by J. A. Comley
“That's okay. Thank you for your help.” Starla said, feeling the small hope vanish. The Cosmaltians she had shown the bracelet to had said that the engraving seemed to be the work of a Brosney, a metal-wielder, but none could identify the crafter's mark.
“Where is your father?”
He winced, “He is consoling a family. There were two Corruption attacks in the City yesterday. Some refugees got caught up in them.”
“I am so sorry.”
He nodded mutely. Starla watched him leave with a heavy heart.
Had Larkel been forced to deal with those attacks too?
In an increasingly melancholic state, she let her thoughts stay with the High Lord. Mostly, she had watched how the people responded to him. These people didn't know him as the city-dwellers did. Most were not even Galatian. The fear and hate that followed him around the City faded here. Here the people saw what she saw: compassion, kindness and a determination to set things right.
Foolish girl, she scolded herself. Again Starla felt the tears sting her eyes. After this morning, he probably wouldn't show up at all. It had been awful. After a week of uncomfortable silence every time their paths crossed, she had thought it couldn't get worse. But then he had shown up at her door, asking for an explanation.
Starla stared up at the High Lord, always so solid and sure, now unable to speak coherently, his eyes holding back pain for which she knew she was responsible. But she needed to know how many gifts of his she had accepted unwittingly.
“Did the King order you to house me here?” she answered with a question, her voice made cold in her effort not to rush to him and apologise.
“What?” he said, looking confused.
“Did he order you to buy me expensive tunics and hair clips?” Starla said, interrupting him. “Did he really make me his 'honoured guest'?”
He narrowed his eyes, sounding more like his old self. “Who has been speaking to you?”
***
Larkel sat up in his chair, remembering how Starla's eyes had filled with disappointment as his question had confirmed the answers to hers.
“So it is true. You did this all on your own. Why?” she asked, the last word slicing through his heart.
Of course she wouldn't want his favours and who could blame her.
The High Lord shut his eyes, remembering what he had felt when he had read her mind in the prison cell. She had been told he was dangerous and untrustworthy and yet, when they met, she, herself had had an open opinion. She had a kindness and beauty within that intrigued him. And she had looked at him as if he had no scars. Looked at him without fear after the attack. Seeing her now, emerald eyes hard with accusation, he couldn't manage to speak.
“Was it all manipulation?” Starla asked into the silence. “Were you trying to make me trust you so that I would tell you my secret? Did you think I could be bought?” she grimaced, as if wishing to take the words back.
“Is that really what you think of me?” his voice harsh from holding back pain, his eyes narrowing at the accusation.
“Honestly, I don't know what to think. I had wanted to try … to get to know you but you've not been around,” she said, stepping forward, eyes wet with unshed tears.
***
Starla swiped at a stray tear, turning back towards the cart that had brought the new supplies. As she picked up the next basket, the morning's events continued to replay in her head.
She stepped closer, wanting him to know that he had a chance to set it right, that she didn't really believe any of the words that had just poured from her mouth in anger, in embarrassment at her realisation that her sudden rejection must have come as a surprise after so much acceptance.
“You made it clear when you returned the clips that you didn't want me around,” he said bitterly, his face twisting. “It's because of him, isn't it? Raoul? Is he so possessive that you cannot even have a friend?” he blurted out, his anger making him speak words he would have normally never voiced.
Starla froze halfway to him, genuine confusion in her eyes.
“Raoul? He has nothing to do with this.” She shook her head. Was it possible that Larkel had just hinted at—
No. No way. She rejected the train of thought. Out of the two of them, Starla was the only foolish one here.
“You lied to me. I want to know why,” she said. She strove to keep her voice even.
Stepping back again, she pulled away from him, fighting to hold back the tears even as her heart ached.
In the refugee camp, Starla knelt behind the cart and finally let her tears flow.
***
Larkel walked back to the window in his office, looking out as if he could see her without the looking glass. He had watched her from afar, watched her gentleness and kindness win over everyone in that camp. Everyone looked happier when she approached. Everyone knew her name. Shaking his head in regret, he made himself remember the rest.
Starla's words had forced him to take responsibility for every decision he had made since the King asked him to see that she was well looked after. She was clearly about to start crying. Because of him. He cursed himself for revealing so much. Feeling wretched, he had turned away from her.
Why had he lied? He felt his own tears spill over as the honest answer came. He was afraid. Afraid of what she would think of him if they had become closer, if she had found out what everyone else knew about him, that the side of him she had seen in the street had an even darker beginning.
“Makhi Adronai will be outside in one hour,” he said to her, unable to keep his voice level.
He had run straight here after that. Now, as he stared towards the refugee camp, he felt fresh tears coursing down his cheeks. Such a beautiful, kind spirit. That sort of bond wasn't meant for him.
***
“Oh, my dear girl, what happened?” exclaimed Horato, as his shadow fell over Starla where she knelt in the dirt, her face still wet with tears. “Come. Come with me.”
Inside the main aid tent, Starla collapsed into a plush sturdy chair as Horato began to make some golap berry tea.
