Look to the Stars (The Orien Trilogy Book 1)

by Catherine Wilson

  Well, fine-ish.

  “I’m only going to ask this question once, and you will give me a true answer this time, Reeve. No veiled words or half-washed lines of poetry, are we clear?”

  Reeve’s stance turns rigid, fingers curling at his sides as if he is the one who can spit fire from his limbs and not the other way around.

  “Who is this prince, and why does he care if I look like I’ve been dragged through the woods by savages?”

  In answer, Reeve grabs a jagged rock from the bank, turning quickly and hurling it with all of his might into the water below. His chest shakes with violent breaths, and I think my words may have somehow pushed too far.

  Or maybe just not far enough.

  “Well, that wasn’t a very cousin-like reaction. If you and I are ever going to consider ourselves family, I dare say we must work on our communication. Otherwise, I think we’re destined to hate each other forever.”

  “And that would be just fine by me,” he huffs, turning to face me with a crazed look in his eyes. “The trouble with you, Brave, is that you never listen, even when it’s for your own good.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I say, folding my arms across my chest and preparing myself for the very real chance that he might rush me.

  “Oh, I know you don’t. You don’t know a thing because you didn’t read. You had how much time to yourself, just sitting there in your room, and yet you couldn’t listen to the one piece of advice that I gave you? You couldn’t take the time to read the one thing your mother risked her life to give you?”

  Heat rises in my chest, and suddenly, it’s me rushing him as my palms land hard against his shoulders. My fingers graze a raised emblem that I’ve yet to notice, and I slide my hand, taking in the dark green T molded on top of a shield. The mark of Theron, no doubt, and right now, it may as well be the mark of my enemy.

  For the first time since my unsuccessful call of magic in my caged hut, my fingers begin to tingle and a familiar pain rips through my bones. Reeve’s eyes dart to his chest and back to my face, no doubt feeling the heat as my magic prepares to leave my body in the only way it knows how.

  “Brave—” he sputters, but this time when his cooling assault hits the tips of my fingers, it is nothing but a small breeze flaming my fire within.

  “Just tell me why the prince is coming for me, Reeve. That’s all I want to know.”

  The words come out forced and short, as if the little air I have left is not moving through my lungs but through my heated fingers. Reeve’s chest shudders under the weight of my hands, no doubt calling on the full power of his shield, his magic, to block me out. For he was wrong when he said I didn’t listen—I did. I may have only read a chapter of my mother’s journal, but I read enough to know what I needed for a moment just as this. My mother’s words taught me that while the Theron do possess magic, it is a magic of one purpose.

  Defense.

  And a magic that can only defend may do well to protect a city, but it doesn’t do very well in terms of mounting an attack. Especially when it’s faced with the magic of a child powerful enough to set two kingdom’s free. Yes, unfortunately for Reeve, I did listen.

  Just this one time.

  Smoke begins to dwindle out of my fingers, like slithering snakes coiling up and reaching for the clear sky. Reeve’s magic pushes against me once more, but this time, I can begin to feel the subtle signs of its limits. I can see it in his eyes the moment his biggest nightmare comes true, and for an instant, I’m sure he can see the same fear reflected in my own.

  For I’ve just become the monster I never wanted to be.

  “Brave! Please! Just listen!” He shakes, grabbing at my wrists and quickly dropping his hands when he finds that they burn.

  “Not until you answer me!” I growl with an angry edge I’m sure is not my own.

  Slowly, tiny flames begin to lick out from my fingertips, and I smell the smooth fabric of his tunic as it begins to singe. Somewhere deep inside of me, there is a faint voice that calls for me to stop—tells me I’m only destined for madness if I let fire take control.

  I don’t have the strength to tell it that I’ve already been consumed.

  A single flame shoots loose from my hold, flinging up to the trees and narrowly missing Reeve’s panicked face.

  “Penelope Brave!” he yells, still trying to calm the pulsing heat and push me away as flames start to light under my hands. “He’s your betrothed—the prince. He’s set to marry you not long after you arrive. It’s nothing new. This was a deal set in motion long ago. Your mother sealed your fate in hopes that if you were ever discovered, you would have someone safe and powerful to take care of you. Theron knew of your existence all along. Of course, Knox knows nothing of the deal. It’s why you must make it to Theron first, so that you’ll have the power of our people on your side. They’ve been waiting years for you to come out of hiding. He’s been waiting.”

