Look to the Stars (The Orien Trilogy Book 1)

by Catherine Wilson

  “No, I don’t. And it’s exactly why people like us are trying to work for a change. It’s just we have our own ways of going about it. Whatever Aras needs to do, I trust him. Not because I particularly like him, but because we share a common goal. One that I’d like to believe I also share with you. Now, if you can’t handle me being here for the day, I’ll convince Aras to let me tag along. If you can, I’d rather let him be.”

  He quiets for a moment, shamelessly staring as I finish the last of his bread. “Alright, Brave, I believe you. For now, at least. Besides, I think the two of us could have a little fun together, don’t you agree?”

  I’m saved from a response when a throat clears behind us. “I’m heading off. I should be back before nightfall, but I trust you two will get along well while I’m gone.”

  Aras stands with his arms folded across his chest, a lightened pack slung across his shoulder. His expression looks anything but approachable, and my eyes dart away at the sight of it. I’ve never seen him look so angry.

  “Of course.” Reeve smiles, reaching out to pat me on the leg.

  Aras’ eyes turn even colder before he looks to me once more. “A word, Bravest?”

  Despite my anger with him, I’m immediately on my feet, ready to do anything to get away from my cruel company for the day. Aras walks me over to the edge of the clearing, his back turned to camp as worried eyes take hold. “You’ll be fine, but if for some reason you were to feel unsafe, run. Run and I’ll find you. Or,” he lowers his voice, looking to the ground, “perhaps the panther will. Either way, we’ll make it to where we need to be.”

  “I’m not afraid,” I say, unwilling to look him in the eye.

  “I know you’re not.” He sighs, reaching out to touch my shoulder, but stopping himself midway. A small part of me crumbles, and I frown, despising the awful ways my body has begun to respond to him. “Wait for me, and I’ll come back for you. I promise.”

  “And do you promise me or everyone else?” I ask, fighting a cringe at the weakness in my voice.

  A sad smile forms on his lips. “You, Bravest. It’s always been you.”

  My heart lurches, and I have to beg my hand not to reach out and grab his sleeve. When I give no response, he turns to walk away, leaving me cold and alone at the edge of the woods. But just when I think he’s out of sight, that he’s lost to me forever, he stops, turning to look over his shoulder. “If you have time, look in your pack. I’ve placed something there. For what it’s worth, you may not want it, but you deserve to have it all the same.”

  And then he is gone, and I’ve never felt so empty.

  Twenty-Six

  The woods are louder now that Aras is gone. Every sound sends a sharp tinge to my ears, a scrape against their drum. It’s as if when I was with him, it was just the two of us, trapped inside an ever-stretching bubble in which neither us could escape. Now that I’m alone, the trance is broken, and I can breathe again. See again. Hear again. Although it’s not the whistles through the trees or the animals scavenging about that scare me.

  It’s the fact that I miss my bubble.

  “Would you like to take a walk?” Reeve asks, causing me to jump at his words. It’s the first time either of us has spoken since Aras left, and my head darts up, realizing it must be near midday. If Aras were here, he’d say I just set a new record for keeping my trap shut.

  I sigh, stretching my arms above my head while considering his words. A walk does sound nice. It would get me out of this camp and hopefully Aras out of mind, but at the same time, I can’t help but wonder what’s in it for Reeve. Is this the part of my story where he leads me to my demise or is he actually being a courteous host? I decide it can’t hurt to ask.

  “What did you have in mind?” I question, hoping he doesn’t sense the thin layers of fear in my voice.

  “Well, for starters, eating would be nice, and then I’d like to show you something. Something I think you would enjoy.”

  My eyes narrow at his words, knowing good and well he cares nothing for my enjoyment. His hands rise in defense. “I mean it, truly. Is it so hard to believe I would like you to see something that’s important to me? I never claimed we were friends, Brave, but I am human. There’s only so much sitting around this camp I can do. I’m not used to it, you know, and I’m doing Aras a big favor by babysitting you for the day.”

