Look to the Stars (The Orien Trilogy Book 1)

by Catherine Wilson

  My head bucks back, as if reeling from a slap, but Ian’s strong hands hold me firmly in place, forcing me to listen. “I didn’t care though. I simply shook the news off and went on my way. And do you know why, Penelope?” he asks, searching my soul with his bright green eyes. “It’s because he doesn’t deserve you. He never has, and he never will.”

  Instantly, I recoil from his touch, my head shaking in automatic denial of the words that cannot be true. At the time of my mother’s arrival, Aras and I hadn’t even met. How could she speak of Aras’ intentions when he lived an entire territory away? She couldn’t have possibly known what he would do next. Not unless he told her first, and revealing secret truths aren’t exactly in Aras’ nature.

  “You lie! My mother would never question Aras or his intentions. She loves him as if he were her son! And as for being after my heart,” I say, pushing to my feet, “you don’t know of what you speak. Aras has only ever tried to help me, not love me. And if he did, it is I who doesn’t deserve his love, not the other way around.”

  I don’t realize that I’m shouting until Ian rises to grab my trembling hands and holds them to his chest. A tight smile crosses his lips, and there’s a sadness in his eyes that I’ve yet to see.

  “You said you needed to hear something mean, and I spoke of the only thing that came to mind. I didn’t realize I’d chosen a sore spot.”

  “It’s not a sore spot!” I snap, knowing good and well that my tone alone betrays my words. “And besides, I said mean, not irritating. It isn’t always wise to speak of things you know nothing of.”

  “I know more than you give me credit for, Penelope. I know that Aras has built his relationship with you upon secret after secret. I know that he hides his lies so well that even someone as full of wit as you can’t see them.” He stops, rubbing a soft hand down my wild, loose curls, causing my pulse to race from within. “I know that whether he’s intended to or not, he’s hurt you, and as your friend, I’d rather not see it happen again.”

  His admission startles me, and I find myself lost in the sincerity of his words and the kindness of his eyes. He is right. Aras has kept secrets from me, and they’ve hurt. But he’s also told me things as well. I can’t help but hope that if we had more time together, his past would come to light, and his true intentions would be known. But perhaps what hurts the most is the one secret that deep down, I know is my fault.

  I was born. Because of that, his parents no longer live, and his second mother was nearly burned alive.

  Ian is right. I don’t know the real Aras or his true intentions, but it doesn’t change the fact that I want to. Need to.

  “You’re right, Ian.” I sigh, backing away and letting his hand fall from my tangled hair. “Aras has kept many secrets, but that doesn’t mean I won’t stop trying to earn his trust. He hasn’t led me astray so far, and I have to believe that his intentions are true. I understand now that he cares for my sister as his own, and perhaps that’s why he needed me to go to Orien all along,” I say, hoping that I’m only partially right, and he wanted me in Orien because somewhere along the way, he started caring for me, as well. “I guess I won’t know until I get there, but I think we both know I’ve already chosen my path.”

  “And I hope you know that I’ll always help you, no matter what it means for my own heart.”

  Sadness wells in my chest. I nod my head, hoping he can’t see the mist in my eyes as they start to fill. “I know, Ian, and no matter what happens, I don’t deserve to call you my friend, but I’m so very thankful that I do.”

  Hesitantly, he steps forward, a warm hand outstretched in the dying light. Friendship, it means, and at the heart of it, hope. And though I know that we both hope for two very different things, I reach out and take his hand within my own, thanking the stars for this boy who I don’t deserve to have by my side.

  “I’ll always treasure our friendship, Penelope,” he says, his voice as warm and rich as the orange flames of our fire.

  I open my mouth, fully intending on saying the same, when the first of the whispers hit my ear like a sudden wind on a stormy summer’s night. I stagger back, and Ian’s strong arms wrap around my side, holding me up as my papa’s desperate words struggle to take hold of the magic I’ve still yet to fully recover.

  Deep breaths escape my lungs, and I lower myself to my knees as his shiny, black coat breaks through the surrounding trees and the first of his words pierce my ears.

