Of Fire and Stars

by Audrey Coulthurst

  “Mare, wait.” Denna reached up and took my hand. “I have already asked so much of you. But do you think there’s a chance that you might come with me?”

  A spark kindled in my chest, suffusing me with hope. It was the question I’d wanted her to ask since I found her on the side of the road.

  “Give me two days,” I said. “I’ll see you on the sunrise of the third.” My plan had already begun to form.

  “And if you don’t come?”

  “I’ll come,” I said. “But if a runaway horse drags me clear to the sea and I don’t make it—go on without me and know that I’ll find you as soon as I can.” I leaned down from the saddle.

  She kissed me one last time. “I’ll see you in three days,” she said, and walked away.

  The liegemen were understandably surprised to see me.

  “Your Highness!” the first rider exclaimed as he drew his huffing mount to a stop. He was out of his saddle in seconds and tying a bandage over the crusting wound on my arm before I could object. In truth, I didn’t have to feign pain or exhaustion. Sitting out in the cold waiting for them, worrying for Denna, had made every injury feel bone deep.

  “Can you tell us what happened here?” the liegeman asked. “We saw it when we were barely out of the city gate. It looked like the stars were falling.”

  “They were,” I said, summarizing events for him as the rest of his group dismounted and sifted through the wreckage. There was uncharacteristic hesitation in their motions, as if they thought the magic had left poison coating the ground. I told him how Denna had saved me and how everything had burned, explaining that she had sacrificed herself for Mynaria and for me.

  “You’re the only one who survived?” the liegeman asked when I finished.

  “Yes,” I said, and allowed myself to think of Nils. The tears came then, and I let them fall for everyone and everything I’d lost. Flicker nudged my shoulder and I leaned into his neck, grateful I had one safe place left to rest.

  The stars above shone peaceful and steady, unchanged in spite of the road looking as though the sky had fallen to earth and smashed everything to pieces. One of the liegemen gave me a leg up when it was time to leave, and I squeezed Flicker forward and left the destruction behind for a second time.

  When we reached the city, the gate guards let us in without question. The barest blush of dawn rose behind us as we walked the streets. No one was there to see us, but for the first time, I wore my status proudly, riding the dark streets of Lyrra barefoot in my tattered dress. We carried proof that the war was over before it could begin, and Mynaria could find a new kind of peace. Flicker’s hooves rang over the cobblestones. Only the bakers were awake, the sweet smell of bread and pastries wafting out between the buildings. The sun broke over the horizon behind us as we rode through the castle gates, casting everything in a fiery glow. A tree in the courtyard had been burned into a skeleton of itself, the bare black branches reaching for the sky like Lord Kriantz’s charred hand.

  Liegemen swarmed us, with Captain Ryka not far behind them, the moment we halted in the entryway of the castle. A stable hand took Flicker’s reins, and the captain helped ease me down from the saddle. There was barely time to change into more substantial clothes and for a healer to see to my arm before they herded me to the center of the castle for an emergency Directorate meeting. But before the Directorate, I had to face my brother.

  When I entered the directors’ room, he waited for me, standing, his crown on the table before him.

  We regarded each other from opposite ends of the long table, each waiting for the other to speak. My chest felt crushed beneath the weight of fatigue and grief, and I wished I’d had the thought to beg a stimulating tea from the healers to get me through the last sunlengths before I could rest.

  Thandi finally broke the silence, his voice weary.

  “I’m sorry I doubted you,” he said. His shoulders slumped.

  “Be sorrier that you doubted her,” I replied.

  “She had an Affinity,” he said. “She hid it from me. She freed the Recusants. She could have been responsible for all of it from the start.”

  “What she had was care for the kingdom. She set the Recusants free because they’re part of what keeps our kingdom in balance. She destroyed Lord Kriantz not only to save me, but to stop the war. To save our people,” I told him.

  He nodded. “I don’t understand the magic, but I see the truth in that now.”

  “Then maybe it’s time to learn. To try to understand the magic users before we treat them like criminals.”

  Another pause hung between us.

  “This is my fault,” he said, leaning heavily on the table.

  “You couldn’t have known about the power of Denna’s gift or the depth of Lord Kriantz’s deception,” I told him. “You would have to be a god, not a king, to see all of that.”

  “Yet I’ve still failed us both,” he said. “Tell me what I can do to help things be right again. You’re the only family I have left.”

  The time had come to make my move.

  “We need to send someone to Zumorda in case Lord Kriantz’s people decide to act without him,” I said. “The queen deserves a warning, and it could be an opportunity to start a dialogue about an alliance. I’d like to go.”

  “But Mare—”

  “It makes perfect sense,” I said. “Sending a member of the royal family shows trust. Sending me alone shows respect for their dislike of political overtures. Director Hilara has made their customs clear to us a thousand times. I’m not asking you to let me be an ambassador. We both know I’m ill suited to that. I’ll only start the conversation, and we’ll build something from there. Together.”

  Across from me, he looked tired, uncertain, and so young.

  “Please. There is nothing left for me here,” I said.

  “All right,” he conceded.

