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

by Heather Hildenbrand

  I had a lot to choose from, although it really wasn’t a choice, because it was all of them. And none of them were a good enough excuse to fall apart. I needed rest, and I needed it now. Because somewhere in the middle of sorting out my own life, my childhood had ended and adulthood had descended like a ton of bricks dropped over my head.

  But despite it all, I had felt every word of that speech I’d made earlier. It was time to step up as the empress I had been waiting to become. It was time to be a leader. A warrior. A princess.

  All I knew was that it would have been a hell of a lot easier if these people had access to coffee.

  Chapter Thirteen

  My stomach grumbled loudly, offering no chance at more sleep. I rolled over and tried to count backward how long it had been since I’d eaten. I remembered lunch—or was it breakfast?—before leaving Arizona. And nothing since.

  Intent on remedying that, I bent over and scooped up my clothes from yesterday. Then I paused and took a tentative sniff. My nose wrinkled, and I dropped the shirt back to the floor. I should have asked someone about laundry services. No way was I making my first impression in day-old dirt.

  Curious, I crossed to the dresser and pulled open the first drawer. Inside, I found a pair of pants and shirt mysteriously close to my size. The fabric was different. More breathable. And it stretched so that even though it was a bit small, it worked.

  Thank the Goddess.

  In fact, the way it molded to me was perfect. Way more comfortable than what I’d worn on Earth. I did a quick lunge and then stretched, noting the way the fabric moved and breathed right along with my movement. I’d have to ask Neila if they wanted a trade for my old things because no way did I want to wear those again when I had this.

  The house was quiet as I made my way down the hall. Peter’s bedroom was empty when I passed, the bed already remade. A sign he was definitely feeling better.

  I did owe Mihra thanks for that—crazy as she’d been.

  The first thing I noticed in the tiny kitchen was a bowl of apples on the counter. Not wanting to waste time looking further, and not sure I would find anything else so familiar, I grabbed two. I did a quick check of the cabinets, more disappointed than surprised when I saw that, indeed, there was no coffee or anything remotely resembling it stocking the pantry shelves.

  I stopped to peer out the small window over the kitchen sink. It offered a clear view into the backyard where there was no sign of Peter or the horses. I could only assume he’d already gone to find them a more suitable place to stay.

  Doubling back, I almost missed the note on the counter and paused to read Peter’s handwritten words. The horses are safe in the woods beyond our house. I would ask you to be careful, but we’ve had enough lectures for one lifetime. This is your home. These are your people. Go meet them. I’ll find you later. ~Peter

  P.S. The salve is for your arm, courtesy of Mihra.

  I read it four times just to be sure and even then I couldn’t believe it. Peter had finally stopped worrying and hiding. More than that, he was telling me to do the same. I couldn’t quite believe it.

  I also wasn’t going to stand around wasting it.

  Doubling back, I stayed long enough to change the bandage on my arm, applying the salve Peter had pointed out. There was a bottle of some herbal concoction alongside it and the bandages, but it wasn’t labeled and smelled like something I might not walk away from. Until I was instructed differently, I left it alone. With new gauze in place, and an apple in each hand, I took a deep breath and headed out the front door in search of my four-legged family.

  The sun hadn’t yet risen high, and the row of stone houses at my back offered more shade than there’d been when I’d arrived. I stopped just beyond the little porch for a moment, getting my bearings and trying to commit my house’s location to memory.

  Getting lost was not on the agenda.

  When I was almost sure I could find my way back, I stepped off the porch and turned right—the same way I’d seen Peter wandering off with Nightingale and Archer last night.

  The street was mostly empty, but the few people out stopped to watch me as I walked by. A couple of them smiled, but no one approached. I adjusted the translator I’d slipped inside my ear when I’d woken and made a mental note to ask Peter for help reading the signage as soon as possible. It was going to take time for people to warm up, apparently. In the meantime, I needed to navigate for myself.

