Chapter 86
Time passed in a strange haze that Orra couldn’t hold on to. She kneeled on the balcony until every last Star had taken to the skies, leaving her shivering in the night air. Even Andreas had left her, but with the deaths that had occurred this night, it wouldn’t be for long.
She imagined them all reflecting the Sun’s brilliance. If she opened her eyes, she might see them dancing in the sky, but she suspected their anger and grief might hold their dance at bay. Even so, she waited, knowing they would return.
While waiting, she imagined the fullness of the Sun’s glory hitting her celestial body.
The way it had always felt like a fire that cocooned her in the Sun’s embrace.
She longed to share in that sensation with her brothers and sisters now, but it was lost to her.
And she didn’t know if she could ever gain it back.
She knew she was undeserving, but after seeing the other Stars making the same mistakes, carrying out decisions that would have as equally disastrous consequences as her own, she couldn’t help wondering why they still received the blessing she’d lost.
It felt like days or years had passed until the sounds of footsteps coming up the stairway met her ears, and then it felt like mere moments.
Had the people she’d grown to love aged and withered away like all the rest while she lay lost in her misery?
Or had her sorrow been a cage for her mind that stretched out time?
The figure that emerged from the stairway looked wrong—the shadows too wide with too many appendages.
When he stepped from the darkness into the moon’s light, the single figure became two.
An aged man being carried by his son, who had somehow aged himself a fair amount since the last time she’d seen him.
Her fear of time passing rushed through her once more, but as Gaeren drew closer, she saw it was a trick of the light, along with sorrow marring his features.
It was his soul that had aged, not his body.
Gaeren lay the brittle blue shell of his father down on the cold slab of stone, his pinched features looking almost angry.
If Orra hadn’t known him, she might have thought he hated the man before him.
But she’d sensed the conflicting emotions in Gaeren in the past, the way love warred with hatred and anger fought with sadness.
“When we love well,” she whispered, “we can be cut deeply.”
He blinked over at her as if just now noticing her presence. “Will you sing him to the Sun?” he rasped out.
She nodded, then began her hum. She thought he might stay, but he backed away before lumbering down the stairs.
By the time her song grew words, he’d come back with the body of his mother, as well as several frozen pieces that had broken off each of them, and he laid them side by side, placing his palms on their cheeks.
He whispered words Orra caught only because she knew how to listen for those final prayers. His regrets joined with laments, a desire to look and remember the good even if little had been there. A promise to do more, to be better.
As her song faded, so did his tears. He stood, wiping the remains of them with the back of his hand.
“Thank you.” His eyes never left their bodies as he spoke. Then he laid out their starlocks on each of their chests.
The sorrowful empathy that had filled Orra was quickly replaced by a renewed hope. This was what she’d been waiting for. Her eyes shot to the heavens, and while she couldn’t see the light of her fellow Stars, she sensed a growing nearness.
“Quick,” she warned. “Get below. The time is near.”
“But there are others.” He gestured toward the door leading to the rooms below.
She shook her head. “Take them to a different tower. Now go.” She didn’t watch his retreat. Instead, she closed her eyes and held out her arms, beckoning for Andreas to return. He would come for the king’s starlock, and Lumina would come for the queen’s.
The heat grew to a burning fire that should have made her afraid. But she trusted Andreas. As he approached, the heat faded to a dull warmth, signifying they were taking on their human forms. Before she could fully recover, Andreas was wrapping her in a hug.
“You shouldn’t be here,” he whispered, his words harsh with fear.
The tears that sprang to her eyes came from relief, from the reminder that she wasn’t as fully outcast as she’d thought—that someone still cared.
Over his shoulder, Lumina looked on warily, arms folded over her chest and tangled in the black tresses reaching her knees.
Orra couldn’t remember if the other Star had sided with Reyna in the end or if she’d backed up Andreas.
She pulled back to study Andreas’ face. Weariness lined his features. “What’s going on with the Stars?”
He sighed and looked away. “Reyna and some of the others are making decisions and plans we don’t all agree with.
When you led us astray”—she flinched at his words even as she appreciated his straightforward manner—“we were in the minority. We acted alone, and the others refused to help. But now, Reyna’s not in the minority, and I fear her actions will have consequences that reach even further than yours. ”
“So there’s a war among the Stars?”
Andreas glanced back at Lumina, and Orra sensed the wave of guilt flowing through them both. Lumina turned her back on Orra and kneeled before the king and queen. A hum resonated from her that would soon grow into a song, guiding the king and queen to the Sun.
