Chapter 21 Seven White Wolves #2
Then she heard something in the distance.
She forced herself to stay conscious, and she tried to pull away from Farren, scared that some of his friends were coming as backup.
The fever and the magic raged within her, and she began to worry that she might never make it back to the castle.
She tried to conjure her magic, hoping it would give her enough strength to walk, but she was too weak.
“Please,” Farren said, his voice urgent, “don’t make me go home empty-handed.”
“What are you talking about?” Aurora asked. She pulled against Farren’s grasp, but he didn’t let go, and she finally gave up, sinking into the snowy earth. She was all out of strength, and she took a deep breath, staring up into the night sky.
“My home may not be in the darkness, but we, too, were expecting a glare line.”
Aurora’s head was spinning, and she couldn’t follow what he was saying. “But the paper is doing well and provides a good living. Why would you need a glare line to the least magical home in all of Reverie?”
“It was doing well. It turns out the villagers aren’t very tolerant of disparaging headlines about the Starmaker Rising.
We’ve lost almost ten percent of our readership over the past two days, and my father is furious with me.
” Farren shoved a hand through his hair.
“But we have needed the line for a while. All of our crops die, and we can’t figure it out.
A glare line to your home—where you somehow manage to grow food in the most hostile of environments—would help a great deal.
” He paused. “It didn’t matter as much before, but now that the paper isn’t bringing in what it used to, we must work our land. ”
“Farren, I am struggling to feel sympathy for you at the moment. Please get to the point.” A branch broke in the distance, and Farren’s grip tightened as he looked at Aurora with panicked eyes.
“I want you to create a glare line between our homes.”
“What?” Aurora asked. “Did you truly bring me all the way out here to intimidate me into giving you a glare line?”
“It’s only fair. You left me with no recourse, gave me no say in our relationship ending.”
“Just as I don’t have a say in whether I’m the next Starmaker!
” Aurora looked at Farren, hoping the strength of her voice could make up for the physical strength she lacked.
“I do not have that kind of power; glare lines are created by the Sun and her alone. But even if I did have that ability, I would not use it for you. You kidnapped me, you have put me at risk, and you are holding my wrist so tightly it hurts.”
“My father,” Farren started, a choking sound escaping his mouth. “He is irate. I need to go home with something. Please.”
“I will not help you. Do not ask me again.”
Aurora had often read stories about how quickly one could fall in love, but she was discovering that the reverse was true as well. Any lingering feelings she had for Farren vanished in an instant, entirely gone, almost as if she had never loved him at all.
The woods around them suddenly filled with low, deep growls, and Aurora once again tried and failed to sit up. Then seven white wolves came into view, teeth bared, circling them with slow, deliberate steps.
“These wolves will do exactly as I ask.” The Starmaker’s voice was patient, ensuring that each syllable was perfectly timed.
It poured over Aurora like a warm bath, and she craned her neck to see him.
When her gaze found his, she thought he was the best thing she’d ever laid eyes upon.
He continued, “Release her at once, and then explain to me why I shouldn’t have your arm ripped from your body. ”
Farren’s hand fell, finally letting her go, and Aurora rubbed her wrist. She hoped that Farren had held on to her out of panic; he had always been somewhat afraid of his father, and Aurora knew how hard it would be for Farren to return home and face him.
But still, he had crossed so many lines, and Aurora would never be able to see him the way she once had.
The Starmaker was watching her carefully, his eyes moving over her, looking for injuries.
“I am well,” she said to him, her voice soft. “But I could use some help up.”
He reached her in two long strides, picking her up off the ground with ease, cradling her in his arms. Aurora could see the relief in his eyes now that he held her, but it vanished as soon as he looked at Farren once more.
“Well?” the Starmaker asked.
“You’re the one who hurt her,” Farren said, practically growling the words. “I saw what happened on the glacier. I was trying to help her.”
“All you have done is keep the Starmaker Rising dangerously cold and unacceptably hungry.”
Aurora tried to stay present, but it was so hard, and her entire body went slack in the Starmaker’s arms.
“Do not pretend you care for her,” Farren said, resentment dripping from the words.
The Starmaker tightened his hold on Aurora. She tried to keep her eyes open, but she was so tired. “I would not dare insult her with such a deceit.”
Aurora could feel the rise and fall of his chest, could feel the tension in his arms and shoulders.
He had been worried, and it was written in every muscle and every movement.
She rolled her head back to look up at him, into his fierce golden eyes, and for one beat of her heart, it was just the two of them.
Farren and the wolves and the cave faded away until only Aurora and the Starmaker remained, watching each other in a field of snow.
“Take me home,” Aurora said, the final word hanging in the space between them like the scent of the Starmaker’s most fragrant roses. Sweet and strong and bright.
He nodded, then looked up at Farren. “If you ever come near her again without her express permission, I will throw you into the darkest part of the forest where the wolves and the Frost will compete for your flesh.” The Starmaker’s voice was so calm, so cold, that it made Aurora shiver.
He turned without another word, Aurora’s eyelids heavy and her head pounding.
“Please don’t let me go,” she said to the Starmaker.
“I am here for as long as you want me,” he said, his voice stern but soft, as if he was taking a vow.
The sleigh came into view, and the wolves ran ahead as the Starmaker slid onto the bench, keeping Aurora tightly in his arms. He covered her with a cloak and then a blanket, and when her head settled against his chest, she felt his hand smooth her hair.
“What if I said forever?” she asked as her eyes closed. She had not intended to speak the words aloud, but the way the Starmaker stilled when she said them told her she had done so, and in that moment, she found she didn’t care.
* * *
The Starmaker
Adrenaline coursed through the Starmaker’s veins as he carried Aurora back to the sleigh. His heart pounded in his chest, slamming against his ribs in a frenzy.
He had never felt more alive.
He scowled, but he could not bring himself to loosen his hold on her.
This was very bad indeed.