by J. A. Comley
Following his instructions, Starla turned back to the mirror. Like at the hearing, Starla was aware of him in her mind as well as by her side. She slid the belt around her waist and let the two points meet and fuse. It felt almost like she had willed them to do so.
“Well done,” the High Lord said, stepping away from her and out of her mind. “You make a lovely Galatian.” He held her gaze for a moment before turning towards the door and letting the mirror vanish. Starla felt her cheeks warming at the compliment and scolded herself. She had enough problems without utter foolishness to add to them.
She had seen in his eyes the same question that was looping in her mind. How had she done that? Taking a steadying breath, Starla reordered her thoughts. She had to find the Queen, or her family, first. Finding out about magical abilities could wait. Not for the first time, though, she found herself wondering if Gaby had given her a boon after all.
“So, High Lord, what is first on the tour you've planned?” she asked, desperately trying to pretend that she couldn't still feel his fingers on her shoulder.
The High Lord turned to face her. His eyes took her in, up and down and back again. Starla felt her discomfort grow.
“Here, I got you this as well,” he said. He reached into the package he had brought and pulled out a white, unadorned shawl. “I thought that, well, the women here only wear these in cooler weather but in your memories, the women's clothing wasn't … like this. I thought perhaps this would make you feel more comfortable.”
Starla stepped forward, a smile brightening her face. “Thank you,” she said, taking the shawl and shaking it open. He seemed less formal and cold, today, but she would still keep her wits about her. As she wrapped the shawl around her shoulders, she was thankful to see that it not only covered her cleavage, but was also long enough to cover her to the waist.
Larkel nodded to himself, watching the discomfort disappear. He had been worried that using things he had learned about her through her memories would upset her. Yet he couldn't quite understand her reluctance. He had never met a woman of such obvious beauty who wished to hide it. “We will look for a brooch to hold it in place while we are out, if you like,” he added, noticing that she still held the shawl closed with one hand.
“That would be fantastic,” Starla said, sounding happier. “But how will I pay?”
He waved a hand. “That won't be a problem. The King has given an allowance towards getting you properly dressed. But first, breakfast,” he said and opened the door for her.
Starla gave a small nod of thanks and headed down the stairs ahead of him.
“High Lord!” a voice called to them as they were leaving the inn.
“Ah, the innkeeper. I'll just be a moment,” Larkel said, touching Starla lightly on the shoulder again before leaving her in the doorway.
“High Lord, forgive me, but, er, some of my other guests have … well, they are unsure of the stranger.”
High Lord Larkel let his face become stern. “You are housing her by the King's request. You will house her for as long as he sees fit. Understood?”
“I … but … yes, High Lord,” the innkeeper bowed, hands trembling.
Letting a small smile brighten his face, Larkel continued, “If it helps, let your guests know that I will be staying here, too. As of tonight.”
The innkeeper pasted a smile to his face, his double chin wobbling. “Thank you, High Lord, thank you,” the familiar fear shining in his eyes.
Larkel sighed inwardly. Nothing he did lessened the people's fear of him. At least Starla didn't seem to be afraid, despite having been given reasons to be.
Turning back to the door, the High Lord felt his stomach drop through his feet. The woman wasn't in the door way. Rushing out into the street, he looked left and right. Starla was gone.
Fear tightened his heart. Had he been wrong about her? Kyron's magic was always changing, trying to find a way in. It was all too possible that he had missed some subtle sign. And now she was alone, with no one to take her down should she prove to be a Corruption. Indigo eyes flashing, the High Lord slammed his staff into the ground and opened his mental connection to the Makhi.
Locate Starla as a top priority. Potentially dangerous target. Subdue her and get her away from any citizens. Summon me as soon as she is located.
She wouldn't get far.
***
“Good, you all made it,” the Baron said, looking at the eight men and three women who had assembled around him.
They were standing in one of the city's many shanebury gardens. This one was nicely secluded at this early hour.
“It is dangerous to meet here,” Keeper Thorten said, shifting nervously from foot to foot.
The Baron gave him a long-suffering look. “Time is short,” Braxton whispered. “Vinaria, Yilia, Deled, you three are all attending the Ball in three weeks?”
The three nobles nodded from within their deep cowls.
“Good. I learned that the King has also invited the stranger to it. It will be the perfect opportunity for us to capture her. But in the meantime, we need to find out what that she is hiding. Messrs Thorten and Holsan and Mrs Lanteg, you will use every contact and position at your disposal to make sure her every move is documented. I want to know every word that passes between her and Larkel. Start by finding out where the King is having her housed.”
“Yes, my lord,” they said in unison.
“But I can already answer that last question,” the plump Mrs Lanteg added. “She is here. At this inn. I already have a job here two days a week.”
The Baron smiled briefly at the news.
“Captain Trent, I need you to take Messrs Garten, Rhiken and Frockle out into the forest today. A magmus will be waiting. Inform it of our progress and, if you happen to see any grobblers, give them a description of those pathetic Sacrileons in case they choose to defy the law and return. Add in a description of Starla for good measure. Lastly, if—”
“We are being watched, my lord,” the Makhi whispered for the Baron's ears, alone, adding with it a mental picture of the direction of the spy.
