Look to the Stars (The Orien Trilogy Book 1)

by Catherine Wilson

  “I’m sorry if you’re disappointed, but I grew tired of waiting in the little room at the top of the tallest tower. Alas, my princess never came to rescue me.” He sighs, which I think is more to cover up his laughter than anything else. “So I decided I must come to her. I moved out over a year ago, and luckily, you’ll be the first to see it.”

  I raise my head, giving him my best eye roll for the princess speech, and turn in the saddle to face the front once more. “I don’t know if I believe in luck, Aras, but if you have a tub and some source to heat water, then I do believe you’ve been sent straight from the stars above. Lead the way.”

  Aras prods our poor horse once more, whispering words of encouragement that make it sound like our journey isn’t much longer. His whole demeanor has changed now that Bates is out of the picture, and though I want to find his good humor catching, I can’t help the distracted smiles and belated laughs I turn his way.

  For there is just one thing that Bates said about Aras before he left, and though I try to block it out, the word repeats in my mind with every blink.

  Promise.

  And for some reason, I can’t shake the feeling that I’ve heard that very word before.

  Fifty-One

  By the time the small path to Aras’ home comes into view, I can’t help but think I’ve been duped right along with our horse. As it turns out, Aras’ home was not right around the tree as he’d have us believe, but half a day’s journey through thinning woods and rolling landscape. Though we took many breaks and rested along the never-ending ride, I’m afraid our poor horse is going to run away in the night.

  I’m inclined to beg to let me go with her.

  Behind me, Aras’ arms clench around my waist in what I assume is barely contained excitement, all but cracking my stiff back in his glee. If I’m able to walk again after this, I’ll be pleasantly surprised.

  “We’re here,” he whispers before nudging his lips to my ear.

  “Would you stop that?” I fuss, swatting him away and wishing I could fight the terrible smile on my face.

  Aras lets out a deep chuckle before resting his chin on my head, apparently happy to see that this evil ride had broken more than just my body; it had also broken my sanity. Ahead of us, the remaining trees fall away, leaving nothing but pure sunshine coating a field of long, green grass and flowers of every hue. A small, but perfectly crafted wooden house sits at the far end of the way, nestled in a background of white, flowered trees that border the field. My eyes gape, taking in the inviting front porch with a wide swing that overlooks a massive pond situated right in the middle of the soft grass.

  “Aras,” I breathe, catching his hands as he pulls us to a stop. “It’s beautiful!”

  Without saying a word, he simply slips to the ground beside me, looking up with a proud grin as he wraps his hands around my waist and begins to lift me down. This time, I have no qualms about accepting his help, and I fall almost too readily into his awaiting arms. Instead of letting me down like I expect, he pauses, cradling me as my hand absently strums the tempting curls at his neck.

  Like a rare gift from above, his face relaxes with contentment, and his bright eyes sing of something I’ve yet to see. Something anew. When I first began this journey with Aras, I used to think that I didn’t know a thing about him. That he was nothing but a confusing creature, truly set on riling me up. But somewhere along the way, things changed. We changed, and I realized that I was wrong.

  It wasn’t that I didn’t know a thing about him; it was that somehow, I already knew him all too well.

  Below me, Aras’ arms shift, bringing me closer to his chest, and my fingers still along his neck. Like so long ago, my stormy green meets his cloudless blue, and for the first time since I’ve met him, I think he may be serious. And bless it, I think I might be scared.

  “Do you think me unfit to walk, Aras, or do you just fancy carrying me the whole way?” My words leak out in a jumbled mess, and I come off looking not near as cool and collected as I mean to be.

  Aras shakes his head with a laugh, and his teeth skim across his bottom lip as he looks away and up the rolling grass to his home. Without warning, my legs drop out from underneath me, and I swing to the ground with nothing but my wrapped arm to hold me up.

  “Oh, I think you unfit for many things, Bravest, but we haven’t the time to discuss those atrocious traits now.” His wild smile gleams in the welcoming light from above, and just like that, I prove myself right.

