Look to the Stars (The Orien Trilogy Book 1)

by Catherine Wilson

  You know him as Papa, but I’ve always known him as Emory, and before you came into this world, he was my heart. Emory had grown up in the castle. His father was an important member of Knox’s close court. As Emory grew older, he was expected to follow in his father’s shoes and swear to protect the king at all costs. Even if that meant giving up a piece of his soul. Little known to others, Emory had no plans to join Knox’s army. Instead, he was the leader of a group of rebels who were bent on ending Knox’s reign. Secretly, I helped him, foolishly believing that together, we could win this war before it even began.

  But by now, my love, I think you know how the rest of this story goes. Emory became a bargaining chip for Knox—his life in exchange for an heir. Of course, I gave in, determined to leave at least one life untouched by the heat of Knox’s spirit. As part of our deal, Emory and his followers were not killed, but only banished from Orien, cursed to never set foot on her lands again. And as you probably already guessed, cursed to never leave the one place they call home. For while I forced Knox to agree not to harm Ashen and her people again, their protection was gained with a heavy price.

  Almost a year after Emory left, you graced us with your entrance into this world. While Knox was anxiously awaiting the day to meet his powerful heir, I was waiting too. Planning. Deceiving. Saving. Your birth was an event that neither Knox nor I will ever forget, but our reasons for remembering are not the same. For your birth marks the day that Knox lost his future power, and it’s also the day that I used my magic to fake your death.

  ↄ

  When the first of the whispers hit my ears, I think I may be dreaming. Lost in a place where two destinies await and foreign words turn into messages that call my name.

  But then I open my eyes to the cramped space around me, placing a quick hand on the worn journal by my side, and I remember that I’m normally not that lucky. It takes a moment to orient myself in the darkness, and I carefully slide up against the hard wall behind me.

  For now, the whispers have stopped, but that doesn’t mean I didn’t hear them. No, I heard them as clear as day. And just like that time with Aras in the woods, I understand exactly what they say.

  They call my name, and they ask me to come outside.

  Running a shaky hand along the wall, I make my way to what must be the door. I haven’t seen Reeve since he left in the morning light, but that doesn’t mean I haven’t been guarded well. His men seem to come in shifts, never speaking but making sure I know they are there all the same. Aside from bringing me food and changing out the ever-embarrassing chamber pot, I haven’t had a single interaction with any of them. By the time darkness fell, I was already curled up on my pallet, comatose by just a single chapter of my past.

  Reeve would skin me alive if he knew I only read one entry, but at this point, his punishment doesn’t sound so bad.

  I know it’s a useless gesture, but I stop at the door, tugging on its handle on the off chance one of Reeve’s minions left the door unlocked. To my surprise, it opens with ease. Quickly, I push the door shut, hoping that no one was on the porch, and that I haven’t been heard. Falling to a crouch, I wait for the heavy footsteps that are sure to come.

  To my relief, I’m met with silence. The treetops remain as quiet as could be, yet the whispers are now louder than ever.

  Don’t be afraid, Brave, they say. You are safe.

  Chills run across my arms at the words, and I shake my head, wondering if this is the moment when I truly lose my mind. Here I am, locked in a dark room, waiting for some important Theron soul to take me away, yet for some reason, the thought of listening to the whispers feels even crazier. As if I’m one step closer to plummeting over the edge.

  Grabbing hold of the latch and pulling it once more, I decide that it doesn’t matter. I’ve already listened to the voices before, and following them now won’t make any difference. I crossed over that edge a very long time ago.

  When the door slowly opens, and the low light of the moon filters through the trees, I’m not surprised when I find the open porch bare. Hesitantly, I move out onto it, grabbing the ladder to make my descent. Though part of me trembles at the thought of Reeve showing up, another part of me feels at ease. The whispers have never led me astray in the past, and I very much doubt they’ll change their ways now.

  Or at least that’s what I tell myself as my boots hit the forest floor.

