Look to the Stars (The Orien Trilogy Book 1)

by Catherine Wilson

  His eyes widen, and for the first time in what feels like much too long, he meets my gaze. “Oh? And which incident are you referring to exactly? The one where you forced me to watch you get into a dangerous discussion with another man, or the one where you rudely pushed me away when I tried to help?”

  “Both.” I shrug, shamelessly willing to admit anything to win him back. “It’s not that I didn’t appreciate your help, because I did. I just needed Reeve to trust me. Distancing myself from you at that moment was the only thing I could do. I was just trying to make the best decision for both of us.”

  He watches me with interest, chewing on his pulled lip. “It would help if you’d give me a heads-up next time.”

  “It would help if you’d trust me enough to acknowledge my presence next time,” I say, throwing my hand in the air with a wave of frustration. “You didn’t have to ignore me all afternoon.”

  He looks down to pick at the ground with a broken stick, a laugh sneaking its way out under his breath. “I wasn’t ignoring you, Bravest. I was trying to divert attention. In case you haven’t noticed, you are quite the vision. It’s not often someone like you comes waltzing into Reeve’s camp. I was just trying to keep him occupied, not hurt your feelings.”

  His words send a rush of heat to my face, and I look away, wishing to find anything that I, too, can poke in the dirt. Never once had I imagined that Aras might be diverting unwanted attention. I had only assumed he didn’t trust me enough to speak. The realization causes a funny hum to buzz within my tired brain, and with it, another question forms.

  “I can imagine any woman would cause such a stir, Aras. Although now that you mentioned it, why is it that I’ve yet to see any women running with The Lost?”

  The picture he was tracing in the dirt stops midway, and he tosses the broken stick into the fire, a rise of smoke puffing with its entrance. “Come on,” he says, holding out his hand. “I’ll tell you once we’ve settled in.”

  The offer surprises me, and slowly, I reach out to take his hand. He pulls me across the way, only stopping to grab our packs. Once Aras shows me how to unlatch the flaps, I make quick work of assembling our makeshift tent. The flaps do create a cocoon of sorts, and they make me feel as if I am somewhat shielded from the outside. From Reeve.

  It’s not long before the soft black of night encompasses us, and the warm enclosure of the tarps begins to carefully pull on hidden strings of sleep. I lean my head against my pack and kick my feet, testing to make sure I won’t accidentally damage Aras in my rest. Thankfully, my kicks come up empty, and my body relaxes, content to have Aras lying sideways at the entrance, closest to Reeve. The arrangement reminds me of our night in the treehouse, when there was little room, but space all the same.

  “Tell me about the women, Aras,” I say, closing my eyes and fighting off sleep.

  He stalls, and even in the dark, I know he’s chewing his lip again. “It’s not that women don’t rebel, Bravest, because Ashen is proof enough that they do. It’s that The Lost is a status reserved for whom the king chooses. If you wrong him well enough, but he doesn’t feel the need to burn you to ash, then he sends you here. A lucky sentence, really, though his magic binds them to these woods. The women who are sent here are just a little slyer about their presence.”

  I pop up at his words, my single cover twisting within my boots. “What do you mean, sly?” I demand. I haven’t seen the first woman since I’ve been here, so as far as I’m concerned, they’re completely nonexistent.

  “What I mean is that they keep a low profile and stick together. If they’re in the area, you aren’t likely to know it. Not even Reeve can keep tabs on them, and honestly, I think a part of him is afraid to. The women here all have ties to Ingrid, and there’s not a soul in this wood who would want to go against her wishes.”

  Aras’ words empower me just as much as they unsettle. It’s amazing that there are strong, sneaky women living in these wild woods, banded together out of their own savage luck. A slow longing fills my thoughts, and suddenly, I wish I could meet them. That I could become a part of a group who knows my mother and would bravely follow her will, even if it led to exile.