  “Aras is here, my Brave, and he isn’t alone.”

  Forty-Eight

  Not alone.

  It’s even worse than Lo feared, and for once, I’m glad she’s gone.

  Papa’s tail swishes about in angry flicks as he prowls into camp, and though I can feel the whispers pushing at my ears, they no longer have form. They no longer make sense. The magic is fading again, slipping through my fingers as I struggle to take hold.

  “Please,” I whisper, falling to my knees before him as he comes to a rest by my side. “Try again. I know I can make it work. Does he know that I’m fine? That there isn’t a single reason to be upset?”

  Papa’s blue eyes flick to Ian as he crouches down beside us, placing a warm hand on my shoulder as if his reassurance alone could stop the trembles from within. Ian’s head gives a subtle shake, and just like that, any chance I had at finding answers is gone.

  “No!” I cry out, grabbing my panther by his silken fur and turning his head toward me. “Don’t listen to him. I can take it! I swear it!”

  Papa lets out a low growl, the power of it fueling vibrations through my chest. Slowly, I bow my head before him until my forehead rests upon his own. His hot breaths come out in even puffs along my neck, and he nudges me with his nose, finally giving in to my frantic request.

  This time when the whispers come, they burn, as if lighting a fire from the inside out. My stomach churns with unease, and I let go of his fur, falling back into Ian’s ready arms. Ian looks to me, cradling my spinning head as if he’s just taken hold of a crazed angel who holds all the answers to his prayers. Dark spots threaten to fill my vision, but I close my eyes tight, not willing to let them take me just yet. Placing my arms around Ian’s neck, I carefully pull myself up to sit on the dirt floor, focusing solely on the only words that I managed to understand.

  “Choice,” I heave, letting go of Ian and propping my hands on my dirtied knees.

  When I finally open my eyes, the world greets me with a pleasant stillness. The two beings left before me stare as if I’m the animal who talks and not the other way around. Determined not to let them think me weaker than I already am, I stand, waving off Ian’s helpful arms.

  “Papa said that it wasn’t his choice. Whoever comes with Aras isn’t happy with the current,” I pause, debating my muddled words, “situation, as it were. Lo was afraid that despite Aras’ wishes, word of my recent adventures may have gotten out. Now it seems someone else has been sent to clear up any confusion.”

  Ian stares blankly in my direction, and I place my hands on my hips, daring him to prove me wrong. “And by confusion, I do mean you.”

  Ian’s lips twitch with a slight smirk and for the first time since we met, a wave of arrogance lights up his face. “And this should be concerning to us because why?” he asks, pulling a curved blade from the back of his linen trousers and twisting it about like a hulking hero from one of Darcy’s adventure tales.

  Delightful. Of all the times for him to act like some sort of warrior prince, it would be now, when he’s about to come face to face with my irate Orien guard and one of Knox’s famous killers.

  Ian takes my silence for awe and produces a proud grin, causing my papa to growl like the cat that he is. In response, I simply wrinkle my nose and wonder how in Ashen that poor boy kept such a blade in the back of his pants.

  “You see,” Ian says, motioning with his sword as Papa snaps his brilliant white teeth. “I don’t speak panther, but I think he agrees.”

  Papa’s growl turns into a haunting s
cream, and I rush toward Ian, grabbing his free wrist with my hand and begging him to get back to his true, serious nature. “Listen, Ian,” I plead. “I’m glad to see that you still have a wonderful sense of humor, but now is not the time to display such arts. Perhaps later, when you’re safely tucked away at home and I’ve come for a nice visit. Then I would be more than happy to listen to your silly jokes, but not now. Not when you need to be running.”

  Ian’s eyes flash with the barest of hopes, and his face lowers dangerously closer to my own. “So, you say you will come for a visit then, Penelope?”

  Shocked, I open my mouth to speak, but the slick words that sound through our camp are definitely not my own.

  “Well, would you believe our luck? And here we thought we were only here to capture one reckless fool, not two.”

