Look to the Stars (The Orien Trilogy Book 1)

by Catherine Wilson

  It doesn’t take long for my fingers to find the rough twine, and I smile, imagining Aras’ reaction when he finds that I’ve left my quarters and escaped him via rope. Perhaps even the mighty should be caught off guard from time to time.

  Securing the rope tightly to the heavy bedpost in my room, I stretch it out, draping it over the side of the stone ledge. My nerves come alive as I carefully shimmy over the edge, using my feet as a guide against what’s left of the ledge. Once I’ve dropped another foot, I won’t have anything to brace myself upon, and it will all be up to my arm strength to keep me from sliding down in a crazed flourish, burning my poor hands along with it. All too quickly, my feet lose the security of the ledge, and I hang suspended in the air. My muscles pull and scream ugly things at me and my rotten ideas, but then clarity hits. I wrap my legs around the rope, finding purchase and strength. One steady hand at a time, I work myself down the rope until my feet mercifully find the ground. Once I hit, my arms give way, flopping to my sides like dead weights in the water. I heave a grateful sigh, and then another.

  Thank goodness, I haven’t lost my touch.

  Turning around to survey Papa’s grounds before me, a great sense of sadness fills my heart. In a day, I’ll leave this all behind. Can it really be that this was never mine to begin with?

  Before I can lose my courage, I sprint past the unmanned gates and head for the town’s main square, determined to leave any sour feelings behind. If anyone takes notice of the barreling woman running down the dirt-marked paths, they don’t say so, and for that, I’m thankful. It’s not as if they haven’t watched me run through these streets time and time again, but now, it all feels very different. Now it feels as though they’ve known my deepest, darkest secret, and they pity me for knowing the truth. I wish I could go back to being oblivious. It felt much nicer that way.

  As I near the familiar stand near the edge of the first corner street, my steps finally slow and the waking dust does too. I know he heard me coming, but he doesn’t turn as his hands continue to sort through today’s load of fruits. His white head of hair bobs about as he searches for duds amongst the best. I frown at his hunched shoulders. The new heat already taking a toll on his work. If I had ever wanted a grandfather, he would’ve nicely filled that role. I’m ashamed that I haven’t taken better care of him.

  “Sal,” I call, pretending he isn’t ignoring me.

  He turns his head ever so slightly before returning to his work. “Just a minute, my young assassin. I’ve something important to do.”

  Although I can’t see his face, I know he’s smiling. Of course he would make fun of my cloak and my disastrous ploy to stay unidentified. Even I knew it was impossible, but it was still worth a shot. There’s not much that can stay hidden in this land. Unless, of course, you’re me.

  Deciding not to bother him again with my words, I walk around and settle in behind the small booth’s counter, aiding Sal as he works. He doesn’t say anything, just lightly bumps my shoulder, letting me know he appreciates the help. We work like that, the two of us, until our fingers begin to ache with overuse, and all the fruits are placed in their rightful bins. Only then does he speak.

  “I can’t say I’m surprised to see you, dear. I had a feeling you would come. Although, as time passed by, I was worried you would leave me for that foreign land without so much as a goodbye.” He eyes me sadly, putting a warm hand upon my shoulder. “That’s what this is, isn’t it? Goodbye?”

  “With you, Sal,” I say, smiling slightly, “there is never truly a goodbye. You mean too much to me for that.”

  He laughs. “And here I thought you’d be as angry as a wild boar, crashing into my booth with a fury that only a life misled can bring.”

  My smile falters, and I look away before he can see the truth in my eyes. During those first few moments last night, under the blanket of deceitful stars, I had thought about it. I had thought about a lot of things. “You were never to blame,” I quickly say. “It still hurts, but I know you were just trying to protect me. Apparently, you all were.”

  “You’re right,” he says, “but I know that can’t make it any easier to hear.”

  I shrug, knowing that he is right, but not feeling the need to confirm it. “I do have a few questions to ask though, if you’re willing.”