  “Ingrid tries to help them,” Aras continues, painfully unaware of my wandering mind, “but sometimes, they are beyond even her reach. It’s why I needed you to understand what you’re walking back into, Bravest. Orien isn’t a happy land. It is a place built on fear, and it holds her people’s lives in a delicate balance. There aren’t many willing to change the tide, and most women have a family to account for. What Emory accomplished in his time was unheard of. It was the biggest uprising in our history. The Lost, more importantly Reeve, hope to accomplish the same one day, but they need more manpower to do it.” He pauses then, reaching out to find my hand in the dark. “What they truly need is you, but they just don’t know it yet, and I’m not willing to let them in on our secret.”

  “And I’m not either, not until I can understand this for myself. Not until I can talk with Papa,” I say, not even hiding the way my voice breaks when I say his name. “He’s always known the right thing to do. He’s always helped me choose the brightest path. I can’t do anything without his approval. I won’t.”

  “And I’d never ask you to,” he soothes, gently squeezing my fingers with his own.

  “Besides,” I moan, “we’re concerned over nothing at the moment. I don’t even have magic, and if we’re lucky, I never will. I may not be able to do anything.”

  And that’s what I’ve been secretly hoping since the moment Aras shared the cheery news—that I’m magic-less. A true dud, bound to disappoint one father, but not my real one. Not the one who counts. My papa. As strange as it sounds, I can’t wait for Aras to come back with his tricks, only to watch me fail over and over again. I can’t help but think that it would be for the best. And for the easiest.

  “You’re wrong, Bravest. The firstborn of the Orien line always inherits his parents’ magic. All of it. You just happen to be the firstborn female of our time. It makes you special, and even more so, unpredictable. It’s why Knox can’t get his hands on you soon enough. He wants to know what you can do, and then, well, then we’ll see.”

  The firstborn female of our time? Oh Ashen, he makes me sound like some sort of deranged prophecy. The hidden child come back to avenge her city. Perhaps this is why Darcy forced me to listen to hours on end of the drama within her books. If only I could hug her now and take back all of my previous foot-stompings.

  “Aras…” I sigh, finally breaking his hold and falling back onto my blanket in a heap. “You have the tendency to make life much more complicated than it should be.”

  “I know, Bravest, and I won’t pretend I’m not sorry for it. It’s hard to carry secrets, but it’s even harder to be the one to let them out.”

  His words leave me with a hollowed pain—a burning sorrow for this boy who spent his life guarding my family’s secrets and who now has to be the one to drag me kicking and screaming back through their damaging wake.

  “I’m the one who should be sorry,” I whisper.

  He grunts, reaching out to playfully pop me on the leg. “You don’t have a thing in this world to be sorry for, except if you don’t shut your trap and let us get some sleep. Then I’ll bask in your apologies all you please.”

  At his words, I twist onto my stomach and plop my face on my arm, hoping to smother the racing thoughts that clog my mind. If sleep is what he wants, I’ll give it to him. I’ll drift away as if I’m not even here, and hopefully, I’ll come back with some sense of peace. Just as I’m about to answer the call of the summoning dark, his voice breaks through the quiet.

  “Why won’t you let him call you Bravest?”

  It may be because I’m half asleep, but his words startle me, and I struggle to come up with anything that makes sense. Sighing, I settle for the truth, though the burning in my belly tells me I may regret it later. “Because he doesn’t deserve it, and it will only ever sound right co
ming from you.”

  For a moment, all is quiet, and a flurry of doubt clouds my thoughts. Perhaps I’ve said the wrong thing. Perhaps I’ve ruined everything. I’m tempted to thrash my boots about to check and see if Aras still breathes below, when his words finally splinter the silence.

  “Sleep well, my Bravest,” he says, and although my eyes are closed, I imagine that his olive ears are tipped pink.

  A shy smile etches my face, and warmth floods my heart. “You, too, Aras. You, too.”

  Twenty-Five

  I awake to a whisper so sharp that I can’t believe it didn’t shake the entire woods. Blinking my eyes, I will myself to think. To end the sound that haunts my ears. I lean up on shaky arms to find a sleeping Aras still at my feet. He lies on his back with his head lolled to the side, lips slightly parted as he remains blissfully unaware of the nightmare that pulses through the night. My worry gets the best of me, and I attempt to wake him with a gentle shake, but just as I reach out, the whispers not only get louder, but they also get clearer.