The Baron spun to face the inn. He was able to catch a glimmer of white fabric in one of the upper windows before it vanished.
He turned back and locked eyes with the Makhi.
“The High Lord,” he confirmed.
Cursing Larkel under his breath, the Baron spoke only to the Makhi. “Ditte, we can't risk letting him discover us. Don't share what we have discovered with the other faithful Makhi yet. Just keep watching and waiting. Make sure of those on our side. Do you think he noticed you were Makhi?”
“No, my lord. I have done as you ordered and kept my connection to him slightly open. Enough for me to sense him when he is near, but not enough for him to know I have it open.”
“Good.” Turning back to the group, the Baron addressed them all, forcing his voice to sound calm. “You have your orders. I have mine. I shall want to see you all at dawn tomorrow. Your dreams will tell you when and where,” he finished, dismissing them with a wave of his hand.
As the others dispersed into the bushes, the Baron glanced back up at the window.
“Your end is fast approaching, Larkel,” he hissed, making his way back to the Imperial Circle.
***
Starla carefully put down a delicate crystal brooch shaped like a blossoming flower.
Probably way too expensive. Practical, that's what I'm looking for, she told herself, turning away from the beautiful crystal towards ones that looked metallic.
Out of the window, Starla watched two men stroll, hand in hand. No one on the street seemed scandalised by this. She felt a small smile tug at her lips as she brought up an old memory.
Pierre once returned from a trip to Italy. He enjoyed scandalising Antonio, Elise, Raoul and Starla with talk of the strange customs of far off places. This time, he had been describing how Ancient Greeks would sometimes encourage love between two men. He had even brought her a book on how the ancient Roman
s and Greeks had accepted such behaviour. He told her that it was as normal as any other kind of love. Father Joe had been livid. Though she kept the thoughts to herself, she had felt herself siding with Pierre.
Her smile broadened. Here was a culture that seemed willing to happily accept different kinds of people.
Suddenly, the shop door burst open and three Makhi strode in, staves raised. Starla had just enough time to realise why they were there when she was struck by a spell that seem to freeze her in place. The female Makhi's eyes lost focus for a moment before she turned to the shopkeeper. “The High Lord requests the use of your back room.”
“Of course. This way,” the shopkeeper stammered. Yet despite her timidness for the Makhi, she kept shooting daggers at Starla.
Starla did her best not to panic as she was levitated into a small, dimly lit room, filled along the walls with tiny boxes. Feeling her knees bend against her will, Starla found herself seated on a rough-hewn stool. The two men took up positions either side of the door, while the woman came to stand behind Starla. There was no mistaking the threatening way they held their staves.
The High Lord strode into the small room moments later, his indigo eyes ablaze, night-black hair windswept. His power seemed too large for the small storage room.
“Release her.” His deep voice resonated with command.
Starla had to catch her balance quickly as the spell released her limbs.
Thoughts racing, Starla realised what had happened. The High Lord had assumed that she had tried to run away.
But then why the hostile take down? She felt her heart sink as she realised. They had let her go at the trial, but they didn't trust her. Not one bit. They also had no intention of letting her leave while she kept her secret.
“Leave.” His voice was calm, but not in a reassuring way. It was more like the deathly still before a storm.
One of the Makhi hesitated.
“Your help is appreciated. Now return to your duties; she is my responsibility.”
As the Makhi bowed and slipped out behind the High Lord, Starla met his eyes for the first time. He seemed to be trying to read her mind without using a spell.
“What were you thinking?” he demanded, finally.
Starla felt ashamed. Not only had she not realised that they would be keeping tabs on her, she had actually been foolish enough to believe that the High Lord had nothing better to do than show a stranger around town.
“Tell me where you were going.” His voice had an edge of anger to it now.
Starla felt her own anger rise. She stood up, coming to within a pace of Larkel, her emerald eyes hard as stones.
“This store sells brooches. I saw the outdoor display from the doorway of the inn and thought I would come and have a look. I forgot that I was a dangerous criminal that needs constant supervision.”
Larkel took a step back. He had thought she was intelligent. “You are really that naïve? This planet is at war! We have spies trying to infiltrate us every day. And what, you thought that you could just walk about? I told the King about you. I told him you were keeping a secret on the Sacrileons' orders. I told him you could use magic without seeming to realise what you were doing. Without my being able to sense it. Now, tell me, as the leader and protector of his people, do you really expect the King to take someone like that on their word that they are not our enemy?”
Starla dropped her eyes to the ground and spun on her heel to face the tiny window on the far wall above the boxes.
“I guess I was that naïve,” she whispered. “I was foolish enough to think that … never mind. Look, I'm sorry. I won't go anywhere else without telling you.”
Larkel squeezed his eyes shut. This wasn't going how he had hoped. She looked genuinely ashamed of her behaviour. He smothered a bitter laugh. He was more angry from wounded pride than anything else.
The terrifying and powerful High Lord unable to keep track of one young woman.