  He passes me a small jug of water and motions for me to sit on one of the two wooden stools that he has pulled behind the counter. I do as he suggests, sighing as the cool liquid cradles my scratchy throat.

  “Has Papa always been the leader of Ashen?” I ask, dreading the answer to this question as much as any I’ve had to ask within the last few days.

  “Yes.” His answer is simple. “He has.”

  I don’t try to hide my confusion or my disappointment in his answer. “Then how did he ever meet the queen of Orien? And don’t tell me that they just happened to meet and exchange a child during a random walk in the woods.”

  His brows wrinkle, and he gives me a knowing stare. “I would never say the sort, Brave, but you asked me if he had always been our leader, and the answer is simply yes. Now, if you had asked me how he and the rest of us came to be at a place like Ashen, well then, my answer would have been different. Much, much different.”

  Curiosity claws at my chest, and I lean forward, begging him to continue. “Well then, by all means, how did you all end up here?”

  “We were sent here, child. Cast away to live on our own. Punished by our own king. Punished by your father.”

  I bristle at his choice of words, knowing good and well that when he says father, he means Knox. “And this punishment? It had something to do with me?”

  “No, for once, it had nothing to do with you. Actually, if the king could do it over again, I’m sure he would choose differently, as his banishment eventually cost him his first true heir.”

  “Then why the banishment? What could you have possibly done?”

  He smiles ruefully before chasing it away with a drink. “Everything. We did everything. You see, there were some in Orien who grew tired of Knox’s ways, your mother and Emory included. They worked together, the pair, to build an alliance of sorts. One to overthrow the current power. The rest of us, of course, fell right in with them.”

  “So, they knew each other well, Papa and Ingrid? They met after she became queen?”

  “They were very close, from what little I know. Your papa never talked about her much, but whatever bond they shared, I know they both wished it could have been formed before she was ever forced into being crowned queen.”

  “Forced?”

  “Yes, my child. Things in Orien are not based on royalty alone, but something much deeper, darker.” He pauses to eye me. “Something I’m sure you’re to discover.”

  I wave his words away with impatience, caring nothing of Orien’s history and everything of Papa’s. “But you never explained what happened. Why would Knox send you and Papa away? Did he find out about the alliance?”

  Sal’s laugh is sad. “Oh yes, in a big way, but I think what bothered him the most was the close bond that Emory and your mother always shared. It was unbreakable, that bond, and Knox set out to tear it in two. He gave Emory and those who followed him two choices. We could stay in Orien and die, or we could leave, cast away in isolation, never to return to the city again. Free from Knox’s cruel hand, but never free from his watchful eye. We, of course, chose life.”

  His words form invisible strings in my mind, matching one understanding to another. Ashen’s isolation. The people’s unwillingness to leave. The confidence in our safety. The lack of security within our borders. Papa knew what he was doing all along. He was leading us in our punishment. He was keeping us alive. On a tight leash, but alive nonetheless. We were all doing our part. Staying within our borders, while laying low and meek.

  “And if you were to leave?” I suddenly ask.

  “Death, or something very much like it.” His words are sure and steady, causing a sharp pain to form within my h
eart. Without a doubt, I know he speaks the horrible truth.

  “And that’s why they won’t risk going after Papa? They know that he’s already forfeited his life, so why risk their own?”

  “Maybe,” he says. “But I think that what they’re most afraid of is how it will change them.”

  I bark back a cruel laugh. “But hasn’t it already changed them? Going on without their leader. Going on without the one man who has always cared for them the most?”

  “You’re right, but I don’t think that’s the kind of change they are most afraid of.”

  My eyes narrow and sharp words form on the tip of my tongue. “Surely—”

  “There you are!” Crisp spouts, landing his heavy hands on the table before him. “I thought Darcy was going to ring Aras’ neck when she thought he’d sent you off early.” He pauses to flash a wry smile, and my breath catches. It’s the sweetest sight I’ve seen on him in ages. “Although, I would be lying if I said it wasn’t fun to watch him squirm.”

  His playful words and pure smile send a stutter through my angry thoughts, and instead of questioning Sal as I had planned to do, I take a deep breath. And then another.