  Afraid to let out a breath, I just stand there, perfectly still with my hands holding tight to the rope. I fully understand that once I turn around, there is no going back. I will do what the whispers ask of me, even if it’s a path that I wouldn’t choose to take.

  When I finally turn around and take in the woods before me, the whispers are no longer just a voice. Instead, they are a figure. One very familiar figure, to be exact. His black coat shines a subtle gleam against the dimly lit forest. I fall to my knees just as the final whispers hit my heart, and I wrap my arms around his warm chest, tugging him close. Every worry and confusion finally makes sense, for I was right all along.

  Not only does my panther come to me, but he also speaks to me as well.

  Thirty-Eight

  Papa always told me that sometimes the answers to our most difficult questions are the hardest to find, not because they are well hidden, but because they are often right in front of our face. As with all of my papa’s words, I took them seriously, though I never truly understood his logic until now.

  “The whispers have always belonged to you,” I say, pulling back from his chest and sitting on the dewy ground beside him.

  Some part of me knows that just as within the dream, his mouth will not open when he speaks, but it still comes as a shock when his blue eyes meet my own, and his thoughts simply arise in my head.

  “Always, Brave. It is a part of your gift. Your magic. I never thought you would need it, but I’m glad you have it now.”

  “Oh yes,” I sigh, “the infamous magic. The one that everyone seems to be trying to control, including you and Aras.”

  My words come out much harsher than I intend, especially when I know that the panther means me no harm. I’d like to think that my snide tone is just a side effect from feeling so let down by Aras. Just because the panther wants me to go to Orien, it doesn’t mean he has the same intentions.

  The panther stretches back on his front paws, before carefully lounging before me. For the first time, my ears prick at the silence that lingers through the trees, waiting for this moment to come crashing down on me, or rather, for Reeve to. If this panther has something to say, he needs to do it fast before we both end up speared in these woods.

  “It is true that Aras and I both want you to make it to Orien, but neither one of us plans to control you in any way. As for me, I won’t even be able to lead you there, as I can’t cross her borders. Aras will have to do that.” He pauses, a deep breath running through his nose. “We may have the same end result in mind, but Aras has always had very different reasons for protecting you. I used to be angry with him for it, but now, I can’t say that I blame him. I, too, was once young and full of hope, and for once, I’m pulling for him to get what he wants.”

  A low growl leaves his lips as he lowers his head atop his paws, but I swear there’s a smile within his voice. “But don’t you tell him I said that.”

  I shrug, his words stinging more than they should. So what if my panther still has faith in Aras? It isn’t as though I have to. At least, not until he earns it back.

  “Well, I don’t think you’ll have to worry about that, seeing as I’m headed to Theron by morning light. Why don’t you do me a favor and tell Aras that he was a terrible guide and I was a horrible follower, and in that way, it all worked out just as it was written.”

  My words falter, and he stands, slinking his way into my now shamefully blurry vision. He sits by my side. “Brave, my heart, how long has it been since you’ve looked to the stars?”

  His words lash out as if I’ve been bitten, and I scramble to my f
eet, backing up until my boots hit the hanging ladder, causing it to bang against the boards above. My eyes dart around into the dark trees, searching for Reeve and his men to come and take me for good. Turning, I lunge for the ladder, hoping that panthers don’t have a tendency to pounce on their fleeing guests.

  “Brave!” he calls as I frantically climb into the awaiting sky. “Brave! I would never hurt you, not ever. I know you’re confused, but you have to listen to me. You can’t go to Theron, at least not yet.”

  Footsteps begin to crash through the trees, and in the distance, a light flashes in the dark. I realize that this may very well be an important moment in my life. One of those places where one finds oneself torn in two, and then has to make a decision of which half to follow. And it just so happens that mine waits to occur when I’m suspended on a swinging ladder and holding on for dear life with trembling hands.

  Of course, my moment wouldn’t be easy.