  Without warning, Ian’s arm snakes around my shoulders, and I’m pushed behind his back. The metal of his blade shines silver in the glowing fire light, and my eyes flash across the camp in hopes of finally setting sights on the boy, who against all reason, has become my one true anchor in this frightening world.

  My handsome prince.

  Instead, my singing heart quails as I’m met with the unnerving sight of Bates as he strides through the trees with a long sword swinging at his hip. The newly grown mustache speaks of how long it has been since we’ve seen each other last, but I recognize the same finely spun tunic and pants that he wore when we first met in my papa’s home, making him look like a white specter on a haunted night.

  Anger, and a touch of embarrassment, tilt my chin in defiance. Of course he could walk through these woods dressed purely in white and still end up looking a thousand times better than me in my faded, soiled tunic and fraying pants. Now, more than anything, I regret that I didn’t change.

  Well, and also that I didn’t force Ian to leave sooner.

  “Come now, Penelope Brave. You know we’re only here to take you home. There’s nothing to be afraid of dear, unless, of course, you give us reason to cause harm.”

  His gray eyes dance with amusement, and a catlike smile mars his face. Papa lets out another chilling scream, backing up until he stands between Ian and the cruel man before us. For the first time, a look of true concern crosses his mocking facade.

  “Aras!” Bates calls, and my head snaps up just as another person slowly breaks through the trees.

  My heart ceases to beat.

  Covered in rich black from head to toe, my olive-skinned guard slips into the circle of our camp with the same ease of a trained assassin. His taut forearms and straight shoulders hold tight to his familiar bow, a sharp arrow notched into place. His raven curls seem to have grown even longer, and they twist wildly across his brows in the heat. Where the base of his neck meets his low-collared tunic, the arrant strands I’ve always loved so dear fall in a sloppy mess that makes them look as if they haven’t seen a comb in days. If it weren’t for the liquid fear racing through my veins, I might actually smile right now.

  Once again, our hair seems to be at an even match.

  Taking his focus off Ian, his blue eyes skirt to the side, and I’m met with the most piercing gaze that speaks of a thousand secrets and a thousand more truths. But then he blinks, his grip on the bow tightening, and he resumes his aim on the Theron prince before me. Ian moves to step forward, and my heart restarts.

  “Now wait just a minute,” I shout, hurrying to take a stance in front of Ian before he can do something rash like get himself shot with an arrow. “I’m not sure what the word capture means to you, Bates, but there are no prisoners to conquer here. If by your dramatic entrance you mean to simply escort me to my Orien home and let the Theron prince be on his way, then yes, I think we are both in agreement.”

  My eyes flit back to Aras, hoping to catch some sort of clue as to what this madman intends, but his focus is dead set on Ian, and though I know they’ve never met before, I have the sneakiest feeling that he doesn’t like him. Meanwhile, Ian’s eyes narrow. He stares back with the same look of mistrust and utter disdain.

  Skies above. The feeling’s mutual.

  “Oh, Penelope Brave.” Bates smiles with a grin that is more terrifying than it is comforting. “You do know it is treason to kidnap a princess, yes? First Orien’s queen, and now her missing daughter? My, my, what will our people think when we just cut him loose? Free as a bird to fly back to his home? No, my dear, it simply cannot be.”

  Papa’s teeth sound with a vicious snap and the black hairs on his back rise as if about to take flight. Bates’ hand reaches for his sword, but to my surprise, it’s Aras whose words bring his actions to a halt.

  “Let him be,” he says, keeping his eyes trained on Ian and deliberately away from me. “We came for Reeve and the princess. I highly doubt the king would approve of us igniting a war before we even have our match. Though we will meet again, Prince, I can promise you that.”

  Papa’s growls settle into a low purr, and Bates’ attention clears, as if he knows he almost lost sight of his goal.

  “Oh, yes. Reeve. The swell fellow at the heart of this all. Where is he, exactly? Perhaps we should all have a little chat before we go.”

  I start to speak. To tell them both that I’ve already had my way with Reeve and then some, when Ian’s soft hand rests carefully on my shoulder.