  His words send a cold shudder through my burning limbs, and for the first time, the flame within begins to waver. Reeve’s chest heaves beneath my heated fingers, and I slowly pull back from his chest, cringing at charred spots of black scattered across the ruined blue. Clear evidence that I have indeed lost my mind.

  “Reeve,” I start, “I’m so sorry. I—”

  Before I can even say the words, Reeve’s fearful eyes roll back in his head, and my apparent cousin collapses in a heap at my feet. Bile rises in my throat as I fall to the ground, sure that I’ve just burnt to ruins one of the only remaining family members I have left. Tearing at his tunic, I pull back the ripped fabric, only to be stunned at what I see.

  His skin beneath is perfect—not even a single mark or scratch.

  My mind whirls with the possibilities, trying to make sense of what cannot be. Perhaps I only scared him to death? Am I even capable of that? Scaring people to death with a flash of scary magic? Skies above, I hope not. If that’s the case, then we’re all in danger.

  Pushing away my thoughts, I let out a tiny sigh of relief when my frantic fingers find a slow pulse on his wrist. Reeve is going to kill me when he wakes, but thank goodness, he’s not dead. Slowly, I start to pull away, my shoulders sagging with relief, when my eyes zero in on something I hadn’t noticed before. Something short and skinny protruding from his neck.

  Something that looks very much like a dart.

  “They tell me that Prince Ian is quite the looker, you know.”

  My head pops up at the voice, startling me not only with its mere presence, but also with its tenor. Standing before me with a lazy hand propped on her hip and my pack slug across her shoulder is quite possibly the fiercest woman I’ve ever seen. Her straight, dark hair is chopped unevenly around her chin, as if one day she decided to cut it on a whim and sawed the strands off with her knife. Her dark clothes, while worn, are clean and cut tight, and her sharp eyes consume me as I slump over Reeve, digging in deep as if she can see into my very soul. As the only woman I’ve caught sight of wandering freely in these woods, I can only hope that she belongs to the elusive band that Aras spoke of so long ago. Though I have an idea of what her presence means for Reeve, I have no idea what it means for me.

  She’s as stunning as she is terrifying.

  “Although I think we both know that the exact same could be said of Aras,” she continues, walking toward me with a calculating strut until her black boots stop against Reeve’s limp arm in the dirt.

  She cocks her head to the side as she stares down, and I shiver as if I’m a rabbit caught in her snare. Slowly, she bends down to meet my eyes as a ghost of a smile betrays her threatening exterior. “But here’s what I really need to know. If given the option of seeking help when you are in trouble, for whose hand would you reach? The Theron prince or the Orien rebel?”

  The answer whispers from my lips—not as if it’s the only option I have, but as if it’s the only option I’ll ever want.

  “Aras,” I breathe.

  A wide grin spreads ac
ross her thin lips, and she reaches down, pulling my dagger out of her boot and offering it toward me in her gloved hand. “I think you and I are going to get along just fine, Princess. Just fine, I think.”

  Forty

  I haven’t moved an inch since the wild woman left me here with strict instructions to stay put until she could secure the area. I’m not exactly sure what she meant by that, but I’m sure it has something to do with the rest of Reeve’s men being shot in the neck with her own special blend of backwoods dart.

  The company I run with just keeps getting better and better.

  A low moan sounds at my feet, and I jump out of my skin as Reeve’s head rolls to the side. I stand, determined to make a run for it at the mere hint of his coherence, even if I have no clue where to turn. For all I know, any path could take me right to my apparent betrothed, and that thought alone causes another wave of nausea to rise in my gut. And here I believed my biggest problem was how to deal with a man who won’t have me, when all along there was another who thought I was already his.

  A high whistle sounds though the trees, and my tense shoulders lower at the sight of her jagged, black hair strutting into view. “Already getting fidgety on me, huh? Aras said you were a little flighty.”