  Instantly, I’m on my feet, jumping over Aras as I burst out of the front flap into the empty camp before me. Night still reigns in this cursed place, and even Reeve’s door stands firmly shut across the way. The fire is now nothing but smoldering ash. A gentle smoke lifting into the cool air.

  And the whispers call again.

  My head whips to the side, eyes pinned toward the hollowed log where I sat not long ago. Although the dark threatens to swallow me whole, my feet move of their own accord, and I’m walking toward the sounds that call to my ears and mine alone. With each slow step, a new sound forms, and I fight the tremble I feel begging to break free from my bones. For the whispers are clear now. They repeat a single word that my heart tells me I should know, but my mind tells me I haven’t learned. The word is so rhythmic and heartfelt, I don’t even push back the swell of tears as they flow free from my lashes, leaving messy streaks down my flushed cheeks.

  I know this sound.

  I’m so lost in the words that I’m surprised I feel him before I see him. A presence of light, in even the deadliest dark. There he lies by the log. A black tail flipping back and curling about, calling to me in a language that I shouldn’t know, but somehow do. As I slowly crouch down before him, his blue eyes meet mine. The whisper is no longer just a sound, but a word.

  It says my name.

  ↄ

  “Bravest!”

  A tight grip clutches my leg and I kick wildly, rising from my bed like the dead from the grave. Aras’ concerned eyes peer at me as if I’ve sprouted magical wings, and I’m ready to take flight. We stare at each other, our heavy breaths in sync. Recognition fills my heart.

  “It was just a dream,” I say to calm us both, reaching out to pry his grip from my calf.

  He shakes his head tightly, letting go of my leg only to grab hold of my hand, pulling me within inches of his face. “No, it was not just a dream,” he whispers. “Dreams may take your mind to another place, but they don’t leave your body possessed. Something is happening, Bravest, and you best be honest with me right now.”

  I pull back from his face, watching the intense search of his eyes. I’ve done something while I’ve slept, and from the looks of it, it was something quite alarming, too. “I’m not lying, Aras. It was a dream. It was the same dream that I’ve been having since we arrived in the woods. The same, yet different.”

  His face turns almost tender, a small frown tipping his lips. “Is someone trying to hurt you? Is that it?”

  I shake my head, too embarrassed to look him in the eye. “No, quite the opposite really. Someone trying to help maybe. I think—I think it’s someone who is trying to warn me and keep me safe.”

  He surprises me then, pulling me to his chest and wrapping me up in the securest of hugs. The sweet smell of honey and fresh rain surrounds me, and I find myself leaning into his chest, allowing the intoxicating scent to unravel my senses. Responding to my movement, his hand slides slowly back and forth across my shoulders, comforting me in a way that his words so rarely can. Closing my eyes tightly, I find myself selfishly wishing that this moment would never end.

  “Who is it?” he whispers hesitantly, as if he already knows what I’ll say.

  I bury my head into his shoulder, my words but a silent wisp against his neck. “It’s a panther, and he warns me of Reeve.”

  A rush of cool air fills the space before me, and I struggle to keep myself up at the loss of Aras’ hold. He’s on his feet now, moving about our small tent, while simultaneously running a heavy hand through his bed-riddled hair. He grabs his pack, not even bothering to change from his wrinkled, dirty tunic.

  “Aras!” I whisper, now bordering on frantic. “Aras!” I jump up, latching onto his arm and pulling his face to my own. “What is it?”

  His worried eyes finally find their focus. He sighs, dropping his pack at our feet. “I know you don’t want to hear this, Bravest, but I have to go.” Words struggle to rise from my throat before his hand catches my chin. “I mean it. I have to go now. I know you don’t like the idea of being alone with Reeve any more than I do, but I can promise that he won’t hurt us. At least, not now.”