  “Fine,” I grouch, standing up from the hard bench for the first time in what feels like ages. My back aches with resistance, but I push through the pain, striding across the way to my tent. “For what it’s worth, you should also know that I’m doing Aras a favor by sitting around here waiting while he runs his errands.”

  Reeve doesn’t say a word, waving me off as he, too, turns toward his shack and readies himself for our walk. A sense of unease runs through my belly, but I brush it off, intent on gathering my pack. As I enter the tent, my gaze lands upon something new left carefully wrapped on the ground beside my things. Reaching to pull back the worn fabric, I’m surprised to find a dark leather journal lying innocently within the folds. A hesitant finger reaches out to run its tip along the smooth cover, and a sense of longing pulls at me to cradle the book within my arms.

  It’s Aras’ journal, and for the love of all things Ashen, he somehow trusts me to read it.

  Carefully, I wrap the journal back into its cloth, stuffing it into my pack. I may not have time to read it now, but maybe somewhere along my adventure today, I will. The thought of reading its words brings Aras’ parting warning to mind. I may not like what his journal has to say, but I need to know its secrets all the same. Before I can second-guess my decision, I close my pack and push through the tent’s flaps. Reeve stands near the edge of the clearing, his back to my approaching form.

  “For what it’s worth, you are safe in these woods,” he says as his eyes roam the trees like a thief taking in his bounty.

  “I never thought I wasn’t,” I lie, shouldering my pack and forcing myself to follow his lead.

  ↄ

  Our walk, though relatively quiet, is surprisingly full of visitors. After Reeve motioned for me to stop as he went off to the side to speak with another painted member of his territory for the second time in our journey, I quickly began to understand that this trip wasn’t just for fun, it was for necessity. His looks may be deceiving, but Reeve is of important station in these woods, and he clearly takes his role here seriously. The other members of The Lost, though I try to make eye contact with each one of them, ignore me completely, dead set on their leader and his words. I regretfully hear nothing of their conversations, but I do find some peace in the fact that there must be more going on in these woods than a missing princess, or else I’d think more eyes would be interested in me.

  “Do you wonder why they don’t question you?” Reeve asks, surprising me as the soft ground below starts to tilt downhill.

  I shrug my shoulders, more intent on placing my feet before me than on his words. Part of me did think it was unusual that none of his followers even took notice of the rare woman behind him. I understand that Reeve is their leader, and apparently, leaders aren’t to be questioned.

  “It’s because they trust me. As their friend, as their leader. They know I would do nothing to put them in jeopardy. You aren’t going to make me go back on my promise, are you, Brave?”

  His question startles me, and my foot slips slightly before I grab onto a branch beside me, righting my path. “I thought we already discussed my purpose here, Reeve. We stand on even ground, you and me, and when the time comes, all I’ll ever ask of you is for help to do the one thing I know you’ve always wanted.”

  His footsteps come to a halt, and he turns around, leaning stiffly against a tree. “To overthrow Knox, then? Is that the help you’ll need?”

  I pause, knowing good and well that the next words to leave my lips better not only be good ones, but also the right ones. “Yes, along with changing Orien’s ways. That’s all I’ve ever wanted, and despite how much we may bu
tt heads, I think that’s all Aras has ever wanted, too,” I say, throwing my friend’s name into the mix in hopes that it strikes a well-tuned cord.

  His eyes turn brighter then, appeasement showing in his upturned lips. “Good. I’m glad we’ve clarified our purpose. Now, if you’re ready, I’d like to show you something special.”

  I give him a firm nod, motioning ahead with my arm, all the while fighting a grimace. He turns, leading the way, and I fight the urge to disappear through the trees. I’m beginning to realize that each conversation I have with this man puts me one leg deeper into a hole I’m not sure how to get out of. And if I’m not careful, I’m afraid I’ll pull Aras and all of Ashen down with me.

  It’s not long into our downward trek that a quiet rumble begins to prick my ears, and at first, I’m afraid it’s the whispers coming to haunt me again. I fight my palms as they threaten to flail toward my ears, ready to block out the sounds that turn my thoughts to mush. Instead, we round our last set of trees to find, of all things, sunlight… and lots of it. My ears hardly notice the now-deafening roar as my eyes drink in the clear blue sky above. I’m speechless—thoroughly entranced, when Reeve clears his throat.

