The Girl Who Called The Stars (The Starlight Duology Book 1)

by Heather Hildenbrand

  “Sounds good to me,” I said, planting my feet and folding my arms. Peter arched a brow at me, but I ignored him. I was way too anxious to sit, and I wasn’t in the mood to explain why either.

  “Peter has told me that you’ve lost your memory of your life before you came to Earth,” Eamon said.

  “I don’t know if I’d call it lost since I know who took it,” I said wryly, “But yes.”

  “Alina, your mother did that for your own good,” Peter began, but I waved him off, too impatient to get into that right now.

  “I know, I know,” I said. “Whatever. Continue.” I looked at Eamon. “Are you saying I knew you before?”

  “I was your mother’s personal guard,” Eamon said. “And by default, quite often when you were young, I was also yours.”

  “So you were there,” I said. “When Tharos invaded?”

  He nodded, but his gaze dropped to the floor and his furry shoulders slumped. “I was. But it wasn’t enough. Tharos… Your parents fought bravely, Alina. Everyone did. Saving you was the victory that came out of that battle. It’s why I’ve been searching for you ever since. It’s why our people—your people—have never given up hope that you’ll return someday.”

  I bit my lip because it all sounded so big, and the more they told me about this destiny that awaited on the other side of the stars, the less sure I was that I could live up to all their expectations. Not after tonight. I’d almost died when that Shadow hit me with its darkness and he’d been some sort of minion or soldier. What did they expect me to do against Tharos, their leader?

  “I appreciate that Eamon, and I want to thank you for saving my life tonight, but I don’t think I’m the person you were hoping to find here.”

  “You’re Alina, reigning empress of Zorovia, future leader of the Alliance. And your power has been foretold as the greatest your people have ever known.” Eamon spoke as if it were all obvious and silly for me to argue over.

  Everything he said only piled onto my own sense of failure and doubt. “Eamon…” I didn’t know what to say.

  “Alina, he’s right,” Peter said.

  I scoffed. “You didn’t see me out there tonight. When that Shadow pointed its magical little E.T. finger at me, I froze, and then I folded underneath the weight of the pain. I’m not the savior you’re looking for. I was total deadweight—almost literally.”

  “You have to go easy on yourself,” Peter said. “It’s not just your memories that are gone. I’ve seen it for a while now. Somehow, that wipe has affected your innate sense of your own power and capabilities. Stop doubting yourself. You are everything Eamon has said, but you have to believe it.”

  I didn’t want to argue this, and I appreciated Peter’s little pep talk, but none of this made me feel any better. Not after what had just happened. I’d been through this enough times to know what came next. “What’s going to happen now?” I asked quietly.

  Peter didn’t answer and my stomach turned heavy.

  “We’re leaving. Aren’t we?” I asked.

  “Alina, it was never your destiny to remain here,” Eamon said.

  “Is it my destiny to lead my people to their deaths?” I shot back. “Because if you put me in charge now, that’s exactly what will happen.”

  “What happened to you?”

  The words were an insult. An accusation.

  Xander’s voice startled me and I whirled. He stood in the doorway, his blue eyes flashing with ice and venom as he stared back at me. Accusation filled his tone, and I tried to read into it to understand why he was so upset.

  “What are you talking about?” I asked.

  “You’re defeated before you’ve begun,” he said and my eyes narrowed.

  “It’s called being realistic.”

  “We don’t need a realist. We need a warrior,” he said.

  “Like I said before, I’m not denying that. You’ve just got the wrong girl.”

  His eyes were sharp-edged blades piercing straight through the thin layer of bravado I clung to. “You’re not the girl you used to be, that’s for sure,” he said.

  “Well, I wouldn’t know,” I told him.

  Xander’s heated glare slipped to Peter. “Her mother wiped her memory before we left,” Peter explained. “She doesn’t remember you. She doesn’t remember anything.”

