Page 35 of A Legacy of Stars (The Lost God Legacies)

35

STELLA

S tella stared at the table of refreshments in the royal family tent. The small white linen tent was set up just behind the competitors’ tent and Stella needed the private space to mentally prepare herself.

Bees buzzed around the plate of fresh pink melon, and berries overflowed from bowls, spilling onto the white tablecloth in an array of reds, blues, and purples. The fresh-baked lemon cakes smelled sweet and citrusy, but her stomach was too twisted in knots of anxiety to enjoy any of it with the final challenge looming over her.

She’d left Teddy asleep in the cottage just before dawn. He’d looked so peaceful and she couldn’t bear to wake him, so she’d left like a thief in the faint dawn light and proceeded to spend the entire day chest-clenched, trying not to cry. Mercifully, her family was giving her space.

Stella reached for a lemonade, but the glass was slick with condensation and her hands were trembling so much that it immediately slipped from her grip. A delicate hand snapped up and caught it before it could shatter on the ground.

Stella looked up and met Juliana Savero’s hazel eyes.

“Easy,” the princess said, smiling warmly .

“Doesn’t bode well for the challenge,” Jalen said as he stepped up beside Juliana.

The Savero twins’ movements were an eerie echo, like they always understood where the other would be next.

“Jay, don’t say that,” Juliana chided. She smiled sheepishly at Stella. “Sorry, he’s such a man sometimes. I don’t know why he even bothers to speak when he has nothing intelligent to say.”

Jalen threw an arm around Juliana’s shoulder.

Stella sipped her lemonade. “It’s fine. I’m just a little jumpy.”

Jalen looked around the tent. “Where’s your competition?”

Stella shrugged. “I don’t know. He’ll probably show up any minute to tell me how I should be outfitting myself differently, and that I shouldn’t be having lemonade, and calling me Minyha .”

Juliana froze with her glass halfway to her mouth. “He called you Minyha ?” She locked eyes with Jalen.

The prince burst out laughing.

Stella glared at the twins. “Yes. Do you know what it means?”

Juliana pursed her lips. “Well, yes. It’s just—” She looked away. “It’s just not really a nice nickname.”

Stella huffed a laugh. “Just tell me.”

“It means pain in my ass ,” Jalen said with a grin.

Juliana rolled her eyes and sipped her lemonade. “It does not. It means ‘ one’s greatest trial or test .’”

It was Stella’s turn to laugh. The tension that had been coiled tight in her chest all day finally unraveled. She sounded half-hysterical.

She’d made Minyha out to be some romantic nickname in her head when Teddy was just referring to how she tested him. The laughter shook through her, but when it died, she was left with the empty ache of wishing it had meant something more.

“I suppose that’s an appropriate nickname,” she said.

“You’re both wrong.”

Juliana cursed as they all turned to find Alexandra standing at the tent entrance. She cut an imposing figure, tall and statuesque in her leather armor and gilded by sunlight .

Alexandra sauntered into the tent, snatched a lemon cake off the table, and took a bite. “I expect that kind of idiocy from Jay. He’s been coasting on looks for years. But you’re usually better at languages, Jules, though I suppose you focus more on the contemporaries than the old languages. In modern Novumi it means one’s greatest trial or test, but I don’t think that’s what Teddy means. He’s using the Old Novumi translation.”

Juliana put her hands on her hips. “Well, what does it mean if you’re such a scholar, Alex?”

Stella had been alone with the two princesses of Argaria so infrequently, but those few occasions had left her feeling like she was navigating some strange emotional weather. Sibling dynamics were often complicated, and she supposed being royal only made things more complex, but Juliana and Alexandra had always felt like they vacillated between being best friends one moment and adversaries the next. No one else could say something bad about Juliana, but Alexandra had free rein and vice versa.

Alexandra turned her intense golden eyes on Stella. “There are no direct translations from the old language.” She smiled sadly. “It’s a sacred word of claiming. The closest translation would be ‘ my heart ’ or simply ‘ mine .’”

Stella didn’t realize she’d stopped breathing until her chest started to burn. A sacred word of claiming. My heart . Her magic involuntarily drew up the memories of the moments he’d used the nickname. Mine . They were all linked together in her mind by a little golden thread.

The first time, Teddy had said it in that taunting tone, full of playful exasperation. Surely he meant “my trial” that time.

But later—when he’d said it in the cabin, when he made her come so hard she’d cried. When he’d looked at her with that wild, possessive intensity that she found so intoxicating. When he knew she couldn’t give him the answer he wanted, and still he’d looked at her with so much tenderness.

He’d meant “ Mine ” when he whispered it against her pounding pulse .

Gods . She hadn’t realized she’d said it aloud until Alexandra laughed.

“I’ll say. If there ever was a time to pray, it’s when Teddy is mooning over you.” She made an exaggerated gagging motion.

Stella’s eyes pricked with tears. This was a distraction she did not need. Why not at least tell her what the nickname meant? How could he keep something so monumental private?