  “I thought you’d like it here,” he says, tipping his head up to the wispy clouds as they float and dance above like characters in a long-forgotten play.

  For once, I return his words with a smile, refusing to break my eyes away from the beauty before me—the ordinary I’ve always taken for granted. Memories of a simpler time invade my thoughts, and I picture myself lying on the garden’s floor, eyes turned up in a search for the next picture in the clouds. Papa constantly bested me at that game. He could always see more than anything he set his eyes upon, including me. I close my eyes, wishing it were night.

  Perhaps I could find him in the stars.

  Forcing my lids open, I leave the beckoning sky and tip my head down to take in our new surroundings. I almost let out an embarrassing gasp at what I see. The roar that so frightened me before is none other than the rushing waves of water as they plummet from a rock ledge high above the hill we’ve just descended. A waterfall, I think, though I’ve never seen one. The frothy bubbles twist and rumble at the fall’s base, and I wonder how I could have confused this sound with the whispers. One a relaxing melody, a literal cleansing to the soul, while the other guts and claws with each note. They could never be more different.

  “I can see why you might find this so enjoying,” I say with a tease, tossing Reeve’s own words back at him.

  For the first time in our brief acquaintance, Reeve answers my words with a genuine smile of his own. For a moment, I wonder if this is really who the panther warned me of after all. And if it’s not him, then who is it?

  “Come,” he says, motioning over to the small meal displayed along the rocky edge of the falls. “Let’s eat.”

  The sight itself sends a funny twist to my gut. Abruptly, our short truce comes to a halt. “Is this where you bring all of your lady friends?” I ask, choosing to stand back as he moves toward the feast before us.

  His body shakes with a huff and he settles down on the ground, barely taking a breath before tipping back a long chug of soup. A thin line of brown coats his upper lip, and he pegs me with those sharp eyes of his, as if daring me to prove him wrong. “No, but this is where I take my lunch each day.” He watches me, reaching out to grab an apple and nosily chomping it between his teeth. “If you’re not going to eat, I will.”

  His words pull at my empty stomach, and I move to join him along the water’s edge. Taking a bowl in my own hands, I tilt it back, relishing the warm gravy and chopped meat as it washes over my tongue. For the second time today, something of these woods reminds me of home.

  “And before you ask, which I know you were, my men always prepare a meal for me. Call it a gift of sorts, for shouldering a burden that not many are willing to bear.” He smiles, licking his fingers of sticky fruit.

  I smile thickly in return, pretending he hasn’t ruined my appetite with talks of the newest burden he has to bear. One that wouldn’t exist had my friend’s arrow not found his former leader’s neck.

  Thankfully, the rest of our meal goes quietly, the two of us each lost in our little worlds, or more than likely, agendas. I’ve just taken my last sweet bite of apple when he jumps to his feet, leaving me to all but choke on my precious meal.

  “I’m going for a swim. Are you in?” he asks, pulling off his worn shirt to reveal hard, but feather-pale skin. He catches me staring, a sly smile pulling at his arrogant lips. If this were Aras before me, I’d certainly blush, but it’s not. The reason I eye him so closely isn’t because I like what I see. It’s because his fair coloring reminds me of my own.

  “Maybe in a bit,” I lie, knowing I’d never set foot in unknown waters without someone I trust. “I think I may just lie out in the sun for a while and enjoy those rays I so rarely see.”

  He shrugs, as if to say your loss, and throws his boots and pants to the side before diving off into the churning waters. I roll my eyes so hard it hurts and thank Aras’ skies above that at least he is wearing undershorts. I’m not sure I could take much more of this dreaded journey if he wasn’t.

  Sneaking one last look at Reeve bobbing comfortably along the waters as they crash down around him, his light skin almost gleaming in the sun, I scoot back up the bank and quickly grab my pack. After checking to make sure both Papa and Aras’ letters still lie safely tucked within its front pocket, my hesitant fingers glide along the edge of the worn journal. Figuring that now is as good of a chance as ever, I snatch the leather from its wrap and pull it into my trembling hands. Rubbing my palm across the cover, I take one last deep breath before turning it open and taking in the first page.