  I do know him too well. Too well for my own good.

  “I’d feel inclined to be offended, Aras, if I thought you were actually being serious. Though Ashen knows there’s never many of those moments with you.”

  “Come on,” he says, ignoring my comment, while pulling my arm from around his neck and grabbing hold of my wrist. “I haven’t been inside for ages, but I’m sure you’ll find it a step up from that lovely cave.”

  “Ah, but better than the dark treehouse? I think not,” I quip, snatching my pack from the saddle and stumbling along after him through the tall grass that swishes softly against our knees.

  Aras’ pace quickens with every step, and I can practically feel the excitement coursing through his limbs. It’s a current of joy I open myself up to, letting it seep in my veins and pump through my heart. By the time we round the four steps up to his open porch, our chests heave with effort and our smiles outshine the sun.

  Aras lets go of my wrist, fiddling with a loose board along the porch and producing a well-hidden key. As he sets to unlatching the wide front door, my eyes roam, slowly taking in every inch of the space before me. The porch, while a little narrow, spans the whole front of the house, picking up every view of the breathtaking field below, and I can’t help but think that when Aras is home, this is where he spends most of his time. Up close, the rough exterior of the wood gives the house a very unfinished, thrown-together look, though the wide windows situated across the front tell of fine craftsmanship and time well spent.

  If there ever were a house to describe Aras, this would be it.

  “It took me years to build,” he calls over his shoulder as the door finally breaks free. “I don’t have many people who I would consider close friends in Orien, but those that I do have poured their hard-earned frustrations into this place. I was eighteen when we started.”

  He throws his head to the side, clearing his messy brow and beckoning me forward. “The land was a gift from your mother for my birthday. I think she sensed I needed a place to call my own, and the city is just a short walk through those trees,” he says, pointing to the north of the field.

  I suppress a shudder, following his finger with caution as if my new father were waiting there, preparing to reach out and strangle our throats. I’m glad we’re close, but I’m also worried for what that means for me. And now, for some ridiculously girly reason, us.

  Aras’ eyes roam me over in that careful way of his, taking in my stance and the look of guarded unease stretched across my pinched features. Without a word, he moves from the door his boots tapping softly against the boards as he makes his way to my side. He places a warm arm across my shoulders, and we stare out into the open space before us.

  When he finally speaks, he makes no move to soothe my fears. He doesn’t say that I’ll make it through this time with my father. He doesn’t say that everything will be all right. He simply offers me the only thing we have—the only thing that we can control. And though it hurts to know that he doesn’t hold any false hopes about the future, what he does say is perhaps the only thing that I ever really needed to hear.

  “Don’t let what may happen tomorrow ruin today,” Aras whispers as I lean to rest my head against his chest. “Can you promise me that, Bravest? Can you live for now? Can you live for me?”

  I tip my head up, smiling as I take in his scruffy chin and decidedly ruffled hair. “I think I can promise to live for us, Aras, but only if you promise to heat some water first.”

  His dimple flashe
s with a mischievous grin, and he bends down, taking a dramatic sniff of my snarled hair. A strangled cry leaves his mouth, and he holds me out with his arms as if he can’t get away fast enough.

  “Oh, Bravest,” he says, “I thought you’d never ask.”

  ↄ

  By the time I’m washed and pruned with the achingly warm waters that Aras so graciously tugged and heated pots upon pots to provide, the sun has already begun to make its long descent into the distant trees that mark the edge of our little field. Clean and freshly dressed in my gray sparing outfit once more, I can’t help but feel new. Alive. Though Aras dashed those efforts when he informed me that after I arrive in the city, I’ll have to start looking the part of an Orien princess. I haven’t had the guts to ask exactly what looking the part entails, and though I don’t mention it to Aras, I plan to refuse to wear anything but pants.

  “Finally!” Aras grumps, looking up from his small kitchen as he cuts what looks to be cooked rabbit and tosses it onto a plate.