  “But how do you know?” I say, batting his hand from my face. “I just told you that I’m being warned by a black panther of all things, and you think now is the time to go and meet this magical guru of Reeve’s?”

  “It will only be for the day. And yes, now it’s more important than ever. You’re coming into your magic, Bravest. It’s clear as day. The panther only proves it.”

  “Oh yeah, and how’s that? Because as I see it, he only serves as another reminder that I am clearly losing my mind!”

  He frowns, tipping his chin down in that annoyingly authoritative manner of his. “Do you remember when I said that your father has a certain thing for animals?”

  My face scrunches, and I rub a sloppy hand across my cheeks. Of course I remember him mentioning something about my father and animals, but I didn’t think it was important at the time. I was mostly focused on the fact that I’ve inherited some sort of evil magic and couldn’t even begin to consider my father’s interest in anything other than human torture.

  “See?” he continues. “Your father doesn’t just enjoy animals for their presence, he speaks with them. Controls them. He uses them for his own good. If this panther is communicating with you that can only mean one thing.”

  “That I’m going to die young and alone, with nothing to show for it but a bunch of wild cats?”

  “No.” He frowns, clearly unamused. “It means that you’ve inherited his gift, and if you have this one, then I’d bet anything that you have his fire, too. We just have to access it, and the only way to do that right now is to find out how.”

  “But aren’t you just forcing the inevitable?” I say. “Isn’t my father going to push me to master these skills the moment I step foot in his presence?”

  “Yes,” he says. “But you’re going to pretend that you can’t fully master them, and the only way you can do that is to have them under control.”

  “And you think this man can tell you how to teach me that? In one day?”

  “It’s all we have, Bravest, and now that I have to bring you to Orien, it’s the only thing I can still do to try to protect you. I made a promise to Emory and your mother, and I won’t go back on it now.”

  His words lash out like little cuts along my face, and a slow burn forms within my eyes. Looking away, I bite my lip, refusing to let him see me shed a single tear. I will not cry. I will not break. In fact, I will not care. I will not care not one single bit that he helps me out of promise—out of obligation. I knew this already. I knew he was deeply rooted within my past, but somewhere along this journey, I wanted to believe he’d become deeply rooted within my future. Not my mother’s or my father’s, or even my papa’s, but mine, and mine alone. I wanted him to help me because he is my friend, not because he cares what others want.

  “Then go. I’
ll be fine. I’m sure Reeve and I will make a grand day of it.”

  “Bravest—” he says, tentatively reaching for my hand.

  “No,” I say, my words as forceful as if I’ve pushed him back. “Go, and when you return, I expect you to at least spark my fire.”

  And then I leave him, a storm of flapping fabrics as I barge out of the tent and into the open camp. Reeve sits along a bench by the slow-burning fire, a piece of bread frozen before his lips. I smirk at his surprise, granting myself this one tiny pleasure. If I can start off Reeve’s morning by startling him, at least I’ve done something right.

  “Trouble with the charmer?” he chokes out as I settle down beside him, pulling the bread from his fingers and taking a heavy bite.

  “No.” I smile in the warmest of greetings. “It seems our friend has plans of his own today, whereas I would like to be on my way to Orien. Our discussion didn’t go well, as you might imagine.”

  Reeve’s head tilts to the side, and he watches me with a curious look that makes my hair stand on end. “Aras never made you aware of his plans? I would think he’d be more forthcoming to an ally he ran across in the woods.”

  I shrug, trying to remain calm under his creepy stare. “I never said we were close friends, and besides, there are some secrets that can only be trusted to yourself. I think every Orien understands that.”

  “Maybe you’re right,” he allows, though his narrowed eyes speak of something different. “It’s just that I’ve never seen Aras form a close relationship with anyone. Not out here, anyway.”

  “We’re two people with a common goal, Reeve, nothing more. Time in these woods has not served you well. You’re beginning to reach for things that aren’t there.”

  His shoulders square, bracing for a fight. “And you like that, do you?”