  Up ahead was the main road Neila had marched us down the day before. I had no idea where I was going from there, and chances of finding my way back here if I went too far were probably slim, but I wasn’t going to sit around all day inside the house either.

  This was the life I’d always wanted. This was freedom. Nervous or not, I wasn’t going to waste it.

  In the back of my mind, I wondered where Xander was and whether having me here was really what he’d always wanted. Or if maybe he’d decided the memory of me was better than the real thing.

  He hadn’t come by after the meeting last night. Or if he had, I’d slept through it. Something told me he had his reasons for staying away, I just wish I knew what they were. Distracted by that thought, I turned to head around the corner, and collided with someone. My balance swayed. I felt hands grab my shoulders, helping me stay upright.

  “Oh, sorry,” I mumbled, stepping back quickly.

  “No, it’s my fault, are you okay?” the voice responded smoothly, his words translating almost instantly through the tiny device I wore.

  “I think so,” I said, looking up at the speaker and then blinking at the sight. He was unexpectedly attractive in a pretty boy sort of way—very, very pretty. And from the smug smile he wore, he knew it too.

  “I’m Kent,” he said in perfect English now, his smile revealing a set of straight white teeth.

  His blond hair was long-ish, hanging over his ears and looking a bit windblown but still somehow deliberate. His eyes were a deep violet—an unnatural shade for any human but on him, it seemed to fit somehow—and watching mine with interest. I had a crazy thought that he’d run into me on purpose and then brushed it away.

  My first five minutes of freedom and I was already coming up with reasons to worry. It was sad, really.

  “I’m Alina,” I said, smiling tentatively as I took another step back.

  “I know.” He grinned. “I mean, you’re sort of notorious here if you haven’t noticed.”

  I laughed, but it ended quickly as I realized how close Kent stood. The smile he gave me, the teasing. . . Goddess, was he flirting with me? Was I flirting with him?

  And so what if I was?

  “You’re prettier than the rumors,” Kent added. Before I could respond, he gave me a once-over, not even bothering to hide his appreciation when his eyes lingered on my curves. I resisted the urge to cross my arms, but suddenly, any urge to flirt was gone. “And you must be a hell of a fighter considering the shape you’re in. Peter didn’t let you slide on training, did he?”

  “Um.” How in the hell did I answer that without sounding full of myself? “No, I trained every day rain or shine.”

  His brows rose. “Speaking of the shine, how bright is it?” His voice lowered to a hush as he added, “Can you wipe out armies of darkness with one bolt like our fearless leader?”

  “Your…? Um.” I frowned. “I don’t do bolts,” I said, trying to keep up.

  Fearless leader? Did he mean Xander?

  “Riiiight.” His expression went from unconvinced to unimpressed. “So his ability is one of a kind then. I wonder what that means for your ascension to power,” he said, almost talking to himself.

  “I have no idea,” I told him, more confused than pissed—but not by much. This conversation had quickly taken a turn, and I had no interest in continuing it further. “It was nice chatting, but I have to go.”

  I sidestepped, trying to move around him, but Kent slid over and blocked my path. “Wait. Can I help you get somewhere?”

  “Um.”
I bit back a sigh and told myself to be polite. “I was looking for my horse, Nightingale?”

  “A horse?” He pronounced the word as if he’d never heard of it. “Oh. You mean the dark jesup you rode in on yesterday?”

  “That’s the one,” I said.

  “Sure, I saw her in the forest earlier. I can show you if you want.”

  “That would be—”

  “Not interested.”

  I looked over in surprise at Xander. Not just his sudden appearance—where had he snuck up from anyway?—but the heated glare he gave Kent.

  And the way Kent glared right back.

  In fact, as Xander stepped up beside me, Kent’s easygoing surfer smile vanished. In its place was a venom I would never have thought him capable.

  “She can decide for herself, boss,” Kent drawled.