  His clean-shaven cheeks do nothing to hide the handsome lines of his face, and before he can mention my admiring stare, my eyes flick away to examine the room. The rays of the setting sun have diminished quite a bit, and though some light still shines through the windows, most of it comes from the lit lanterns situated throughout the open room. Aras’ humble home is what he would call small and I would call cozy. What little furniture he has is mismatched and aged, though I get the distinct feeling that there is a purpose in their unity. A long, wooden bench separates the small dining table from the sitting room, and a single chair with a comfy red cushion and sturdy arms sits at the perfect angle beside the rocked fireplace. At the back corner, beside the enclosed washroom, awaits a single bed with impressively made white sheets. A small wooden nightstand keeps it company, along with another lantern to bring light to the space.

  It’s the home I always imagined from my balcony in Ashen.

  Aras eyes my short walk across the inviting space, and I click my tongue, daring him to mention how long it took me to clean up yet again. Granted, my soak was a long one, but it was a deserved one, too. Especially if it’s the last one I’m going to get as a free woman.

  “You better be glad you came out when you did. I was getting ready to blindfold myself and come to rescue your soaking hide. I’ve grown up with a lot of important people, Bravest, but I’ve never met anyone who takes a bath as long as you.”

  “You’re just sour because I wasn’t here to help you cook,” I say, plopping my elbows down on the counter as I come to a stop at his side.

  He laughs, and the sound of it echoes through the high, wooden ceiling. “Yes, I am, quite honestly, although I was also just looking forward to the company.”

  His eyes dart up to meet mine, and I press my lips, biting back a laugh of my own. “However,” he continues, turning to rest his hip on the counter and take me in. “I must say that perhaps my hours of strife and tortuous wait were worth it in the end.”

  This time I do laugh, trying my best to mask the flutter that his words bring. Aras reaches out, taking a long strand of my wet hair between his fingers, before gently releasing it to fall back around my face. We stare at each other for a moment, taking in the sudden thickness of the air. Taking in the realization that maybe everything between us isn’t a joke.

  Maybe this is real.

  “Anyway…” He sighs, turning back to his work and breaking the spell. “When we finish eating, I’m going to make good on my promise to help you bind that mess.” His mouth quirks with a covered smile as he dips his head to hide the faint rosy hue that now colors his cheeks. “I do have to admit, I could get used to it down.”

  His sudden embarrassment tilts my little world out of balance, leaving me wondering when he became the one avoiding blushes and not the other way around.

  “And just where did you gain this expertise?” I stumble. “My father?”

  “No.” He smiles, daring to look up once more. “Your sister—and she’s a bossy little thing, too.”

  Fifty-Two

  I know without a doubt that the stars I look on tonight are the very same ones I watched for all those years from my favorite garden spot, but there’s just something different about this moment. The stars still build their pictures and whisper promises of a future unknown, but it doesn’t feel the same. Not now. Not when he’s with me.

  I sit on the thin blanket we took from the house with my legs pulled up to my chest and my chin resting comfortably on my knees, staring up into what seems to be the never-ending night sky. Beside me, Aras leans back on his propped arms, his legs sprawling out in a lazy mess before him. Every now and then when I let myself breathe too deep, I feel the soft touch of his arm along my back, and my heart threatens to beat out of my chest.

  It reminds me of another night when we looked at these same stars from a very different view. I remember the consuming heat his presence brought, and how more than anything, I wanted to get away to put it out. But now, as the soft wind swishes through the tall grass and the moon reflects off the quiet pond, I can’t help but feel that everything’s changed.

  I can’t help but want him near.

  As if the awful boy can hear my thoughts, he turns his head, playfully nudging me with his shoulder and all but pushing me on my side. I bump him back with a nudge of my own, and his quiet smile turns wide.

  “Your hair looks ravishing, you know. Just in case you didn’t hear me the first time.”