  Immediately, my vision becomes fuzzy, my breaths as uneven as that ill-fated jog to these very woods. The letters before me blur in and out before coming to a solid mess of confusion and hurt. By the time I can force myself to take in the first words scrawled neatly across the aged paper, there is only one realization that comes to mind.

  This journal doesn’t belong to Aras, but to someone else.

  Twenty-Seven

  Entry One

  There is no date at the top of this entry because simply put, there is no need. Today is both the very best and the very worst day of my life. But how can that be, you ask? How can one be filled with both happiness and a deep, sad longing all at once? Well, I’ll tell you—for today is the day I gave away my heart.

  It is hard to explain this giving away of the heart business because I find that very few in life have actually done it. It seems I am in a category all to myself, and though I don’t regret my decision, it’s not a place I ever wanted to be. The whole walk home, I was trying to find something to compare this experience to, something to help me realize that with time, I would be all right. There was nothing, of course, but I was determined to make myself feel better. Determined to make myself believe in a purpose. That’s when I remembered Thicket.

  Thicket was a young, poor little thing. Fallen out of her nest and resting alone on the ground for who knows how long, she was nearly dead by the time I found her. A young hatchling of a bird with barely enough feathers to cover her patchy, bald head. Mother was the first person I showed her to, cradled gently against my chest in a plush, blue blanket.

  “Can I keep her?” I’d asked.

  “For now,” she’d said, “but don’t cry when she’s grown and you have to let her fly.”

  I nodded valiantly that day, left with only but a vague notion as to why my mother would think I’d ever cry over a bird. After all, I wanted to help her. Why wouldn’t I be prepared to see her fly?

  Thinking back, the weeks seemed to speed by in a blur, but at the moment, I remember time coming to a still, a crawling drag from one day to the next. It was a lot of work, caring for and feeding Thicket, but I enjoyed it all the same.

  One day, while I was stroking Thicket’s soft feathers with the tips of my fing
ers, Mother came to announce that she thought it was time. Thicket had grown strong, and unlike other birds her age, she was spending her days sitting in a cage while a young girl sat nearby as entertainment. A dark cloud settled over my world. It wasn’t until that moment that I began to understand why Mother had warned me about nursing her. Instead of showing my fear, I bit my lip and produced a stiff nod. I could give Thicket up, if that’s what she needed me to do.

  That afternoon, I held Thicket gently between my palms and took her out to the back gardens that lined our estate. It was less crowded out there, and I felt that of all places, the non-threatening rose-covered audience would hold her greatest chance at success.

  “Do not be afraid,” I’d gently whispered against her feathers. “Shall you ever find yourself lost again, this time you know where to find me.”

  And with that, I pumped my palms up into the air, a glorious flapping sound echoing in my ears. For Thicket didn’t just fly, she soared. She rose into the air with purpose, as if there was nothing else in this world that she was ever meant to do. Even though a single tear escaped and ran down my flushed cheeks, I smiled. For in that moment, I knew I would never see her again, but I understood that Thicket didn’t just need to live, she needed to thrive.

  I learned that day that the hardest things we have to give up are not what we want, but what we love. Today, I am in mourning because I’ve given up a part of my soul. I’ve given up a piece of my very being. My blood. My heart. My everything. So even as my teeth clench, and I fight back the swell of pain, I remember my mother’s words just as clearly as the day she said them. I will not cry. Instead, I will rejoice. For it is your turn, my love.

  Don’t just fly, Brave, soar.

  ↄ

  Nothing.

  The warm sun covers me in its careful rays for the first time in ages, and in the distance, water rumbles to a soothing beat.

  Yet, nothing.

  That is what I am. What I’ve become. I’m no longer just a girl sitting along the pulsing rush of a river—a tired mess who is just in search of her papa and fighting a miserable yearn for a boy who will probably always remain rightfully out of reach.