  We both rounded the table and met in the middle, face-to-face.

  “Thank you,” I said. “And I’m sorry for all this loss.”

  “As am I.”

  My heart swelled with sadness.

  We clasped arms and stood there a moment, eyes downcast.

  We took our news to the rest of the assembly—the Directorate and some of the highest-ranking ambassadors. Denna’s mother stood among them, her face ashen as the captain relayed the report about the loss of Lord Kriantz and his men. News that I was to ride to Zumorda was met with shock and disbelief, but no one had any grounds to object after the revelation of Lord Kriantz’s betrayal and its implications for Mynaria. Only Hilara offered an approving nod, and assurances that she knew who to ask about the mysterious power of Kriantz’s ring.

  When the Directorate dispersed and I finally staggered out of the room toward bed, Denna’s mother stopped me in the hallway a few paces outside the door.

  “Did you see her die?” she asked.

  I shook my head, wishing I could tell her the whole truth, not wanting to see the grief and hope warring in her eyes. But I could at least tell her one thing.

  “She wanted me to let you know that she forgives you,” I said.

  The queen took a ragged breath and blinked back tears. But before I could offer my false condolences, she spoke.

  “Take care of her,” she said.

  I placed my hand over my heart. That was one thing I knew I could do.

  FORTY-FIVE

  Dennaleia

  ON THE THIRD MORNING AFTER MARE’S DEPARTURE, I rose before dawn with little trouble after having spent most of the previous two days sleeping. The aftereffects of my magic use had taken a heavy toll. My forearms and hands had numb places that wouldn’t warm or regain feeling no matter how long I sat in front of the fire.

  Sleeping the days away had also been a useful way to avoid the curiosity seekers who descended on the inn. The blast site had become an overnight attraction, many reporting having seen it from improbable distances. Some said the star fall was an act of the Six. Others thought it was an omen of the e
nd times. Only I knew the truth—that all that death had been an act of love. Perhaps when I tamed my gift, I would be able to make peace with the trade.

  The stars had barely begun to fade by the time I stepped out of the inn, the little pack I’d purchased stuffed to the brim with my few belongings and as much food as would keep for a few days on the road. A sausage pastry hot from the oven served as my breakfast, rich with spices and melted cheese, sending up curls of steam into the morning air. From the hitching rail I had a clear view of the road to Lyrra, and I watched it as though the intensity of my desire might bring Mare to me. I hoped she hadn’t changed her mind. Though I had spent the waking parts of the past two days convincing myself I could manage alone, it wasn’t what I wanted.

  As the sun splashed orange over the horizon and the frost that edged the fallen leaves began to melt, hoofbeats sounded in the distance. My heart soared in anticipation. Even the deadened places in my arms felt suffused with life as Flicker cantered into view around the bend in the road, his white stocking unmistakable even from a distance. Mare grinned when she saw me, and I thought my heart would burst with joy. Even my Affinity answered her, a small tingle of magic zipping through my palms for the first time since the night I had brought down the stars.

  She leaped from the saddle and we fell into each other’s arms. It wasn’t until she pulled back that I could see the raw flesh around her wrists and the exhaustion evident in the shadows under her eyes. I touched her cheek, overcome with regret that I hadn’t been able to get to her sooner, and that I hadn’t saved her best friend. So many mistakes had been made, and lives had been lost.

  Next time I would do better.

  Next time I would follow my heart from the beginning.

  “You came,” I said, at a loss for better words.

  “Of course I did,” she replied. “You came for me first.” She said it so simply, as if there had been no other choice.

  She leaned forward and kissed me with a shyness I had rarely witnessed in her. A strange, wild feeling lit within me as her lips parted, warm as the morning sun. With her close, I would be all right.

  “It’s time to make our own life,” I said.

  “Yes, I think it is.” Mare mounted Flicker and used her good arm to help me up.

  Climbing into the saddle hurt a little, but I didn’t care. She was there, and she was pressed against me, and she was everything. The future stretched out before us as rocky and uncertain as the open road, but filled with possibility.

  Mare urged Flicker into a canter, and he responded eagerly, his long strides eating up the ground as we headed east.

  For the first time in my life, I finally felt free—because some things are more important than a crown.

  Saving a kingdom.

  Knowing your heart.

  Or riding into the sunrise with a girl on a red horse.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  Another several-hundred-page book could easily be filled with grateful words for all those who encouraged, helped, and guided me along the journey to publication. There are too many of you to name, and I’m thankful to every person who saw me as a writer long before I accepted it as part of myself.

  Firstly, huge thanks are owed to my fabulous agent, Alexandra Machinist, who saw promise in this story and helped me shape it into something much greater than I could have managed on my own—then sold it in what felt like the blink of an eye. You are the kind of dedicated and passionate advocate every writer should be so lucky as to have on her side. Thanks also to outstanding assistants Laura Regan and Hillary Jacobsen, who coordinated all manner of calls and paperwork with speed and grace.

