Chapter 17 Melting Snow
Melting Snow
Aurora briefly considered skipping breakfast and never leaving her room again, but the only thing worse than having to show her face to the Starmaker would be hiding away. She took a deep breath, steadied herself, and walked into the dining room with her head held high.
The Starmaker was already seated, eating his breakfast with Constance beside him, and he glanced up at Aurora when she walked in. He said nothing, but she caught the faintest twitch of his lips.
She glared at him.
Frederick and Ina stood against the wall, eyes moving between Aurora and the Starmaker, clearly uncertain of how to react. “The Starmaker and I spoke last night,” Aurora said. “I assure you we are fine.”
“That’s very good to hear, miss,” Ina said, and Aurora gave her a pointed look. “I apologize. Aurora.”
“Thank you. And Ina, I must apologize to you. The wedding you arranged was truly beautiful, and I’m very sorry that all your hard work was overshadowed by my premature departure. You did an incredible job with it.”
Ina looked moved, and she gave Aurora a small smile. “Thank you, Aurora. I’m very glad you liked it.”
Frederick hurried over and pulled out Aurora’s chair for her, and she sat down, looking at the Starmaker. He avoided her eyes, concentrating very intently on the food in front of him, his face straining.
“Go on, then,” Aurora said dryly. “Get it out.”
The Starmaker let out one long loud laugh, then cleared his throat and blotted his mouth with a napkin. “My apologies,” he said.
Ina and Frederick looked deeply confused.
Aurora turned her attention to her breakfast, but her mood soured when she saw the headline on the front page of Eternal Reverie.
STARMAKER LEFT AT THE ALTAR BY ICE-COLD brIDE
“Clever,” she said under her breath. All of Reverie now knew that she was the Starmaker Rising, and this was the headline they’d printed?
The article didn’t have a byline, but Aurora was sure it was Farren who’d written it.
She’d thought their conversation had been as amicable as possible, but it seemed she had been wrong.
“Surely you could have written something better than this drivel,” the Starmaker said, and Aurora looked up in surprise. He’d actually managed to make her feel better.
“I could have,” she agreed.
They were quiet as they ate their breakfast, and then they put on their cloaks and boarded the sleigh. “Would it be okay with you if we visit my family today after pulling in the light? I feel I should see them after yesterday’s events.”
“I suppose so. It would be beneficial to check on the woods that far back, too—see how the phlox is doing.”
The Starmaker was back to his normal self, but there seemed to be a level of comfort between them that hadn’t been there before. Perhaps that was the natural progression of things when one embarrassed oneself so spectacularly, but either way, Aurora was grateful for it.
She was glad she would soon see her family.
It wasn’t just the wedding and all of Reverie knowing about her new role that was weighing on her, but her magic as well.
She had stopped making any meaningful progress, and she worried there was something wrong, that she wasn’t strong enough to take on her new role.
Visiting her family’s cottage would undoubtedly make her feel better, and she hoped it might help her figure out the key to moving forward.
After another frustrating morning of trying and failing to hold more light than she previously had, Aurora was eager to leave the glacier behind and head to her cottage beyond the reach of the Sun.
“I can feel it inside you,” the Starmaker said when they got back in the sleigh.
“My magic. As more of it transfers from me to you, as more of it lives in you, I feel it.” The Starmaker spoke quietly, and he did not look at her.
“When we were pulling the light just now, your frustration ran through me as if it were my own. I don’t understand it,” he said, almost breathless.
He paused. “It seems we are connected now.”
Even if Aurora hadn’t already been fighting against her changing feelings, his words would have all but ensured that there was a shift between them.
She couldn’t name it, couldn’t even describe it, yet she knew it had happened.
She forced her eyes from him and took a breath, big and deep, as if she’d gone without air for too long.
“I do not like to think of it,” Aurora said. “Taking your magic.” She knew that as soon as all of it transferred to her, he would be mortal, susceptible to all the things he had once been protected from—aging and illness and death. It tore at her insides.
“It is the way things are,” he said simply.
“It may be easy for you to accept, but remember that you have had years to get comfortable with what will happen, while I have had mere weeks.”
The Starmaker exhaled, looking out at the trees as they passed by in a blur. “I suppose you are right.”