  Sal senses my hesitation. “You should be heading back, Brave.” He stands to clasp me on the shoulder. “I’m glad you stopped by, but I can’t say that I’m glad to see you leaving.”

  I reach for his hand with my own, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “It’s not as if I’ll be gone forever, Sal. You know that. I’ll see you soon.”

  He surprises me then, pulling me from the stool and into a tight hug. “The first two years here were hard, child. Many of us wrestled with living and wished for death, but then one day, something changed us, all of us. That something was you. You gave us something to live for, Brave. You gave us our heart back. Our purpose. Now, go. Go live for us. Go live for you. We’ll be waiting for your call.”

  His valiant words confuse me, creating twisting turns throughout my already-daunting path. For there’s something powerful… not in what he said, but what he didn’t.

  Before I can speak another word, I feel the gentle tug of Crisp’s hand on my tunic’s tail, and I turn from Sal, silently vowing that one day, I will turn back.

  Thirteen

  Silence fills the warming air around us, but like most things with Crisp, there’s no awkwardness in it. It’s as if the whole world is turning, but here together, we are not. It’s nice that way. Soothing. It makes me wish I could spend even more time with him before I’m gone, although I know he’d be itching to leave my side before long. He’s always been the older one, ready to go off on adventures while Sara and I had to stay behind. Stay protected. The thought of him leaving sends a twinge of hurt through my belly. It was on those adventures that he was meeting with Aras.

  And as if that very thought had hands that could reach out and claw their way to my neck, the air around us does become uncomfortable. I shuffle my steps, hoping this act alone could hide my sudden change of heart, but I know it only pushes it through to the surface even more.

  You hurt me, and I’m only just remembering.

  If only something could be done about my meddling mind, maybe all would be well in my life. Maybe I could feel less betrayed, and a little more, well, not.

  Crisp looks over his shoulder as we near the wooden gates, lips pursed and cool eyes narrowed. “You shouldn’t have used the rope.”

  His words catch me completely off guard, and I stumble as the tip of my boot catches on the rising path. Surely, he can’t be serious. I glance back at him, eyes ever so direct and steely. Apparently, he is. I puff out my chest, imagining if I were an animal, my fur would rise so high that it would cover him in his place. Crisp can call me out on a lot of things, but the rope isn’t one of them. Rather than dignifying him with a response, I send him a snide smile before taking off at a dead sprint, the rope still dangling within sight.

  I hear it the moment Crisp realizes that this isn’t a joke, and I’ve actually defied him, because his boots dig in against the dirt, pounding from behind. I smile against the wind. He may be fast, but I’ve always been faster.

  The rope finds my fingers sooner than I could have hoped, and before he can stop me, I’m pulling up, up, and up. Climbing into the sky like a bird without wings. The rope tugs taut underneath me, but I don’t give it so much as a notice as my muscles burn and my boots fight to find purchase against the rope. One more push. And then another. And another. That’s all it takes before I’m able to grab the top of the ledge with one hand, and then both, as I pull and kick my legs over the rail. My legs buckle, and my knees find the hard balcony floor. My callused hands sprawl before me in a valiant effort to keep me upright.

  I’m beyond tired, but it was worth every second.

  The rope beside me turns taut once more as Crisp’s weight pulls against it in his climb to the top. I don’t even bother to look over. In fact, I don’t even bother to move at all. Instead, I listen to Crisp’s quiet puffs and soak in the satisfaction of my win. Which is exactly what it is, even though I’m now lying half dead on a stone floor.

  “Are you going to be alright, or should I call after Darcy? I’m sure she’ll be more than pleased to find you nearly perished at the hands of a rope.”

  At first, I lay completely still with my cheek pressed against the rough floor, letting the words find their way into my pulsing mind. It’s not until Crisp’s feet pound the stone, and my head bounces with a lurch, that I open my eyes and view my newest guest. My unwelcome guest.

