forward. “I can’t, Altair.”
“Can I ask why?” And she must have imagined that anger, because his voice was soft and curious.
“I mean, I do need to train my magic, yes, but not for your reasons.” He frowned, his hand falling off her lower back. She missed his touch immediately. “With Imo gone, I’m the healer now. I can’t just leave my people.”
“I understand. Your people are important to you,” he said. “Remember, though, should Uther succeed, he will eliminate all of you. It won’t matter that you stayed.”
Iyana contemplated his words, vowing to take them into consideration. Later. Right now, on top of everything else, the idea of saving the world seemed inconceivable. Altair noticed her hesitation.
“It’s okay,” he said. “We can discuss it more later. Right now, you need to get some sleep. Magic will drain your energy, so you need to rest while you have the chance.”
While she was absolutely exhausted, sleep still felt impossible. “I don’t think I can.”
“Sleep, Iyana.” His thumb gently brushed across her cheek, the warmth of his magic flowing through her. Eyes fluttering closed, she finally slept.
The next morning Iyana woke feeling the most well-rested she’d ever been in her life. Her limbs still felt loose and limp, so she lingered in bed for a few minutes. Just long enough for the past couple of days to catch up with her. Any lightness she had been experiencing dissipated immediately once she remembered her normal routine would be a thing of the past. She needed to move. Action would alleviate these emotions; at least for a short time.
While getting ready for the day, going through the motions of dressing and putting together her medical supplies, there was a knock on the door. She tilted her head back and groaned.
“Go away, Altair!” she called towards the door, continuing to prepare for her rounds. But instead of the deep, shimmering voice of a star, there was a much more timid one.
“It’s Imelda,” came the muffled voice from outside. A small oh escaped Iyana as she hurried to let Imelda in. As she opened the door, she instantly recognized that Imelda was nervous—shuffling on her feet and wringing her hands. There was a burst of panic.
“What’s wrong? Is everything okay with baby Ian?” The words rushed out of her mouth.
“Oh, yes, he’s great actually,” she replied, still fidgeting. “Can I come inside?”
“Of course,” said Iyana, moving away from the entrance. Imelda walked to the middle of the hut and just stood there. Closing the door, Iyana thought this was strange behavior for her. Hopefully she was feeling well; it could be difficult for a new mother to adjust after giving birth. And then fleeing for her life the same night wouldn’t help matters. Waiting for Imelda to speak first, she stood by quietly. It took quite a while before she spoke.
“I didn’t mean to eavesdrop…” Imelda eventually said, appearing even more nervous, if that was possible.
“What?” Iyana asked, confused.
“I came by last night to bring you food. I thought you might not be up to cooking—”
“You didn’t have to do that,” Iyana interrupted. “Especially not with a newborn.”
Imelda finally stilled her fidgeting. “I know, but I wanted to.” She took a deep breath. “I came over now, though, because I overheard you speaking with the stranger, and I really meant to leave and come back later, but… I know he’s a star.”
“What?” Iyana asked, again.
“I’m sorry,” Imelda continued. “I kept listening. He talked about training your magic, and something involving Emperor Uther.” Iyana was struck dumb, unable to respond to what the young woman had heard. “I couldn’t pick up everything clearly, but I do know you refused to go with the star, deciding to stay with us instead.”
Iyana finally found her voice. “Of course I’m going to stay here. With Imo…with Imo gone, there is nobody else to tend to the village’s medical needs. I would never leave you vulnerable.”
Imelda breathed deeply again. “We want you to go.”
“What?” Iyana asked, yet again. It was starting to feel like she couldn’t remember any other words. “Who?” Ah, there was one.
“I spoke with Isaac and my mother, and my mother spoke with some neighbors. We all agree, if this is your destiny, who are we to hold you back?”
“What if—” Iyana broke off, continuing in a meeker tone. “What if I don’t want to go?”
Imelda smiled brightly. “Of course we won’t force you to leave against your will. But, Mata Iyana, it sounds like the world needs you more. We will survive.”
Stunned, Iyana open and closed her mouth several times. Nobody had ever called her Mata before, the title always belonging to Imo. She had never considered inheriting the honor. While there was no perfect translation of Mata from the old language, the term of endearment and respect had carried down through the generations. Imelda had a small grin; she knew how the word would make Iyana feel.
“Arinem needs you,” Imelda said softly. Upon hearing those words, identical to Imo’s dying declaration, Iyana decided to leave with Altair.
She only hoped the star wasn’t too smug about her change of heart.