Just then, the words he had spoken when they’d met in the woods came rushing back to her, and a sharp pain began in her chest as she remembered them: I’ve been waiting a long while for you.
She didn’t know how she hadn’t recognized it before, and she looked at the Starmaker as if seeing him for the first time.
He wanted his reign to be over. He was ready to pass on his magic and responsibilities, and Aurora suddenly saw how truly tired he was.
They wanted different things: Aurora hoped she could take as long as she needed to learn how to be the next Starmaker, while the Starmaker wanted to prepare her as quickly as possible.
It made so much sense to her now, their constant frustrations and annoyances with each other—they were working toward different goals, and the realization caused a seismic shock inside her.
Aurora had spent most of her eighteen years mapping out the safest path for her life, and she had done a brilliant job of it. But as she watched the Starmaker, she felt that safety slipping away like melting snow, and the tighter she held on to it, the faster it vanished.
“You are staring,” the Starmaker said, not bothering to face her.
He was right, but Aurora couldn’t help herself. He was stunning, impossible to turn from even though it hurt to look at him. Finally—and with some effort—she pulled her gaze away, but she couldn’t stop thinking about her revelation, couldn’t stop her mind from spinning.
The Starmaker had welcomed Aurora’s arrival, even knowing he would lose his immortality to her. And suddenly, when Aurora looked out toward the horizon, all she could see was unbearable grief and loneliness. How could the future hold anything else when the Starmaker was so eager to end his reign?
Aurora was thankful when her cottage appeared in the distance, and she practically launched herself from the sleigh when they were close enough. The door opened just in time, and Aurora ran directly into Elsie’s arms.
“Are you okay?” Elsie whispered as Aurora’s grip tightened, and at first Aurora didn’t answer. She just held on to her sister.
“I’m okay,” she said, finally pulling away when Mama appeared from the kitchen, drying her hands on a towel.
“What are you doing here, darling? Is everything all right?” she asked, ushering Aurora inside. She followed her mother, then turned to see the Starmaker standing in the doorway, clearly unsure if he should enter.
“Come inside,” Aurora said, and hesitantly, he took a step. Aurora turned to her mother. “Everything is fine. We need to check on the woods behind the house, and I wanted to stop by and make sure you were okay after yesterday.”
“So you are well, then?”
“Yes, of course,” Aurora said.
Her mother’s expression changed then from one of concern to one of displeasure. “I’m only asking because I cannot fathom why you would embarrass yourself and your family so thoroughly if you are well, as you say.”
Aurora looked at her mother with surprise. She hadn’t expected her family to be happy about what had happened, but she hadn’t expected this, either. “I’m sorry. I thought I could go through with it, but I was wrong. I wish I had known sooner so I could have spared us all the spectacle.”
Aurora caught sight of Eternal Reverie on the table and quickly looked away, but the headline continued to flash in her mind. Just then, Aspen walked in the door, looking from Aurora to the Starmaker and back again.
“Is everything okay?”
“Yes,” Aurora said with exasperation, then gave Aspen an apologetic look. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t expecting to be asked that question so many times upon my arrival.”
“Surely you can’t blame us,” her mother said, shaking her head. “Honestly, Aurora, what were you thinking?”
“It didn’t feel genuine,” Aurora said, and she could hear how unsatisfying the answer was. How weak. “I got mad, and I panicked. I’m so sorry you won’t get your glare line.”
“You made an agreement with the Starmaker, and you went back on your word. Not only to him but to all of us.” She didn’t sound mad, though. She sounded discouraged, and it was then that Aurora understood how much her mother had been counting on a line to the castle.
“I’m sorry, Mama.”
“It is not an easy thing, what your daughter is doing.” Aurora was shocked to hear the Starmaker’s voice behind her; she had almost forgotten he was there. “We will check on your phlox regularly and do what we can to ensure that you remain safe from the Frost. You have my word.”
Aurora stared at him, not believing what she was hearing. Was he…coming to her defense? After she had utterly humiliated him?
“You’re right, of course,” Mama said after several moments, her voice softer now. “I suppose I got swept up in the excitement of it all.”
“I can hardly blame you,” Aurora said. “That was kind of the point.”