  Pausing as the ladder continues to swing under the porch, I take one last look down at the panther who begs for me to listen. This decision could get me killed, but I need the answers all the same.

  “Who are you? And if you can’t tell me that, then at least tell me why Orien. Why now?”

  I expect him to waver, to hold out against all of my requests, but I’m merely met with his soft voice as he speaks in a language that only I can understand. “Because if you disobey Knox, he will stop at nothing to destroy you and all of Theron, just as he tried to do to your mother. But if you go to him willingly, make him believe that you are on his side, it will be much easier to take your enemy down from within. There is a time to go to Theron, Brave, but that time is not now. You will give Theron what she wants, but on your terms.”

  “Is that all?” I ask, watching the light dance closer among the trees.

  For a second, he looks as if he’s going to stop and turn away—return to wherever it is his heart will lead him next, before he speaks again. “There’s also someone in Orien who needs your help. Your protection. When you arrive there, you’ll give it away freely. Not because you have to, but because you’ll want to. And as for your first question, I think you already know the answer, my heart.”

  And then he’s gone, disappearing into the dark trees as if they’ve just swallowed him up whole. I suspend a moment longer, staring into the empty woods, before my boots tear up the ladder and I finally thrust myself onto the porch above. Not risking another glance, I crash into the room, pulling the door shut behind me. Sliding to the floor, I crawl around on the boards, frantically searching for my pack and the simple words it holds within.

  Finally, my hands run across its worn fabric, and I tear into its front pocket, searching for one of the letters I hid there so long ago. The letter that I have memorized in my heart. Just as I find the paper’s soft edge, the door to my cage opens and a light shines across the wooden floor. The words on the letter jump out into the air, as if freeing themselves from a burden kept hidden for much too long.

  You are always with me, my Brave, for you are my heart. Until I find home, look to the stars, for you’ll find me there.

  The only thought I have before Reeve reaches down and roughly snatches the worn letter from my hand is the one I should have had all along. For sometimes, the answer to our hardest question is hanging right before our face.

  I once said that the only reason I entered these woods was to find my papa, but apparently, he already found me long ago.

  Thirty-Nine

  When the early morning light finally graces us with its presence, I’m in no better mood than I was the very second Reeve shoved his cocky lantern in my face. Sadly, I haven’t even moved, really. I’ve only chosen to sit on my knees and stare into the bare wall as if every other answer in my life would magically appear before my face.

  Naturally, Reeve hasn’t spoken much either. Except, of course, to tell me that my lack of a station guard was a momentary lapse of security, and that I shouldn’t get any stupid ideas. Oh, and that Emory had escaped his cage, and although they thought he would hang around until my Theron escort arrives, they haven’t seen him since.

  Emory. Also known as my papa, or as some might say, the black panther who guards my every step.

  “How long have you known, exactly, that my papa was a cursed cat?” I ask, finally looking away from the wall and staring at the piece of paper still carefully folded up in his hands.

  He laughs under his breath, but he refuses to meet my eye. “How long have you not? You can’t honestly tell me that you didn’t have some suspicion. Some inkling that there might be more to your new pet than you originally thought.”

  And Reeve is right; I will give him that. There was always something a little off about the panther, just based solely on the knowledge that he is the only large animal I’ve seen during my time here in the woods. Well, and also that he happens to appear in my dreams. Though the thing that bothers me the most is that my brain never even tried to make a connection. I was so worried about finding my papa and fighting off my awful feelings for Aras that I didn’t see what was right in front of me.

  Obviously, this is all my fault, but that doesn’t mean I’m not going to try to blame it on my bum guide anyway.

  “Oh, I knew there was more to him, based solely on the fact that he came to me in my dreams, but Aras assured me that was just my magic brewing,” I finally answer with a shrug. “He never said, Oh, by the way, Brave, that black cat is your dad.”

  “You see,” he says, tossing the folded letter back into my greedy hands, “that’s exactly why you can’t trust Aras. He keeps too many secrets.”