She froze, realizing it was because she’d rejected him. He’d called her Stella after she told him she didn’t want him. He’d made the change when she let him know that she was not in fact going to be his.

Her eyes burned, her chest wound so tight she could scarcely breathe.

Alexandra smiled thoughtfully. “Which do you think our dear brother meant, Jules?”

Juliana stared wide-eyed at Stella. “Oh my gods. He’s in love with you.”

Stella shook her head, trying to swallow the lump lodged in her throat. “I don’t think it’s that deep. It’s just this bond. It’s very compelling.”

But the words were more wish than truth. And Stella was more raw wound than warrior. She could not have this now when she needed to be clear-headed and strong. When she needed to be the fighter she’d been when she’d saved Teddy’s life.

Stella needed to be someone who could survive. Someone like her parents.

The revelation changed nothing. It couldn’t. When Stella stepped into the arena, she would need to do whatever it took to win. She needed the bond gone. Surely that was a blessing the gods would grant her. She couldn’t bear to face the torment of knowing Teddy so intimately when she could not have him.

A throat cleared from the tent doorway.

Fionn Silver stepped inside and sauntered over to Stella. “Hey, princess.” Juliana and Alexandra both looked at him for a long moment before realizing he meant Stella. “I need to call in that favor.”

Stella crossed her arms. “If it’s something about throwing this challenge, it’s not going to happen.”

He held his hands up in surrender. “Nothing so serious. Besides, there’s no fun in surrender when you can be an outright victor. I promise it won’t take long. We’ll be back in the arena in no time.”

Alexandra stepped forward, her fingers brushing the blade tucked into the back of her armor. She looked to Stella for approval.

“I appreciate the solidarity, but I’ll be fine, Your Graces.” Stella curtseyed and turned to leave, but not before she saw Fionn wink at Alexandra and the princess answer with an obscene gesture.

The dock air was rotten with low tide, but the pier was quiet and free of its usual hustle and bustle. The percussive sound of boats gently bouncing against the dock bumpers in the rough waves matched the urgent rhythm of Stella’s pounding heart.

Stella leaned against the fence, looking out at the sea. “You need me to do what ?”

“I need you to wipe the harbormaster’s memory.”

“Of everything?”

Fionn laughed. “No, princess. Just a little bit. I’d appreciate if you could make it look like he just hit his head and forgot.”

Stella stared at Fionn. That wasn’t exactly a big ask. What she’d done on Alexandra was intricate and meticulous. It took a lot of magical finesse to remove a memory without making it obvious that something was missing. But to bluntly remove a chunk of time was relatively easy—for Stella, at least.

She tried to puzzle out his angle. If he didn’t have magic, he wouldn’t have realized the simplicity of the task. Maybe he hoped to wear her out before the magic challenge. As far as she could tell, Fionn did not have magic, and if he did, it had to be meager for Stella to have no sense of it at all after being so close to him .

Witches could always sense magic on each other. Stella could sense it every time Teddy was close, and not just because of the bond buzzing in her chest. His storm magic sent a soft crackle through the air. All of the Savero siblings were like that.

Fionn looked at her expectantly.

“Why?”

He cocked his head and smiled flirtatiously. “That wasn’t part of our agreement. Information is power. I just need this small favor.”

“What if he forgets something vital?” Stella asked.

“You seem like a smart girl. I don’t think I should have to tell you that’s kind of the point,” Fionn said.

Stella tried to read anything else about this request in his eyes, but Fionn’s face was a mask of calm indifference.

Maybe he’d slept with the man’s wife and simply wanted the dalliance forgotten so he could come and go from the Olney ports without being sabotaged at every dock. The harbormaster did have considerable power in Olney City. He was in charge of the comings and goings of every visiting vessel, and while he did have the help of a team of tide witches and several deputies, he was ultimately the keeper of everything related to sea travel. It was an important role because having one man who knew everyone who came and went in Olney meant a wealth of information, all of which funneled back to the network of spies run by her Uncle Evan and Aunt Sylvie.

As if on cue, the dock bells rang out, signaling the end of the day. That meant only a half-hour to get back to the arena to check in for the third challenge.

“Time’s wasting, princess. We have somewhere to be mighty soon, and I have to think this work will take some doing.”

“What do you need me to erase? How much?”

“Just the last day, and I also need the corresponding incoming and outgoing ledger page for the last day as well,” Fionn said, polishing his fingernails on his tunic.

The move was too forced to be casual, but Stella didn’t have time to puzzle this out and she couldn’t go back on the bargain she’d made even if she wanted to. If she did, word would spread and no one would bargain for anything with anyone in her family. While that didn’t sound so bad now, she couldn’t imagine a situation where Rosie or Leo needed help and couldn’t get it because of something stupid she’d done. This was her mess, and she’d need to deal with the fallout. It would be easy enough to tell her parents when she saw them. She’d hold the stolen memories in her own mind until she had a chance to comb through them for anything suspicious.