“Starla,” he sighed, “I … look, we're all in a state of high alert. You are not a prisoner. You just—”
“I just can't leave. You don't need to explain, High Lord,” she said, turning back towards him, her voice cold. “You also don't need to keep up the pretence of wanting to show me around the city. Certainly the High Lord of the Makhi Order of Trianon has better things to do.”
Larkel felt his hopes for the day plummet. His frustration grew. He needed to fulfil his orders quickly. Moderating his voice, he decided on telling half the truth.
“Starla, I really did want to show you around. That wasn't an order from the King. He just wanted you watched to make sure that my vote of trust wasn't misplaced.”
Starla raised her eyes to meet his. She seemed surprised by the tone of his voice.
“I guess I should have told you,” he continued, “I just … well you seemed very excited about seeing the city and I didn't want to ruin it with thoughts of hidden eyes everywhere.” He shrugged.
Starla just stared at him. Her feelings warring inside her. She had been naïve. But he had made it seem like she could trust him. She wasn't sure she could, now. Not after he had ordered a full-scale manhunt to find her. Not after the warnings of the Sacrileons. Not after the fear every single person seemed to have for him. Yet he seemed to be being honest now. Mostly. She hadn't missed his frustrated look. No doubt he had been ordered to uncover her secret.
Which is perfectly reasonable, Starla told herself sternly. If I had people to protect, I'd have done the same.
Suddenly, Larkel's stomach growled, sounding overly loud in the small space. Starla almost laughed at the look of embarrassment on his face.
“I don't suppose you'd still like to get breakfast?” he asked, attempting a smile, the scars on his face twisting.
Starla let herself smile. There was just something about him. Something beneath the ice. Although, now that she knew he was reporting everything back to the King, she would have to rethink her way of getting him to help her to contact the Queen.
“Yes, thank you.”
“Wait, Starla, please,” he said as they crossed through the store. “You came in here for a brooch. Did you find one you liked?”
“Not really. There are so many,” she said, moving past the crystal brooches over to the display beside them.
There, she found a small brooch, shaped like a bird in flight. The bird seemed to be carved from a purple-blue stone. Emblazoned on the bird's chest was a shining gold star.
“I like this one but I can't read the price tag. I can find another if this one—” Starla trailed off at the look on the High Lord's face: surprise, bound by sheer concentration, and in his eyes mistrust blossomed. Come to think of it, the shopkeeper had a very similar look on her face.
The High Lord swept his gaze from the brooch to Starla and back. “Of all the brooches in the store, why that one?” he demanded. He sounded almost angry.
Confused by his cold tone, Starla put the brooch back. “You asked me if I found anything I liked. That one caught my eye. Obviously it shouldn't have. I'll pick another.”
“No.” Spinning to the shopkeeper, he quickly handed over the correct change, scooped up the brooch and strode out of the store, Starla hastening to follow.
“Are you going to tell me what's wrong with the brooch?” Starla demanded as the High Lord led the way towards a small restaurant three streets from the brooch store. His brow furrowed.
“Please, sit,” he said, offering Starla a chair. Taking the chair opposite, he waved the trembling waiter away before placing the brooch on the table between them. “Do you know what this is?”
Feeling slightly amused by his intensity over a simple brooch, Starla shook her head. “No, I don't. I mean, obviously it is a bird of some kind, but that wouldn't explain your reaction to it.”
Larkel watched her silently for a moment, seeming to try and decide whether to believe her or not. Finally, Starla heaved a sigh. “You can use one of your truth beams, if it will speed this along.”
> Larkel cast the idea aside. No, if he was going to get her to trust him, then he would have to trust her. At least a little.
“No, sorry. It's just very strange that out of hundreds of brooches, you'd pick the one you're named for.”
Starla felt her eyes pop wide. “What?”
The High Lord gave a quiet chuckle. “You really didn't know. This bird is called a starla. They are pretty impressive birds. The males have golden inner feathers that they display for courting and the females all have that gold star on their chests. This brooch is carved from one of their eggshells. They are made of a special, very rare crystal. That's why it seems to capture, rather than reflect, the light.”
Starla picked up the brooch and ran her thumb over the bird.
So my parents must have been here at some point. Or were from here. Again, the growing possibility that she was from here rose inside her like a choking vine. If she wasn't human, would they let her return home? Suddenly, something else he said took hold.
“Very rare crystal? I didn't want anything costly.” She trailed off as the High Lord chuckled again.
“No need to worry yourself,” he said, accepting the menus the waiter had dashed forwards to give before the High Lord's fingers had moved more than a centimetre in his direction.
“You never did explain to me how the High Commander could be in her sixties or seventies when she looks like she's in her twenties,” she said, trying to lighten the mood as the waiter stood attentively nearby, awaiting more summons.
Three other people, eager for breakfast, began to approach the restaurant before swiftly veering off-course as they noticed the High Lord and their eyes filled with fear.
“Oh, actually the Commander is over a thousand years old,” he said, remembering her astonishment during the trial. “Galatians may look similar to humans, but we age differently, from what I have studied. We live for many thousands of years, usually about four or five thousand years. Makhi live a little longer because our magic is constantly healing our bodies.”