“You’re not fighting her.” She realized the truth even as the words left her lips.
“We’re waiting for the Sun to intervene.”
“Why?” Orra asked. “You have the ability to stop her—or at least to try. Why would you not do that?”
Andreas frowned and stepped away. “You were punished for your choice. Reyna hasn’t lost her status, which leaves us all wondering if perhaps she’s right, and perhaps her methods are blessed by the Sun.”
Orra shook her head. “You cannot presume to know how the Sun works. I don’t understand it either.
But you know what’s right and wrong. We always need to stand in the light, even if the Sun is silent.
Reyna was working with Mayvus. Half-lights might overemphasize the abhorrence of blood magic.
They don’t understand it’s not the blood that makes it wrong.
” She pointed back in the direction of the council room where Mayvus’ body likely lay.
“But every time that woman spilled blood, she was working against the Sun. She welcomed the dark spirits. Now that she’s dead, where do you think her own spirit went? ”
“To the sprites,” Andreas whispered. “She’s joined their ranks, and now her destiny is to never become more than a dark spirit.”
Orra rubbed her palms over her face. “I should have spent more time studying the sprites. I should have tried to understand if there was a way for them to change.”
Andreas shook his head. “They made their decisions in their lifetimes. Their time as sprites is an echo of their existence. They’re merely creatures between worlds fighting to remain alive a bit longer.”
Orra shuddered. “And yet Reyna was serving a woman who became one.”
Andreas rubbed the back of his neck, his face twisted in indecision. “Reyna told you the truth. We didn’t intend to work with Mayvus. But one thing led to another, and some of the Stars have been…distracted.”
Orra kneeled beside the bodies of the king and queen, letting Lumina’s song comfort her along with the royal spirits.
Andreas joined her. “I agree with you though. We’ve begun interfering too much. Which is why I wait for the Sun to intervene.”
“It’s not about not interfering,” Orra murmured. “It’s about interfering in ways blessed by the Sun.” She stared down at the king and queen, not understanding how the Stars could have let it go this far. She placed a hand on an arm of each of the deceased. “And this? Is this blessed by the Sun?”
Lumina’s song broke off, and Orra stood, backing away. Just because she was angry with her fellow Stars didn’t mean she should interrupt their song.
Andreas’ warm hand rested on her back, and she closed her eyes, absorbing its comfort.
“If the Sun doesn’t stop Reyna,” he said, “I can’t rally the other Stars to do it.
As long as her way is not blocked, they believe her actions are blessed.
” His voice shifted to a whisper, maybe to tune out Lumina or maybe to emphasize his point.
“But you can still change things. Break down the barriers and bring back Bryton. It might be the only thing that makes the other Stars reconsider.”
The weight of his suggestion added to the pain she already carried. “Where is the iron cutlass?”
“With Pacran, just like your people assumed.”
She turned an accusing glare on him. “You’ve been watching us.”
Andreas squeezed her hands in his. “I have been rooting for you, even if I must do it in secret.”
“Thank you,” she whispered. “And the onyx stone? Where did Mayvus leave it?”
He shook his head and pulled his hands away. “Mayvus wasn’t the only one who used the stone. She’s no longer its keeper.”
Orra’s eyebrows rose in question.
“Anara has it.”
Orra didn’t have magic to waste on searching out the truth. “Who is Anara?”
Andreas glanced back at Lumina, whose song had come to an end. “Reyna will say I’m interfering too much.”
“Please, Andreas.” She grabbed his hands once more. “Don’t you want me to take down the barriers and bring Bryton back?”
He hesitated, but Lumina began glowing, signifying their time was up. “Ask Sylmar.” He gently released her hands and matched Lumina’s glow. “I think you’re right, Orra. I think we misunderstood the Sun.”
She blinked back tears, overcome by their brightness even as she strained to catch his words.
“The Sun left you here for a purpose. I’m sorry we’ve abandoned you to face it alone. But I suspect that too was part of the Sun’s plan.”
She crouched and shielded her face, unsure if she could hear the last of his words correctly.
“You’ll succeed, Orra. If the Sun wills it, you’ll succeed when the time is right.”
The heat and light disappeared so fast Orra gasped and fell back, her gaze resting on the static stars above. Cold air made goosebumps rise as she shivered and crawled to the king’s and queen’s ashes.
“Thank you, Andreas,” she whispered, laying her head on the hot stones where he’d been.