  “Oh, did he?” I jump, puffing out my chest as if I could shove my magical feathers in her face. “And just where is our Orien rebel? Still tied up with the houseful of women who he accidently led astray? I was about to be auctioned off to the highest Theron bidder before you and your fancy darts got here. I think I deserve the right to be a little fidgety!”

  A wide grin flashes across her face, as if she knew speaking of Aras was just the right button to push. My eyes dart away, studiously tracing Reeve’s slack features while trying to decide if I hold any ounce of familial remorse for his current predicament.

  I quickly decide that I don’t.

  “Trust me, Princess. Our Orien rebel is just where he needs to be, though I know every second of his time away is worrying another precious little hair on his head.” She quiets, walking forward to bend down and place her hands around Reeve’s boots. “You see, I’m the kind of girl you call when you’re in serious trouble, and Aras knew exactly what he had gotten himself into.”

  “Gotten me into,” I correct. “The last time I saw Aras, he was lying blissfully asleep on a pallet filled with my blankets. Forgive me if I don’t immediately grasp his sense of trouble.”

  She shrugs and looks up into my eyes, a coy understanding wading in their pools of shaded blue. “And I can also see that Aras was right when he said he might have made a few mistakes concerning you. It’s why I insisted he stay back and wait for us at the border. Besides, Aras is expendable to these people. You, on the other hand, are not. You’re going to have enough to worry about without having to work through some star-crossed love affair.”

  Star-crossed, indeed. If by that she means we’re destined to ruin each other’s lives.

  At this point, I’m not the least bit surprised at the offensive remarks that continue to roll off her tongue like yesterday’s news. In fact, I don’t even have the strength to respond, choosing only to stare back with an utterly blank look on my face. For I think I’ve had enough of Aras, stars, and doomed affairs. There’s just something about learning that not only is your papa a cursed cat, but your actual father also made him that way, that’s quite off putting. It leaves little room for nonsense in my brain—so much so that I barely notice the telltale sign of heat as it trickles through my limbs.

  “Be careful there, Princess,” she says calmly, the only clue of worry sketched in her raised brows. “I’m not from Theron, so that magic of yours could burn me to the core in one second flat. You might want to think about that before your Theron prince arrives, seeing as I’m your only hope at finding your way to Aras alive.”

  “My papa would help me,” I grit through my teeth while I fight to hold back the growing flames.

  They’re getting stronger now. Easily stirred. I’m not quite sure how I feel about that either. Perhaps there should be some notion of pride at one’s ability to control a wild flame, but the only emotion I can conjure up is guilt, and lots of it.

  “That’s true.” She slowly nods. “Emory will guide you for most of the way, but right now, he’s waiting in our agreed-upon spot. It would take him hours to get here, and you don’t have hours, Princess. Prince Ian arrives before midday, and it sneaks upon us yet.”

  I curl my fingers, fighting the pulse that pushes at my knuckles. Though it may not be ideal, it’s more than a little obvious that I need her help. It’s clear she was sent by Aras, and she has communicated in one form or another with Papa, but that doesn’t mean I should just blindly follow her lead. At some point, probably even sooner than she thinks, Reeve is going to wake up, and when he does, I don’t want to be anywhere near his vicinity. I want to be over Orien’s border, where, for just this very once, I can be thankful for my cruel father’s magic. Oh, I’ll follow this woman’s path all right, but only if we’re headed in the same direction.

  “A few things,” I say, bending down to her level.

  She nods her head again, but not before I see a flash of actual concern in her eyes.

  “First, don’t call me princess. I’m not a princess of any kingdom until I deem it so, and as of right now, I haven’t. You can call me Brave. Second, you’ll tell me what we plan on doing with Reeve and his men. I know from experience that a little tonic won’t stop him from finding me. I want to know how you plan to keep me safe. Third, I want to know your name. If you’re going to help me, then I should at least know who to properly thank. And fourth, I want to know what’s in it for you.”

  A small smile returns to her face, and just like that, her shoulders relax as she lets go of Reeve’s boots and stands to her feet. “Well first, Aras asked me to call you Bravest, and something told me you wouldn’t take so kindly to that. Either way I see it, you’re a princess of somewhere.”