  “She can, and I have no doubt that she will, but she doesn’t know your game yet,” Xander replied. “You’re cheating.”

  “You can’t cheat if there aren’t any rules,” Kent shot back. His gaze swung to me. “This asshole is going to tell you all sorts of things about me.” He leaned in so close I had to resist the urge to jerk away. “All of them are true,” he whispered and then winked, flashing a full-wattage smile.

  My mouth opened, but no sound came out.

  When I failed to respond, Kent laughed and straightened, clearly enjoying the sudden personality switch he was displaying. “This bitch is harmless anyway,” he said, waving a hand in my direction as a complete dismissal. “What am I even worried about?”

  My body flushed with the heat of my temper as his words registered. “What did you just call me?”

  But Kent was already walking away, whistling, in fact.

  I took a step toward him, but Xander’s arm shot out, holding me in place. “He’s baiting you,” Xander said quietly, his violent expression still fixed on Kent’s back.

  “Well, it’s working,” I snarled.

  Kent disappeared around the corner, and I rounded on Xander. “What the hell was that, anyway? One second, he was the nicest neighbor ever and the next he was cussing me out—and we’re just going to let him walk away?”

  “Kent and his family have very strong political opinions,” Xander said in a tight voice. His arm fell away from where it had kept me from tearing after Kent. Now, he held both hands fisted at his sides. At my expression, he added, “None of those opinions include allowing your family to take the throne ever again.”

  “Oh.” One by one, all of Kent’s questions—and the friendly façade he’d used to ask them—made sense. It didn’t make me less angry, but the urge to run him down and bash his head in was waning. Head-bashing would get me nowhere, especially if this was about politics. Years’ worth of public education on Earth had taught me enough to know that. Instead, I looked at Xander and raised my brows. “Does that include friends of my family?”

  Xander’s gaze snapped to mine, his blue eyes dark with uncertainty as he scanned my face. When he spoke, his tone was unsure. Off balance. “He doesn’t like me either if that’s what you’re asking.”

  “Actually, I’m asking if you’re going to explain how you came to be the leader of these people in my absence. And I’m asking if you were ever going to tell me about it.”

  Xander swallowed hard.

  I crossed my arms over my chest. “Well?”

  But his attention had shifted to the main road behind me. I spun to see what had distracted him, but he stopped me. “Don’t.” He opened his mouth, shut it again, then grabbed my arm and began dragging me toward the trees.

  “Don’t what? What are you doing?” I asked, snatching my arm away and pretending my skin didn’t tingle everywhere he’d just touched me.

  “You’re right. I owe you answers to a lot of things,” he said quietly. “But I don’t think we should talk here. You wanted to find Nightingale. I know where she is. Let’s walk and talk.”

  “Fine,” I said, pretending his tone had actually left room for me to disagree and fell into step beside him. “I’m walking, so talk,” I snapped.

  But Xander shook his head, his voice dropping low as we passed two women on the street. “Wait until we’re clear,” he said quietly.

  I sighed and fell silent.

  It dawned on me that I could just call to Nightingale in my mind and find her or have her come get me, but then I wouldn’t have my answers so I opted not to point that out and simply waited.

  Xander stayed close as we walked. I told myself it was to make me feel comfortable and then because the path narrowed as we stepped off the main road and onto the trail that led into the woods.

  Regardless of the reason, every time his arm brushed mine, my pulse raced at the contact.

  We passed into the trees. Xander kept walking, so I kept pace.

  Still, he said nothing.

  I waited one more beat, noting that we’d made it well out of earshot of everyone else by now. When Xander still didn’t offer a single answer, I stopped, grabbing his wrist to halt him too. “Look, I think I deserve some explanation about what your issue is with me, and why you didn’t tell me that you’d stolen my throne while I was away. Maybe it’s the portal travel and maybe it’s the lack of coffee, but my patience is running seriously thin so if you don’t start explaining now, I think it would be best if you just leave me alone and let me find Nightingale on my own.”