  And I did. As well as the following ten times after that. Although I don’t have a mirror, I do have to admit that the feel of Aras’ braid is surprisingly light, yet sturdy. Unlike the one-sided braid that I usually wear, this one leaves my strands loose at the top, and the actual braid doesn’t begin until the base of my neck. Wrapping down across my shoulder, it’s exactly the kind of a braid a girl like me needs. To be honest, I’m a little irritated that he didn’t offer his services earlier, though I suppose that might have led to questions, and questions might have led to answers. Goodness forbid that we do that.

  “I know, Aras,” I say, twisting the end of the braid between my fingers. “Once again, you surprise me with your superior skill and technique. I’m sure you have all the women in Orien lining up just to feel your fingers running through their hair.”

  Aras snorts, latching onto my shoulder with his hand and giving a tender squeeze. “Vivi is the only other girl who has had that privilege, and most of the time, she’s whining that I’m pulling her tangles too hard. Of course, I always argue that it wouldn’t hurt so badly if she actually cared to brush it now and again.”

  He flashes a rueful smile, and I look back up to the stars, relishing the tender way in which he says my sister’s name. Vivi, as I came to learn over dinner, is his affectionate nickname for Viviana. I must say that I like the sound of it, and from what I’ve gathered, she seems like a feisty, surefooted girl who needs a quick name to keep up with her. It didn’t take me long to understand that Vivi is the mysterious girl who Reeve so enjoyed referring to. It was for her that Aras slipped away to deliver a message when I was stuck at camp with Reeve. Apparently, she wanted to know everything that Aras had learned about her mythical sister from another land, including how I was coming along with my magic. Now I’m mostly worried I’ll disappoint her.

  “She’s just like you, you know,” he says, stilling his hand upon my shoulder and scooting himself closer to my side. “When I imagined what you’d look like, I always pictured you with those same green eyes and wild, dark hair. Creamy skin. Copies of your mother, that’s what you two are.”

  I shrug, not quite knowing how to respond to the assertion that I’m just like the mother and sister who I’ve never met. It all feels too surreal—too farfetched—for it to be true.

  “I mean it,” he continues, catching notice of my silent denial. “The same adventurous spirit. The same desire to do good, even when it may not be what’s best for you. It’s in your blood, Bravest, and yet, there’s still something
different about you.”

  “That I can shoot fire from my veins?” I guess with a laugh, trying to ignore the way his words twist my insides in the funniest of ways.

  “No.” He smiles, tipping his head up to the sky. Once again, the low light from the stars casts a beautiful glow across his smooth skin, and I force my eyes to look away before his very being can suck me in. “I mean, you are magical, yes, but not because of the fire. It’s your real light that shines from within, brightening even my darkest days with the simplest of smiles. I live for your smiles, Bravest. For your light.”

  For a moment, everything stops. Our breaths hold. Our hearts pause. Even the light wind settles along the grass. And if it weren’t for the faintly moving lights above, I’d think that the whole world ceased to move under our very feet.

  “I know our paths have been different, Bravest. I know you’ve always lived in a world where I didn’t exist, but you’ve always existed for me.” He pauses, turning his gaze upon my frozen lips and running a soft hand down my perfect braid. Slowly, he dips his head until we’re cheek to cheek, whispering only the softest of words into my ear. “I could look upon every star in the sky, but they’d all just lead me back to you.”

  And now, even those very stars skid to a stop.

  Ashen, help me. I think this is it. I think this might be the moment. The one when he drops his silly guard, finally revealing who he truly is. The Aras who risks his life to save those he loves. The one who cares for a little princess as his sister and gives up his life to drag an older, more stubborn one through the woods.

  My heart releases its beat. Slowly, the drained color returns to my cheeks. My mouth opens, and then closes with a start, struggling to form something in response, while my mind scrambles to hold onto his words, locking them away and storing them in a place that never forgets. For I want to hold tight to this night. I want to remember the way his lashes blink softly against my cheek. The feel of his smile teasing my ear. The rising tingles on my neck.