  I stand to my feet, the refusal fresh on my lips, but she holds out her hand, determined to finish whether I want to hear her words or not. “Look, you can be princess of Ashen for all I care. The point is that you’re destined to do it, no matter which star you choose to follow. Second, don’t underestimate the plans I have for Reeve and his buddies. The darts and laced waters are just the start of it, and we won’t have to worry about them finding you soon.”

  “Laced water?” I ask before a quiet smile finds its way to my face. “It was you, wasn’t it? The night my hut was without a guard? You did something to his drink.”

  She smiles proudly, crossing her arms over her chest. “What? Did you really believe Reeve’s little story about a mix-up? Prideful fool. If he were a little smarter, he would have spotted me hiding in his woods.” She shrugs, as if the thought of pulling off her task with such apparent ease has been the ultimate letdown. “I’m also the one who let Emory out, by the way. Idiots. They never saw me coming.”

  Flashing a quick smile, her sleek eyes dart away, resting upon Reeve’s sleeping form in the dirt. Though she doesn’t say a word, I can almost see the dark wheels turning in her head. She has some plans for Reeve, that’s for sure, and I’m about to ask her to elaborate more on those exact plans, when she shakes her head, looking to me once more.

  “Third,” she continues, “my name’s Lo. It’s nothing fancy. Nothing much. But it suits me all the same. I’m going to go ahead and assume that unlike Aras, you don’t like to make up loveable nicknames for people. Just so we’re clear, I’ll have your head if you do. It’s Lo, and nothing else.”

  “Got it,” I say as a small laugh escapes my lips, and the last of my dreaded heat begins to cool like embers after a flame.

  Apparently, I’m not the only one who’s a little touchy about her name.

  “And I guess that brings us to our last condition. The one about me and my deplorable intentions, though I’m not sure why you even have to ask. You see, I’m betting on you, Brave, just like eve
ry other soul in these woods. We all desire the same outcome, even though we don’t all agree on which path you should take to get there. As an Orien who was cast out with her mother at the age of eight, I have a lot of hopes for you. The kind that don’t just change tomorrow, but forever. So when Aras asked for my help, there was no way I would have ever turned him down, because you, Brave, are my ticket out of here. Perhaps one day, you’ll need my help, and in return, you’ll set me free.”

  “I hate to break it to you, Lo,” I sigh, “but if you’re referring to magic and my unseen ability to reverse my father’s curse, then you just may be setting your hopes on the wrong miracle. At this point, I’m lucky not to burn myself, much less use my magic to help another. You saw what happened with Reeve. I can’t control it, and I don’t know if I’ll ever want to.”

  “And just what is it that you want?” she asks, her words turning sharp.

  “To be normal again!” I shout. “To be with my papa and my family in Ashen. For my only worry to be whether I’ve boiled Darcy’s feathers enough for one day. I just want to be me. Is that so much to ask?”

  At first, I’m met with nothing but a deafening silence as her cool eyes turn to slits and her mouth turns down in a terrifying scowl. I’m acutely aware that there is a very real possibility of a dart finding my neck at any moment, and the only defense I have against this insane woman is a frightening fire that I can’t control and don’t want to use. She’s all but killed me by her glare alone by the time she speaks again.

  “It’s too much to ask when you’re the daughter of a Theron noble and an Orien king. You may think you don’t want this magic, but one day, you’ll wake up and see it for what it really is. A gift. And on that day, you’ll know the pleasure of helping not just a kingdom, but also our world. You will set us all free, one by one. And then maybe, just maybe, you can have your normal once more.”

  Staring back for as long as I dare, I finally break her gaze, hating the way her words cause a rush of guilt to pound within my hurting heart. This woman, whom I know nothing of, already depends on my success as if it’s the very air she breathes, and I don’t know if I’m strong enough to be the person she needs me to be. But sadly, that’s not what scares me the most. No, the one thought that keeps me up at night is that at some point, I have to figure out the person I want to be, because there is not a thing I can do for anyone else if I’m still a ghost to myself.