  “Reeve sits surrounded by a wall of flame, of which I am sure is just now beginning to lose its strength.” Ian says, giving my shoulder a light squeeze, causing me to feel the cool wash of pride flowing through his fingers and into my chest. “My men stand on guard, waiting for those very walls to fade, and when they do, you can rest assured that Reeve will meet his fate. For he hasn’t just committed treason against Orien, but against Theron as well. We’ll take it from here. You can believe that.”

  My eyes dart to Aras, hoping to see some sort of emotion cross his face at this news. The news that he should have already guessed the very moment Papa arrived in search of help. Unfortunately, he avoids my gaze altogether, choosing to chew on his bottom lip and stare daggers at Ian. In response, Bates lets out a rough laugh, causing a subtle jump in Aras’ stance. It’s the only movement that makes me think he’s still alive.

  “A wall of fire, you say?” Bates huffs. “Interesting, Prince, interesting indeed. According to Aras here, she couldn’t light a candle with a match, much less create a flame from her being.”

  My eyes widen, and a quick rebuttal forms on my lips, but then Aras’ head moves in the slightest of shakes, and his blue eyes stare into my own with a look I know all too well. He’s hiding the truth for a reason, and though I know there is much he still has to tell, I’ll trust him, just as I always have. Even when it feels as if we’re mountains apart.

  “None of this matters, Bates.” I sigh, turning away to grab my pack that lies waiting in the dirt. “Ian has kept me safe, and now you are here. I see nothing left to do but to move, and move quickly. As you know, I’ve been trying to make it to Orien for weeks now, and if you don’t mind, I’d like to see it before yet another wild thief tries to whisk me away.”

  Bates grunts, probably because my surly attitude alone is an affront to his manly abilities, and places his hands on his hips, clearly remembering that he’s the real boss of this charade. “As you so eloquently stated, Princess, we should be on our way. Even better, I think we’ll make excellent timing if we have use of those fine horses I saw tied at the entrance to your camp.” He pauses, a smug smirk filling up his face as he judges Ian’s reaction. “A fair trade, Prince? Your life for your horse?”

  My fingers tingle with the burn of a heating flame, and for a moment, my vision curses me with not one hideous Bates, but two. “We’re not taking his horses,” I seethe.

  “It’s fine, Penelope,” Ian says softly, placing a careful hand across my back.

  When I start to shake my head, he stills any movement with cool fingers across my chin. “I mean it. It’s going to be hard enough to let you go, but at least let me assure that you ar
rive safe.”

  The camp around us oozes with an uncomfortable cloud, and though Bates gives little hint that he’s even heard Ian’s kind words, Aras, on the other hand, is a different beast altogether. When my eyes slowly creep to his, there’s a fire so deep rooted that I’m afraid my magic has somehow leapt across the camp and consumed him whole.

  I’m also afraid that he might accidently release that arrow.

  “Thank you.” I smile, shying away from his touch and turning to face Bates once more.

  His calculating eyes bore into my own, as if he’s trying to decide if he should tie me up on the ride home or trust me to keep my mouth shut until he can get me within my father’s grips. I decide to make the choice for him.

  “Then it’s settled. We leave on stolen Theron horses, and we bid the prince a hasty farewell.” I turn toward Ian once more, holding out my hand in the most diplomatic gesture that I can muster. “Thank you for your help, Ian. Perhaps we’ll meet again someday.”

  Ian responds with a warm smile. The kind that tingles with a past and new beginnings all at the same time. In response, a low grunt fills the air. “It was my honor, Penelope. And here,” he says, reaching into his boot and pulling out my dagger. “I almost forgot. You dropped this a while back.”

  His rueful smile widens as I take in my most beloved, yet alarmingly forgotten treasure. I’m not sure if I should be more frightened that Ian hid it from me this whole time or that I didn’t even notice its absence. Beside me, Papa’s tail flicks in what I assume is a reprimanding measure. If there was ever a rule about the dagger, it was that I never let it out of my sight.