“Here, drink up,” he said, gently, handing her a steaming cup of the sweet tea. “Do you want to talk about it?”
Starla looked up at the ancient Makhi's eyes, one purple, one blue. “How long have you known L… the High Lord?”
Horato gave a sad, knowing smile. “I thought this had to do with why he has been here for only half-days,” he muttered, stroking his moustache. “I've known Larkel since he was born. I served his father. We were friends. What has that foolish boy gone and done?”
After a moments hesitation, Starla started right at the beginning and told him everything she could while still keeping her promise to the Guardians.
***
“Enter,” Larkel said, after making sure his eyes and cheeks were dry.
“High Lord,” Grand Makhi Redkin bowed. “I have—” He stopped, seeing the redness in Larkel's eyes. “Larkel, what has—”
“Your earlier message said you had important findings, Makhi Gullit,” Larkel said, forcing Starla out of his mind.
The old Makhi frowned, cat ears flicking back.
“Yes, my Lord.” He shook his head before handing over the chart he was carrying. “Here. If you look at the latest projection charts from the power surge that caused the Shield to fail, you can see that it exactly matches the others from the previous year.”
“So, after a year of trying, whoever Kyron's spies are have finally figured out how to break the Shield Connectors,” the High Lord murmured, noting how the spikes centred on the binding spells between the power of the Sacred Stones and his own power.
“Exactly, High Lord.” He paused, waiting for Larkel's full attention. “We have also managed to match the energy pattern to a source.”
Larkel looked up sharply. “You found the perpetrator?”
Redkin gave a sad chuckle. “The same perpetrator as always, High Lord. The energy pattern matches that of a magmus' mental strike, only, it
has been amplified.”
Larkel rose, and began to pace behind his desk.
“High Lord, if there is a magmus in the wood, that close to the city, we must investigate. It must be destroyed.”
The High Lord paused mid-stride and looked at the robed figure standing before his desk. Redkin Gullit was a veteran, having served the previous two High Lords: Makhi Hodan and Makhi Jari, Larkel's father. When Larkel became High Lord, he could think of no one better to be his second-in-command than Redkin, who had served the Order as a whole, faithfully, for nearly six thousand years, refusing to retire.
“Redkin, you know we cannot leave the City,” Larkel said, frustration colouring his tone. “If that idiot of a Baron hadn't exiled the Sacrileons, they might have helped us.”
“One may yet help,” Redkin said, a broad smile on his face. He continued as Larkel raised a questioning eyebrow. “Gaby's Sacred Stone has been registering external power spikes for about a week,” he finished, handing over another graph.
Larkel wanted to laugh. “I should have known she wouldn't leave. Cloaking her power. Well done.” The High Lord's brow furrowed. It appeared that Gaby had started using her power again the day Larkel had seen the Baron and his minions in the inn's garden. The day he had spent with Starla. “See if you can make contact with her. Secretly,” he added, remembering the Makhi with the Baron. “And try not to frighten her.”
Redkin smiled conspiratorially. “Yes, High Lord.” He took a seat, uninvited. His voice assumed a fatherly tone. “Now, Larkel, would you like to tell me what has you so distracted? Although, I'm guessing the young lady with golden hair and emerald eyes has a lot to do with it. Everyday, you have demanded a mind link for … research purposes.” His tone made it clear that the excuse had never been believed. “This morning you refused the link, saying you had completed your research and were sure she wasn't a Corruption. Did I miss something?”
“It's not that.” Larkel breathed a heavy sigh. “I don't know what to do, Redkin. She found out that I had chosen to do all the things I did. Not under orders. And she … seemed unhappy about it. About me. About what my actions might mean.”
“You mean you hadn't told her yourself?” Redkin interrupted, surprised. Larkel had kept his own mind carefully hidden during their links. Now he knew why. “That doesn't sound like the man your father raised. No wonder she is unhappy. Being lied to is not a happy event.”
“It's not. I just didn't … she's—”
Redkin laughed. “Ha! Our great High Lord, lost for words,” He continued on quickly as Larkel shot him a glare. “I know. Ever since she got here, she's all you talk about, every dinner, the whole dinner long.” His joking tone turned serious as Larkel looked up at him, pain in his eyes. “I did as you asked, and, um, Lanteg? Yes, Fla'ik Lanteg was in Starla's room that night.”
“So I was right. This was all the Baron's doing.”
Redkin frowned again. “You were right, High Lord Larkel. But you are also wrong. If you had been honest from the start, Mrs Lanteg would have had nothing to work with.”
Larkel slumped back in his chair, nodding, shame colouring his cheeks.
“Larkel, you haven't yet told me why she's so important, or why you lied,” Redkin prodded, gently.
Larkel gazed at him for a moment, calculating.
“Here, I'll show you,” he said extending his hand. Quickly, he showed him what he had felt in her mind, memories of what he had seen since then. “Do you understand now?”
“Yes.” Redkin's voice held a sorrowful note under his fatherly smile. “Then you know what you have to do, Larkel.”
Larkel looked up, his eyes brightening a little with hope, even as something darker lurked in the background. “Could she even consider it?”
“You won't know until you try.”