  Xander’s eyes widened and his gaze whipped back to mine. There was something wounded inside him now but I couldn’t stop the words as they tumbled out.

  “So why don’t you tell me, Xander,” I said. “What kind of girl was I?”

  Something in him shifted and his eyes narrowed. I could practically feel the insults he was prepared to hurl at me. Eamon cleared his throat and opened his mouth, but Xander cut him off. “You were fierce, and you were fiery and you were always sure of your victory.”

  “I was twelve when I left,” I said.

  “You knew who you were and what you were for from the moment you were born, Alina. I didn’t need to tell you and neither did Eamon nor anyone else. You knew it. Just like you knew how to wield the power you held. It’s why the entire system already understood you would lead the Alliance someday. That’s who you were then.” Xander shook his head, and the hurt reappeared, like a sharp-tipped dagger he threw with those blue eyes. “No. You were more than that. The last time I saw you, you were worthy of my promise.”

  Without waiting for a response, he turned on his heel and walked out. The door slammed shut behind him, echoing in the silence. His last words hung in the air as I turned slowly back to Peter and Eamon.

  My heart pounded irregularly. “What does he mean that I was worthy of his promise?” I asked.

  Eamon and Peter exchanged a glance.

  “What does he mean?” I repeated.

  My pulse roared in my ears because even before either one of them answered, I knew what they would say. It was like remembering a dream long forgotten. Or like already knowing the punch line to a bad joke.

  “Xander was your…” Peter trailed off, suddenly not willing to meet my eyes.

  Eamon, whose animal instincts probably alerted him to how close I was to losing my shit, spoke up. “Xander was your chosen, Alina.”

  “Chosen for what?” I asked.

  Eamon’s furry shoulder rose and fell in a wolfish shrug. “Forever.”

  Chapter Five

  When I’d managed to get a firm grip on reality again, I found myself in my bedroom. My thoughts were hazy, but I remembered storming out of the living room and marching up here when Eamon had started talking nonsense.

  Chosen.

  Forever.

  I huffed. What the actual hell did that even mean?

  I’d been twelve when we left. At that age, you could choose your clothes. Or your favorite food. Not a person. Definitely not a forever sort of person.

  I considered the possibility they were all lying. It wasn’t like I knew the difference, not with my memory gone and theirs intact. But Xander’s hostility wasn’t made up.

  Also, he had those haunting blue eyes.

  Stupid, stupid dreamboat eyes.

  Even now, I saw them behind my own lids every time I blinked. The image of them, currently full of rage and accusation, was practically burned into my psyche at this point. Right about now, I couldn’t imagine choosing him for anything—except maybe to vote him off the island.

  Or the planet.

  From all the way out at the barn, Nightingale shoved her way into my head. I waited while she dug out all the answers for herself and even replayed the whole thing in my head for her. When it was over, her reaction was instant disbelief—followed by a very distinct sense of happiness. A happiness that felt way too smug given my feelings on the situation.

  I don’t know what you’re so excited about, I grumbled. He’s not even my type.

  Nightingale snickered. She was looking forward to this.

  Traitor.

  From down below, three distinct voices floated up, and I realized Xander had returned
. I bit my lip then eased off my bed and out the door as quietly as possible while listening to their conversation.

  “She’ll come around,” Peter said—way more firmly than the words deserved.

  I swallowed a snort and crouched low at the top of the stairs.

  “Is there any way to return her memory?” Xander asked, and I sat up straighter at the concern in his voice. Where had that concern been earlier when he’d roasted me for things I couldn’t control?

  “Not as long as we’re on Earth,” Peter said.

  “There’s no magic here,” Eamon agreed.

  “Speaking of magic, how did you both even find us?” Peter asked. “The nearest portal is hundreds of miles away.”

  “We didn’t use a portal,” Eamon said. I stilled at that. If he didn’t use a portal, how had they—

  “We’ve activated the old magic,” Eamon added.

  “Goddess alight. How?” Peter asked in a hushed voice.

