Quills and Starlight (Marriage Market Misadventures #3)

Prologue

Raelin A.K.A. Raylen

(Ten years prior. Age Seventeen.)

The night sky outside the library window mirrors my mood perfectly. Instead of the usual quiet, endless dark, tonight the stars seem to burst into a hundred tiny celebrations, twinkling and sparkling to life just like the excitement buzzing beneath my skin.

For the last several years, the small town of Moonscliffe has been my home. My sanctuary. But now I’m ready to leave. Ready for the adventure of a lifetime. My plan is to travel the world, improve my skills as an archer, and compete against the elite elves who have mastered the craft.

I’m eager to leave my small town and even the mountains of Dun Steorra. My dream is to see Emberleigh’s green forests, meet Gearwick’s fascinating inventors, and see everything Everend has to offer.

“Have you ever wondered why the goddess of night has blessed us with that particular constellation?” a voice asks suddenly.

I drag my eyes away from the window to study the elf next to me.

Sylar is a peculiar elf, to say the least. Attractive, but super shy.

We’ve grown up together, attending the same classes and dealing with the same tutors.

He’s the studious type. My complete opposite.

While I’m desperate for adventure, Sylar craves knowledge.

When we were younger, he was always so tiny and quiet, so much so that sometimes he almost seemed to disappear into his parchments and books.

Despite all that, his large, amber-brown eyes and curious stare have always piqued my curiosity.

Seriously, when did he become so damn attractive?

Sure, it wasn’t until this year that he truly filled out, growing taller and more muscular.

But the awkward, boyish elf I once knew is becoming a strikingly handsome man.

He leans in close, the heavy scent of fresh parchment and something sweet clinging to him. He points just out the window and at the stars above us. “The Traveler’s Lantern,” he states. “Have you ever wondered why the goddess of night blessed us with that constellation?”

Heat floods my face as I blankly stare at the sky, trying to figure out the shape of the constellation. The stars wink silently, mocking me.

I always assumed Sylar was making fun of me when he stated things I should know, things our tutors taught us.

But now, I’m starting to think he just can’t help himself.

There’s a small smile on his face, and hope blossoms in my chest. Maybe this is who he is with everyone.

Sylar isn’t making fun of me for not knowing certain things; he just can’t seem to contain the information inside, right?

“Isn’t that the story our astronomy tutor was just going on about?” I ask, trying to keep my tone casual.

Sylar nods, face turning to study me. He waits patiently, as if curious about what I’ll say next. His long black hair falls into his face, and I rack my brain, trying to remember what our tutor said about the constellation. “Doesn’t it point north?”

“Well, sure, that’s the general idea, but there’s more to it,” he says, voice brimming with excitement. I scoot closer, eager to hear more from this handsome elf. None of my tutors ever captured my attention the way Sylar seems to.

“According to the myth, Nocturna, the goddess of the night, was in love with the goddess of the hunt. You see, Arrowyn has the heart of a true adventurer. She travels night and day, chasing the white stag across the seasons. Meanwhile, Nocturna is always in the same place, unable to leave.”

I suck in a deep breath. Goddess, I can’t imagine being stuck in one place forever. “That’s kind of…sad.”

Why the hell is he telling me this? Is he hinting that he’s stuck here in Moonscliffe, unable to leave? Just like Nocturna? Or am I reading way too much into this?

“It is sad,” he agrees. “One night, driven by loneliness, Nocturna gathered several stars and used her celestial magic to weave them together into a beautiful cluster. She wove them together so tightly they fused into one large star with several smaller stars cupping the bright bundle. When she finished, hope pierced her heart. Nocturna created the Traveler’s Lantern so Arrowyn will always be able to find her way back to her true love. ”

I frown. “It’s still a little sad, though. I don’t understand why one goddess had to leave while the other had to stay.”

“I know, I know, but there’s a reason for everything.

Hear me out.” He pulls out a quill and starts scribbling on a piece of parchment.

“Imagine if Arrowyn never chased stag, we would never have seasons. Now think about the eight major constellations; it’s what our months are named after.

Without Arrowyn’s adventurous heart, all of our seasons and months would have remained the same, blending into one. ”

As he dives into the story of a different myth, he begins to talk even faster, his excitement matching mine. Sylar dips the quill into a jar of ink that swirls like liquid starlight.

I hiss. “What are you doing? That’s enchanted ink. It’s only to be used on things that are considered precious. Things worth preserving.”

“What’s more precious than the celestial sky and its constellations?” he counters, gaze focused.

He continues to tell me about the myth of the Drunk Sun God, all the while his pretty dark eyes sparkle like the jar of magical ink.

Like starlight.

When he’s finished drawing the pretty constellation, he moves on to the next one, immediately telling me yet another story as he draws all his favorite constellations one after another, over and over again, repeating the process until his parchment is almost out of space.

With such passion, Sylar could easily be at the Everend Market, recounting celestial stories from his own booth.

I notice that he sticks to the stories of minor constellations, the ones that have various stories between elven territories and sometimes even from town to town, depending on the lore.

“And what about the myth of the Star-Crossed Archer?” I ask, unable to hide the eagerness in my tone. That thrill to go outside is replaced by the excitement and energy radiating from Sylar.

He pauses to glance over at me, quill falling from his fingertips. A scarlet blush stains his cheeks. “I—uh, I don’t know what that one is.”

He’s lying! I smirk. But why? What doesn’t he want me to know? For the life of me, I can’t remember anything about that constellation. The only reason I remember it is because I want to be a famous archer someday.

“That’s okay.” I let him off the hook. “I still think that particular grouping of stars is pretty.”

Sylar’s face is creased with suspicion. Damn.

I killed the mood. After a long, awkward moment of silence, he picks up his quill and begins drawing in the last little corner of empty space.

Rather than the hasty, rushed sketches from earlier, he handles these stars with meticulous care, as if crafting a work of art.

When he’s finished, Sylar carefully tears off the corner of the parchment paper and hands it to me.

The magical ink seems to shimmer brighter when I recognize it.

My heart races as I stare at the constellation.

He drew this for me. Because I said it was pretty.

A spark of genuine happiness warms my chest an instant before it flares across my cheeks, making me suddenly very aware of how hard I’m smiling.

No one besides my sister has given me anything just because I liked it.

“Thank you,” I whisper.

“You keep it,” he says nonchalantly, but I don’t miss the fact that his blush has spread down his neck before disappearing into his tunic.

Folding the parchment into a neat square, he tucks it into his textbook and stands. “Have a safe journey, Raelin. I hope you learn everything you hope to with your archery tutor.”

I don’t reply, suddenly shy for the first time in my life.

Sylar doesn’t wait for my response. He just tucks his book under his arm and makes his way down the street.

I watch him go, surprised that he would finally talk to me on the day that I’m leaving.

I blink down at the constellation with a strange yet happy feeling swirling in my stomach.

I might not know the story behind this constellation, but I do know something else I can’t seem to shake.

Someday I will marry that elf.