  Aras lounges comfortably across my bed, his back pressed up against my many pillows, which I shamelessly use every night as my only luxury. I don’t know what makes me more upset. The fact that he’s lying on them, or the fact that he’s angled in such a way that he must know some secret as how to correctly use up every ounce of their heavenly comfort and then some. He looks as if the pillows were made for him, and that thought alone boils my blood.

  Without so much as a glance at Crisp, whom I’m sure is just as pleased as I am, I bound through the open balcony doors, somehow forgetting that I’m slap out of breath. “What do you think you’re doing?” I ask, placing a huffy hand on my waist.

  He gives me a lazy grin before his eyes slide to Crisp, and then it drops from his face. “Why, waiting on the princess, of course. At least one of us needs to rest in preparation for our journey, and since I’m probably going to be doing most of the work, I figured it should be me. After all,” he says, nudging his chin toward Crisp, “it looks like there are enough puppies chasing you around.”

  At his words, Crisp lets out a low growl, and I feel the need to step in before someone gets bit. “Aras,” I shout, begging him to look back in my direction and away from the thundering storm cloud once known as Crisp. “There are plenty of places you could have waited for me, but my personal chambers isn’t one of them.”

  And atop my bed isn’t one either, I think with a glare.

  Aras eyes me with that perfect, practiced, and cruel smirk of his as he rises from the bed. A dangerous cat stalking his prey. For once, I’m stunned senseless. Afraid that he might very well walk right into me. He doesn’t, thankfully, but my relief is short lived as he leans in close. Taking the time to smile at Crisp, he turns to me, his lips warm against my ear.

  “You shouldn’t lie, Bravest. You’re not very good at it.”

  Unabashed horror floods my cheeks, and Crisp lets out a dangerous laugh, as if he’s heard every one of Aras’ bold words. Oh, I am a good liar, I can promise that, but I’m not lying right now. Aras has absolutely no place in my chambers. Not now, not ever. Surely, he knows it. They both know it.

  Choosing to let my overt scowl serve as my only response, I push away on my heel, relishing in the feel of renewed personal space as it floods my senses. The rope left dangling from my balcony calls to me, offering sweet escape into the lands below. I seriously consider its offer before remembering that the brutes behind me probably have nothing better to do than to chas
e me down. Again. I’m much too tired for that.

  Silently, and without a look back in their direction, I begin to pull and coil the rope back into its hiding spot within the empty pot. Thankfully, the boys take my actions exactly as they are intended and leave me be. I’ve nothing to hear but the sound of wind rustling through the trees, their gentle creaks like a smooth harmony to a song I can’t recall, but that I remember all the same. I’d be whisked away into complete heaven, if it weren’t for the frantic whispering that also sounds through the open balcony doors.

  “Why are you looking at me like that? You knew this day would come.”

  A huff. “No, I didn’t know this day would come, although I’m sure you always hoped it would. I just always hoped it wouldn’t.”

  “So that you could keep her hidden here forever? A little pet in a slowly tightening net? Oh, yes. That idea sounds so much better. If only Knox were the complete fool that you took him for. Then all of our days would turn out for the better.”

  Silence. And then Aras speaks again. “You know that I’ll protect her. I’ll give her every last drop of me. All of it. It’s what I’ve been called to do. I’ll fight for Ingrid, and I’ll win for Emory. You understand this. You have to.”

  His words cause a deep wrinkle in my brow, and I pause, the rope burning as it tightens against the grip of my palm. Aras can’t mean what he says. Taking every last drop of him? I’ve never even asked for his help. I’ve never even wanted it. All I’ve ever done is comply with his ever-so-bossy directions. I’m inches away from marching in and demanding answers when Crisp speaks again.

  “I know that you’ll take care of her. That isn’t what I’m afraid of.”

  “Crisp—”

  Before he can explain himself, a heavy knock pounds through the door. I rush from the balcony, my shoulder banging against Aras as I fight my way through. I’m hoping for Sara, though the heavy knock alone signals who it is. At this point, I’m surprised she didn’t just push the door down. I can barely get the door properly open before her strong hands reach out, grabbing me in a hold that threatens to take my very breath.