  Kristin Rens, having you as the editor for my debut novel was a blessing beyond compare. Your kindness, thoughtfulness, and thoroughness carried through every part of the publication process. Thank you for loving Denna and Mare, for always asking for my opinion, and for making time to answer my questions, large and small. Many thanks to Kelsey Murphy, Michelle Taormina and Alison Donalty, Renée Cafiero, and Caroline Sun and Nellie Kurtzman and their teams, who also had a hand in bringing this book to life. From the moment I signed with Balzer + Bray, I had the support and encouragement of an incredible team. Thanks also to the brilliant and creative minds of Epic Reads—you’re part of the reason I was excited to sign with a HarperCollins imprint, and I’m so happy that I did.

  Long before I had any ambition or faith that I could become a published writer, my friends in the Austin Java Writing Company believed in me. Ivy Crawford, thank you for reminding me that I don’t suck even when I feel like I do. You are one of the fiercest people I know, and you’ll always be my one and only fix-it dyke. Enrique Gomez, you are the best big brother. Thank you for always having time to offer a word of support or encouragement. Your generosity never fails to humble me. Rebecca Leach, thank you for your excellent company at many a YA book festival, not to mention your help with copywriting and copyediting concerns of all sorts and lending me your dazzling swag design skills. Deanna Roy, your ruthless red (and green and blue) pen made sure that only the important words stayed in this book, and I will never again write lengthy passages of dialogue without remembering to “cut like the words were uttered by Sarah Palin.” You are one of the strongest people and most steadfast friends a person could have, and I look forward to immolating many more napkins with you. Lane Boyd, Emily Bristow, Matteson Claus, Delia Davila, Kurt Korfmacher, Chris McCraw, Lori Thomas, and Zabe Truesdell—thank you for your friendship and for our many nights of laughter and cheap wine. All of you touched my writing journey in some way.

  My critique partners have repeatedly saved my sanity and are among the most exceptional writers I know. Ben Chiles, thank you for naming Casmiel. Thank you also for reading, cheering me on under any and all circumstances, regularly making me convulse with laughter, and most of all for teaching me the concept of friend (and robot) love.

  Helen Wiley, if not for you, I’d still be flailing and melting down in a plot tangle somewhere and hoping to find the answers to my problems somewhere between tears and whiskey. Your endless patience, generous help, and incredible ability to see all the pieces of a story will always stagger me.

  Paula Garner, words will always fall short of describing everything you are to me. No person could have been a better companion on my journey to publication, and I am grateful every day for your kindness, admiration, and devotion as we’ve walked this path together HHH in THH. Our elaborate bribery system, your castigation when I’m being a CSWH, your charming TVN, and your inimitable teakettle are things I never knew I always needed. Your honesty, trust, and love are the most incomparable and priceless gifts. Since we met, you have been my support, my voice of reason, my comfort, my ass kicker, my coauthor, and my compass. I would never have been able to navigate the past few years without your friendship. You’re a keeper, Shy.

  I would be remiss not to mention Malinda Lo, who went from admired author to mentor to friend. Your enthusiasm for this book in the early days meant a great deal to me, and your feedback made it so much stronger. Thank you also to my cohort at the 2013 Lambda Literary Foundation Writers Retreat for Emerging LGBTQ Voices. That week showed me what a privilege it is to have a group of understanding readers discuss one’s work (and the lasting and sensational impact of a rubber unicorn mask).

  The beta readers, editors, and cheerleaders who read for me or promoted my book during the early part of this adventure made all the difference. Thank you, Dahlia Adler, Kat Bishop, Elizabeth Briggs, Jaye Robin Brown, Ginny Campen, Sylvia Cottrell, Emily Gottesfeld, Kelly Marshall, Aunt Duffy, Marieke Nijkamp, Emma Osborne, Lindsay Smith, Rachel Tobie, and Elisha Walker for your various contributions along the way.

  Thanks to the Class of 2k16 and the Sweet Sixteens for being the kind of wonderful and supportive communities every debut author should be so fortunate as to have.

  Thank you, Mom and Dad, for fostering my independence, supporting my writing and other creative endeavors, and letting me grow up on horseb
ack. Horses helped me become a better person, and so did you.

  And finally, a great debt of gratitude is owed to my wife, Casi Clarkson, who was there from the first draft of this book to the last. You made this book possible. Thank you for the writing den, feeding me, date nights, giving me space and time when I needed it, plot-solving dog walks, and most of all, your love.

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  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Photo credit Evrim Icoz Photography

  AUDREY COULTHURST writes YA books that tend to involve magic, horses, and kissing the wrong people. When she’s not dreaming up new stories, she can usually be found painting, singing, or on the back of a horse. Audrey has a master’s degree in writing from Portland State University. She lives in Santa Monica, California. Of Fire and Stars is her debut novel. She can be found online at www.audreycoulthurst.com.

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  CREDITS

  Cover art © 2016 by JACOB EISINGER

  Cover design by MICHELLE TAORMINA

  COPYRIGHT

  Balzer + Bray is an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers.

  OF FIRE AND STARS. Copyright © 2016 by Audrey Coulthurst. Map copyright © 2016 by Jordan Saia. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.