  “Neila performed a Calling Ceremony a few years ago,” Xander said.

  “So…” Peter prompted. “You came here using—”

  “One of the Ancients,” Eamon confirmed.

  I frowned in confusion. What the hell were the Ancients and why hadn’t Peter mentioned them before? This whole memory loss thing was really beginning to suck.

  “I can’t believe it,” Peter said. “The old magic has been dormant for years.”

  “And for good reason,” Eamon agreed in a voice that made me shudder.

  “But if we’re going to beat Tharos, we need to use everything available to us,” Xander said.

  Jealousy seared through me at his words. It wasn’t only what he’d said but the way he’d said it. Like he’d been busy fighting Tharos these past years and what had I been doing? Oh yeah, sitting on my ass on the most clueless and helpless planet in the entire universe. For the first time, my future as a leader felt like a possession being threatened. And I really wanted to march down there, kick him in the shins, and take it back.

  “You’re right about that,” Peter said. “Do you hear anything about what’s happening?”

  His question was vague, but I knew what he meant. And because I knew I wouldn’t get any more information if I went down there, I forced myself to sit and just listen.

  “Tharos remains in control of the UPA,” Eamon said quietly, and I recognized the tone. It was the same one Peter used when he spoke of his last day on Zorovia. Pain.

  The UPA—an acronym that stood for United Planetary Alliance—had been a huge conglomerate made up of multi-planetary governments according to Peter. An entire system of planets that operated as one force all with a common enemy: Tharos. And he’d wiped them out so easily. Taken over each planet one by one ending with my own. How in the universe did anyone expect to stop him now?

  “What about the rest of the Zorovians? Is there anyone left?” Peter asked.

  “Yes,” Eamon said and the ball of anxiety in my stomach loosened a fraction. I could hear Peter’s sigh of relief all the way up the stairs. “A small contingent of your people remains on Bardawulf. With Neila’s help, our cloaking shield remains strong which keeps our location from being detected. The rest were lost.”

  “How many are there?” Peter asked, deliberately ignoring the last part.

  “One hundred seventy was the number we left with. The number has grown to almost two hundred since then,” Eamon answered.

  Two hundred. My mind was spinning. There were still two hundred others just like me out there. I'd never believed that many Zorovians still existed—and all in one place.

  Hopefully some of them were nicer than Xander.

  “And Tharos’ army?” Peter asked.

  “Many still hunt her,” Eamon said, and I tensed. “But the army is spread over a host of conquered planets. Tharos uses them to keep his own presence strong. The destruction… It will not heal as long as the Shadows remain.”

  “Has anyone tried to stop them?” Peter asked.

  “Of course. Many settlements and kingdoms have risen up against them but none are successful.”

  “And the prophecy?” Peter asked.

  “It hasn’t changed,” Eamon confirmed.

  “Even with her living here and the memory loss?”

  Peter’s question startled me, and I sucked in a sharp breath as I realized he was talking about me. I was part of a prophecy? Why hadn’t he told me? How much was he keeping from me that I couldn’t remember?

  Again, I had to force myself to stay hidden instead of rushing in there screaming and demanding answers. Clearly, they weren’t going to tell me these things to my face.

  “Yes,” Eamon said, and I swallowed hard at the weight of belief he held in that single word.

  “Mihra’s been wrong before,” Xander cautioned, and I decided that if I did go down there, I was going to stomp on his foot for that one.

  “She was right about the Shadows,” Eamon snapped and Xander didn’t answer.

  I smiled.

  “Hmm,” was Peter's reply. He cleared his throat. “How are Neila and Dominik?” he asked, changing the subject.

  From there, I listened to Eamon update Peter on creatures I’d never heard of and then recount a decade’s worth of intergalactic politics and wars fought in systems I couldn’t pronounce.

  I sat perched on the top step until my eyelids drooped.