“But the Order. There have to be traitors among us and—”
“I promise to take care of our brothers and sisters, High Lord. I believe Makhi Ditte to be in league with the Baron. He'll be a good place to start. If I can get some evidence of where his loyalties lie, we should be well on our way. But you? You need to get over to that girl and sort things out. We cannot have a High Lord who is beside himself with distraction and guilt. Whatever the outcome, whatever her choice, you need to resolve this today.” Bowing formally, staff across his chest, Redkin left the High Lord's office with the rolling gait of his people.
Watching the Grand Makhi and life-long friend leave, Larkel shook his head. Taking a deep breath, he ordered his thoughts. First, he would try and strengthen the Shield Connectors and address the many papers awaiting his approval, then he would focus on Starla.
***
Starla finished in a rush, trying to get the words out before her tears returned. Horato pulled his chair closer and patted Starla lightly on the shoulder.
“There now, miss Starla.”
“I'm sorry,” she said, wiping her eyes. “Thank you for listening. I will get back to work now.”
“Now, what would be the point in listening if I didn't try and help,” Horato smiled gently, motioning her to stay seated. “As I said earlier, I have known Larkel since he was born, long before he ever became the powerful High Lord of today. I was close friends with his father, who was High Lord before him. I have watched him grow up, make mistakes and become who he is today.” He smiled, as if remembering better times. “Now, in this war we have all lost something, Larkel included. And what we have lost is private and not the business of others. But what I can tell you is that the Larkel I have known his whole life is not capable of manipulation or malice. I am not saying that he wouldn't like to know your secret. As High Lord, that information has the potential to help us win this war.” He waited, letting Starla put things into perspective. “But as a man, well, any kindness he has shown is genuinely given, without wanting anything in return. I would stake my life on it.”
Starla smiled as the seed of hope stirred in her heart again.
“As to the matter of your family, I would consult the Royal Library. Or even the Makhi Library; they keep track of all travel between other planets and ours. Now, let's not leave our charges waiting.”
“Thank you, Makhi Horato.”
She rose, dusting off her tunic. Bowing, she returned to her duties, eagerly awaiting lunch time.
***
“Starla!” Horato called, hours later.
“Yes?” she replied, still feeling hollow inside. The High Lord had not shown up at lunch time today. She wondered if he would be there tomorrow. Numbly, she imagined what it would be like if she never saw him again. It hurt realising exactly how fond of him she had become. How much she looked forward to watching his brow furrow as he listened intently to some stranger's plight. Or how her heart quickened when she caught him watching her.
“Are you listening?”
“Oh! I'm sorry, Horato,” Starla said, giving him her full attention.
“I was saying that I have a roster of guards coming in tomorrow. They will be volunteering here for a week.”
“You're saying I mustn't come?”
“There'll be a Captain ordering them about their duties. She has requested that no civilian volunteers be present.” Horato shrugged apologetically. “You are welcome to return the week after that.”
Starla smiled. “Of course, my lord. It will be good for the camp to have more than enough volunteers for a change. I will be back when they're done.”
Watching the rotund Makhi waddle off, Starla sighed and headed for the beginning of the footpath, where her Makhi escort to the Inn would be waiting. She wondered if she could organise a trip to the library in the week's worth of free time ahead of her. She felt another pang at the thought of going about the city without Larkel.
Rounding the last tent, Starla froze and her stomach did a somersault as the tall figure of the High Lord appeared before her.
“Hello, Starla,” Larkel said with a faint colour rising in his cheeks. “I was wondering if you would like to take a
walk?”
Chapter 9
Happy Birthday
Starla took a calming breath. Feeling buoyed by the hopefulness she saw in the indigo eyes that watched her, she gave a shy smile.
“Yes, a walk sounds lovely, thank you.”
Seeming to fight for control, Larkel began to lead her through the streets, up towards the Tower Wall. When they passed through his Shield, Starla tensed.
“I thought it would be better if we spoke somewhere private,” he said, by way of explanation.
Starla felt her heart begin to race. Talk. Not trusting her voice, she simply nodded her agreement.
The houses of the Imperial Circle were beyond opulent. The glass that seemed to define the Imperial City was carved into fantastic, mythical beasts and soaring columns.
The High Lord moved away from Starla to open a lock on a small gate in a fence that surrounded the beginnings of the small forest she had seen from the cliffs.
“You didn't come at lunch,” Starla said, surprising herself by speaking out loud.
Larkel swung the gate open and looked back at her, a strange expression on his face.
“I had important matters to deal with at the Order.”
“Of course,” Starla said, cheeks burning as she followed him into the shade of the tree.
“Those are called agleys,” Larkel said, noticing the direction of her gaze. “They make a fantastic wine.” The large, black, diamond shaped fruits hanging from the thin golden vines wrapping around the black-blue bark of the trees looked ripe for harvest.
The path they were walking on ended in a small clearing, lined with white-leaved trees, right on the edge of the little hill. Starla stopped and gazed around her. Off to her left was a quaint, glass spun, two-story house nestled between the thick deep-blue tree trunks. Directly ahead of her, the view was breathtaking.