  “And you don’t, cousin?”

  He smirks, rising to reach for my hand and pull me from the confines of my hut. “I don’t keep things from you, Brave. I just said I wouldn’t tell you specifics until you were capable of listening.”

  Yanking him still, I pause to tuck Papa’s letter back safely in its pocket, along with another letter that I shouldn’t have ever kept. If there is one good thing that can be said about this whole situation with Aras, it’s that he never knew I kept his crazy note. I can’t even begin to imagine what he would say if he did, and though I want to rub dirt in my eyes for my reaction, I can’t help the small blush of heat that I can feel tickling up my neck.

  “Oh, Brave,” Reeve huffs with clear disgust. “Please don’t tell me you’re still thinking about that traitor. You shame your Theron blood when your cheeks turn all rosy like that.”

  Making sure the pocket is securely closed, I stand again, allowing him to pull me out the door, and to my surprise, down the ladder. I don’t trust myself to speak again until my feet are planted solidly on the forest floor.

  “Such bold words, Reeve. Shame. Blood. Traitor. It’s funny how I often use those same words to describe you. Besides, my pale cheeks can turn red for a variety of reasons, none of which you know me well enough to be aware of, obviously.”

  “Don’t even start with that mess. The only time I’ve ever seen you wearing any sort of pink was around him. Otherwise, your cheery expression always sings things like, don’t look at me, and it’s not my fault you’re so unlikeable or my personal favorite, watch out before I stab you with my cursed dagger.”

  Reeve turns his back to move, as if I’m just going to willingly follow his path. I, however, have no intentions of doing that. Crossing my arms, I call him to a stop.

  “Just a couple of problems, Reeve. Number one, I’m not going anywhere with you until you tell me what you have planned. Number two, I do not own a cursed dagger. A perfectly handcrafted, slightly tonic-laced dagger, yes, but nothing more. And also, I find your disparaging words about my character to be completely off base, yet predictable, coming from you anyway.”

  “I’m pretty sure that was three things, Brave,” he says through his teeth, all the while rubbing a heavy hand though his short hair.

  His deep blue tunic and matching dark pants do nothing to hide the clear tension riding in his shoulders, a
nd a trickle of unease drips down my spine. I hadn’t noticed before, but this is a new outfit for Reeve. I’ve never seen him in anything but dirty rags of muted browns and the occasional black, and because I’ve been so wrapped up in my own misery, I somehow missed something important once again.

  “Reeve,” I call, causing him to shoot me a sharp look over his shoulder. “Where are we going? You can at least answer me that.”

  A cool grin pulls at his lips, and he saunters back to my spot by the ladder. “You didn’t think we’d let you meet the prince and his cavalry looking like this, did you?” He grabs my hand, and this time when he pulls, my feet somehow override my shock and start to stumble along. “There’s a small pool in the river a short walk from here. It’s where you’ll wash up.”

  I’m quite sure that he continues to ramble throughout our walk among the silent trees, but I’m also quite sure that I’m not ready to listen. Honestly, my ears stopped working after he said the words prince and you in the same sentence. I’ve had enough time in the dark over the last two days to ponder who my new escort might be, but never did I even come close to considering royalty as being a part of those calculations.

  Am I really so important that a prince would come as my escort? Surely, the stars above must jest.

  “Brave!” Reeve calls, and I blink my eyes, startled to find that we’ve stopped at the bank in front of slow-moving pool of water.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I see his hand start to rise, and I grab it, nails digging in, before he can touch my cheek. “Don’t even think about it!” I growl, tossing his hand away from my face.

  Reeve glares, but he doesn’t attempt to raise his hand again. “Well, if you’d act like you were alive for once, maybe I wouldn’t have to check!”

  I return his glare with a steely one of my own, and I ponder asking him whether his mother taught him any manners. But then I remember that he spent most of his life without a mother and decide to keep that comment to myself. Though to be fair, I also grew up without a mother, and I turned out fine.