“I’ll do it,” she said.

“Good lass. I knew you would. I know the honorable type when I see them, and I had you pegged on sight. Makes sense. They say your father was the honorable sort, too.”

Stella didn’t like that he brought up her father. It wasn’t a threat—everyone knew who her father was—but there was something about a mercenary referring to him directly that made her feel oddly protective.

“Don’t speak of my family.”

Fionn bowed his head. “I meant nothing by it, princess. Merely paying compliments.”

Stella frowned. Mercenaries were not known to compliment someone for being honorable. The only honor they respected was timely payment. But she had no choice.

The salt crust gritted on the hinges and a bell above her head jingled as she yanked open the door of the harbormaster’s office and walked inside.

“We’re closed,” a gruff voice called out from somewhere behind the tall wooden counter.

A large metal spike on the countertop was crammed full of port entry passes. When Stella leaned over the counter, she glimpsed an older man with gray hair bent over a ledger. He was muttering quietly to himself about something not adding up.

“Excuse me, sir,” she called.

The old man’s head snapped up at the sound of her voice. When he saw her face, he jumped to his feet. “Good evening, Lady McKay. How can I help you?”

Sometimes it was nice to be a familiar face. It instilled trust, even when she didn’t deserve it. Stella put on her best damsel-in-distress voice.

“I’m so sorry to bother you. I was actually wondering if you had a record of the ship that arrived from Novum, the one that was carrying Fionn Silver. As you know, my father likes to be very prepared and, given that I’m competing in the Gauntlet Games, he is trying to figure out how long each competitor has been here to prep.”

It was a terrible lie, but Stella had always understood the weight her parents’ names carried in Olney. She rarely threw them around, but when she did, people were eager to oblige her.

The harbormaster stood from his desk, grabbed the book, and walked to the counter. The wood groaned when he hefted the heavy tome onto it.

He turned back a few pages. “I remember myself. It was two weeks ago, but this book keeps me honest. Let’s see here—” He broke off as he scanned the page.

Memory magic could typically only be used with physical contact. But Stella’s magic was a remnant of her mother’s, unique in that it could work from a distance instead of just by touch.

She pressed gently against the harbormaster’s mind. The man didn’t even flinch. He went right on scanning the page. Stella closed her eyes and searched his mind. Time was difficult to track in another person’s memory, so she needed to try to have him call up something that would serve as a marker.

“I know a bunch of storytellers arrived from Novum yesterday. They’re here to record the story of the end of the festival,” Stella prompted.

Memory magic was an exercise in what to keep and how to organize it. When Stella was little and first learning to wield the magic that was her birthright, her mother had taught her to think of her mind as a giant library full of books. Eventually, the shelves would be full if she tried to save everything. Even magic had its limits. She’d learned to vent the unimportant memories before bed each night, imagining that she was pulling boring books from the shelf and tossing them out of her mind library .

The more important memories stayed tucked away in the back of the library for safekeeping, unless she wanted to pull them out and watch them for the sheer enjoyment of it. The front of her mind held memories that she needed to refer to more frequently—spells, appointments, and healing herbs.

And in a secret room off the side, she kept other people’s memories—moments her mother had shared with her from before she was born, and Rosie’s favorite memories of their childhood. That was where she would store the harbormaster’s memories.

Stella closed her eyes and pressed her magic into him. As he called up the memory of the previous day, the golden threads of his mind connected to that memory flared brighter.

She could see both the vision of the memory and the spiraling tangle of golden threads related to it in her mind’s eye. When someone was actively thinking of a person or memory, their mind naturally connected it with other related memories. That magic could be used to help heal the minds of those who suffered from memory loss. In this case, those same connections would allow her to uproot all the memories that she needed to extract.

She twisted the golden threads into a braid, and then gently tugged. They broke away with ease. Crowded brains were easier to manipulate in this way since they were eager to let go and make space. She tucked them into the secret room in her own mind for safekeeping until she had time to look through them and figure out what Fionn was trying to hide.

Before she finished, she removed the memory of her visit.

When she blinked her eyes open, the man was staring at her and rubbing his temples.

“I’m so sorry for this,” she said.

He frowned as she slammed his head into the desk. He crumpled to the floor. Stella checked his pulse before carefully removing the page that Fionn had requested from the ledger.

Stella scanned it quickly, committing it to memory before ducking outside.

Fionn’s face lit up when he saw her. “No problems? ”

“No problems, but we need to get back,” she said, shoving the page into his hand as she brushed by him. She walked down the dock and up the trail to town with a sick roiling in her stomach.

A little memory was no great loss, but she’d assumed when Fionn offered to trade that he’d wanted help to recover a relative’s memory. This task left her feeling like she’d unwittingly become an accomplice to some unknown crime.

Stella shook off the anxiety and forced herself to focus on one challenge at a time. The Gauntlet Games’ final challenge was upon them, so the mystery would have to wait.