  I blinked furiously, trying to stay awake, but the adrenaline was gone. All that was left was the exhaustion that came from nearly dying at the hands of a black-blooded bounty hunter with seriously arthritic fingers and a horrible fashion sense. Those Shadow assholes really needed a wardrobe update and maybe a calcium supplement.

  After nearly dozing off twice more, I thought about heading to bed, but I didn’t want to miss anything else—especially more secrets—so I blinked again and then shifted in my seat to wake my muscles.

  Forcing my eyelids up, I tried tuning back in.

  “Xander is doing well. He trains the younger warriors, and then we test them together,” Eamon was saying.

  “You still hold the war games then?” Peter asked with a knowing sort of amusement.

  “Of course.” Eamon and Peter shared a laugh.

  “And your mother, Xander? How is she?” Peter asked.

  “She is well and her abilities are strong as ever. Stronger since the Calling Ceremony,” Xander said with clearly pride in his voice. “She is the one who told us where to find you.”

  A Calling Ceremony. Something about the name felt important. I made a mental note to find out what it was as soon as I could and kept listening—even as my eyelids grew heavier.

  At some point, I became vaguely aware strong arms coming around me and lifting me effortlessly off the floor. I tried prying my eyes open, but nothing would cooperate. A familiar scent washed over me as the door to my bedroom was kicked open. I told myself the pine and sea salt were all a product of my dream state—right along with those blue familiar eyes.

  It wasn’t until long after the house had gone silent that I realized those eyes weren’t a dream at all. They were real. And here. And if Eamon had been telling the truth, at some point in my past at least, they’d belonged to me.

  Forever.

  Chapter Six

  I woke to the sound of the front door banging closed and promptly buried my head underneath my pillow to drown it out. A second later, the door banged again, followed by dishes clanking together and chairs scraping along the floor. I sighed.

  At least it was all put to a scent soundtrack that included the sizzle of bacon.

  Peter’s morning routine usually included lots of noise. It was his version of an alarm clock. Personally, I never understood the point or the draw to being up with the sun, and since he did, he didn’t stay patient very long when I tried to sleep in. But today was extra loud, and I had a feeling all three of my housemates were in on this together.

  Grumbling about sleep being a basic right for all creatures, foreign and domestic, I thr
ew the covers back. The second my feet hit the carpet, a growly voice sounded outside my door.

  “Coffee’s ready, Alina,” Eamon called.

  I froze, mostly wondering how a creature with no opposable thumbs had managed to brew coffee at all.

  “Be right there,” I called back and jumped up.

  I showered quickly, threw on a pair of jeans and a tank top, and headed downstairs, promising myself to play it cooler today than I had last night. So what that Xander had been my chosen. I was older now and making totally different choices. Like the choice to pretend he didn’t get under my skin or to wonder if he tasted as good as he smelled. And especially the choice to never tell him how badly I wanted to know the answer to the second.

  I found Peter alone at the kitchen table bent over a notebook, a piece of buttered toast in his hand. He had his riding boots on and from the layer of dust and clay coating them, I knew he’d already been outside to feed the horses. If he was doing my chores for me that meant he had something else in mind.

  I wondered if that something involved our leaving the planet. I couldn’t imagine Peter letting us stay behind when Eamon and Xander returned to their own planet. But I wasn’t going to bring it up. Not after all the secrets I’d overheard last night.

  One thing was clear: Peter wasn’t telling me everything. And now, neither were Eamon and Xander. Those two I could handle, but Peter had been my one constant for five years. I’d trusted him implicitly with my safety and our future. To find out he was holding things back…

  I wasn’t sure how to start that conversation—or any others. For the first time, things felt awkward between us. Like a wall had gone up; a wall only I could see.

  Swallowing against the knot in my stomach, I forced my voice cheery and light. “Out riding already?” I asked, heading straight for the coffeepot.

  Before he could answer, I poured a cup and gulped it black. If I ever managed to restore my kingdom, the first royal decree would be to import a new crop: coffee beans.