  His eyes flashed and his expression twisted sharply enough that I dropped my hand. “I didn’t steal your throne.”

  “Then how is it you’re in charge?” I demanded.

  He took a deep breath, his broad shoulders rising and falling again as he blew it out. “See these?” He reached up and yanked his collar down to offer a view of his right shoulder blade. His skin was covered in short black lines that curved at the bottom. Some sort of symbol tattooed over and over again until they formed a geometric patchwork.

  “What do they mean?” I had no idea how they related to my demand for answers, but they seemed important somehow.

  “They’re reminders.” He smoothed his shirt back out and looked down at me again, this time with a haunted stare. “Each one represents a Shadow I’ve killed. A life I’ve taken. And yes, they were monsters who deserved it, but you don’t deal in death and escape the feel of it afterward.”

  “That’s a lot of dead Shadows,” I said quietly. His words had sobered me because I couldn’t imagine all the death and how he dealt with it. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw the black blood oozing from that Shadow’s missing throat where Eamon had ripped it out.

  Seeing it once was plenty.

  “My father was the general of the Zorovian forces before the invasion. I guess I got my combat gifts from him,” Xander said.

  “Is he…?”

  I couldn’t make myself finish the question, but Xander shook his head in answer. “He died in the battle.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “It was a long time ago.” He cleared his throat. “I was promoted to head of the combat training program three years ago. About six months after that, the team leader for recon and forward recovery was killed in a skirmish three systems away. The council voted on who would fill the empty position and gave me his job. After that, we began bringing home our team alive more often than not. And we even managed to recover several of our people who had been taken prisoner at various outposts Tharos had invaded.”

  I blinked but didn’t interrupt. All these years, Xander had been fighting my war.

  “The people here were grateful. There hadn’t been many victories before. The council noticed the way people had responded. It gave them hope when there had been none left.” He paused and then added, “About a year ago, the council started talking about electing me emperor.”

  A beat of silence passed. If he was waiting for my approval, he was going to be very disappointed.

  But I realized he hadn’t needed a response as much as he wanted to be sure I was really listening, because a second later, he added, �
�I told them no.”

  I let out the breath I’d been holding since his story began.

  And not just for the relief that Xander hadn’t accepted their offer to rule. Honestly, if he had, I would have understood their choice. Xander’s tattoos had spoken volumes. Nothing about my training with Peter had prepared me for the reality of the picture Xander’s words had painted. It was clear to me now, I was one of them in name only. These people had lived a life of war that I couldn’t imagine, let alone remember.

  “Yesterday, at the council meeting, the way you spoke… They recognize you as their leader,” I said, still not quite sure how this all fit together.

  He nodded slowly, gaze locked on mine. For the first time since I’d met him, it felt like he actually wanted me to read all the thoughts he kept locked away underneath his stare. “I won’t lie to you. I’ve played into their expectations. I don’t want to be an emperor, but I do want to win this war. Right now, we need a general. That’s what I am—I don’t care what else they call it. So, I don’t argue with whatever authority they offer, and I use their attention and respect to further our strategy and to obtain their blessing to train more soldiers.”

  “Is that enough?” I asked.

  “What do you mean?”

  “To win the war. To defeat Tharos. Will the soldiers and your training strategy be enough?”

  “Not even close.”

  I watched the way he never faltered as he said it. He was beaten before he’d begun and he didn’t care. He wasn’t giving up. That was courage. It was also a recipe for disaster considering the council was following him so blindly. I wasn’t sure which pissed me off more: his keeping the truth from me or his manipulation of the council, even if they were both justified in the grand scheme of things.

  I bit back my temper and said simply, “You should have told me. Before we stepped foot on this planet, you should have explained.”

  “I know,” he said, shifting away guiltily. “I wanted to, but then the Shadows attacked again and there was no time.”

  Wanted to.

  He hadn’t said he was going to.