Page 12 of A Touch of Stars and Stones (Kirrian #1)

seven

. . .

Aten

T raining is delayed for some unknown reason today. Rowan didn’t inform us until we were all up and ready, though. One of the drawbacks of living in the training residence is that the custodians are your new instructors and officers, so you have to learn to take orders pretty quickly.

The conversation with my mother has been weighing on me the last couple of days, so I decided to seek an audience with Kamari, the head of my Order.

Guard.

Not Warrior.

Still not used to that.

It feels strange coming back here. Father used to bring me to the hall all the time, showing it off as if it were something to boast about. He is a prideful man. A powerful man. You don’t get to be the head of your Order if you aren’t.

But since he gave me up, I’ve had no reason to seek him out either here or in his private office. And he’s made no effort to speak to me.

As soon as I enter the door at the base of The Tower, I can tell something is off.

The air is heavy, as if filled with foreboding.

I was never one for feelings or gut instincts before.

That wasn’t the way of a Warrior, but now, they are the strongest reactions in me, and reluctantly, I can see the advantage of them.

The climb to the top of The Tower doesn’t take long, but the feeling doesn’t clear. I arrive and step towards the doors barring the main hall. Closed.

It would usually be unthinkable to open the door without being invited, but I grab the iron rings bolted into the wood and push them inward.

The sense of foreboding that hit me when I first entered The Tower is stronger here.

I assess the situation fast, seeing the members of the Order on the dais with the Maker and her Triune.

But my father is on the floor at the base of the steps.

And a girl I’ve never seen before is marching right at me.

Burnt auburn hair spills out around her face, contrasting with her pale cream skin.

She is beautiful.

It’s the first thought that hits me.

And then I notice her eyes, soft green and sparkling, like moonlight shines behind them, but they’re also filled with anger.

Did she do this? Did she bring my father to his knees?

I stand in the doorway, blocking her path.

There’s no need for violence. She wouldn’t have made it into the Great Hall if she were a threat, surely, but I won’t move away first.

My eyes stay locked on her, and finally, she shows some reaction to me standing in her way.

For a second, it’s like I can read her mind, running all over the questions she has—should she walk right over me or through me?

But she hesitates, just enough to give me the advantage.

I move to close the gap, and she slows to a stop until we’re standing opposite each other.

Her eyes continue to burn with anger. And she bares it all at me like I’m the one igniting it. Fascinating. My hand twitches and reaches for the knife sheathed at the base of my spine, but she’s unarmed unless I count her rage.

I’ve got every advantage against her—a foot in height and plenty of muscle. She’s not short, but certainly doesn’t look like a Warrior or that she’s trained a day in her life. Her frame is delicate, yet with enough curves that my eyes want to linger and admire them.

“Let her pass, Aten,” Kamari instructs.

The order has me looking down at my father again, who has righted himself and is at least standing now.

Every instinct in me screams to challenge her, prevent her from passing and make her answer whatever questions I, or anyone else, may have. But I shove it down and ignore it until I can let my body move a fraction, granting her free passage to storm past me.

It’s easy to keep my gaze on her, and to my pleasure, she keeps her eyes locked with mine as she leaves, even twisting her head as she goes, tracking me as she does.

Kyra, one of the servants, follows after her, along with another woman whom I again don’t recognise.

I’ve lived at The Court my entire life and know most of the people who live here, if not by name or directly, then by sight at least. For two strangers to be here is highly unusual and makes me wonder even more about the fiery girl.

We don’t deal well with outsiders, naturally protective of the gifts we’re granted.

After they leave, I take in the collective easing of the room. Even the Maker sits back in her chair as if it’s now safe to do so.

If this had happened a few months ago, I’d be at my father’s side. No hesitation.

Today, I linger, watching and assessing for a few moments.

Kamari, Portia, and Darien start to talk among themselves, not waiting for my father to join them on the dais. He turns to climb the stone steps back up to his position with the others.

His posture tells me everything. He’s about to unleash his anger. If the girl did bring him to his knees, he’ll be mad for weeks.

“What was that?” His voice is ice cold, silencing the room.

Seeing him like this reminds me that his desire for power is absolute. And maybe this is the first challenge that struck him, reminding him that he’s not immune to everything or everyone, at least for a while.

Kirrasia doesn’t have a King or Queen. We’ve always welcomed the combined leadership and guidance from all four Orders, not choosing to favour one over the other. Balance, as is Aslendrix’s will.

But I wonder if my father wishes it were different.

No one answers his question, and I’m intrigued as to what exactly happened before I came in.

“What was that?” he repeats.

“Calm yourself, Orion Ciro,” the Maker tells him. She is the closest we have to a queen, certainly a matriarchal figure, blessed by Aslendrix, although she’s never sought power, only ever supporting and guiding everyone in Kirrasia. To me, she’s more like a witch.

“She assaulted?—”

“She did nothing that you would not have done yourself,” she snaps, silencing my father. “I saw, if only through intent. Don’t forget that.”

“Is she…” Kamari starts.

“Yes. She is. She will begin training fully as soon as Aslendrix grants us her power.”

What did that mean? What is she? But the Maker’s eyes slide to me before any more information slips free. “Did you want something, Aten Ciro?”

I hate when she does that.

As she waits for my answer, the others in the room seem to remember my presence.

“Aten, please return to training. I will be free later this evening if you still wish to talk.” Kamari gives me a stiff smile. “I’ll be in my office.”

I can’t help but look at Father, but he’s still too cross to acknowledge me.

Well, fuck him.

Training can be exhausting. It is designed to test you mentally and physically, pushing you to your limits, both in yourself and with your magic.

It is also intended to show you how the other Orders work, how other trainees’ magic works, and how they can combine with your own to form new and unique powers.

It’s why it takes so long, and we have to wait until our own power solidifies through the Transference before we begin.

As kids, Calix and I would always talk about being trainees. We’d sneak out to watch them fight, spar, and witness as many trials as we were allowed to watch. We knew it would be us one day—every child in Kirrasia has the same education and training—it was just a matter of time.

But Calix is still a Warrior. We’re on different paths now.

Stars, he could be the next head of the Warrior Order, although I know that’s not what he wants.

Sure, he’s ambitious, but he’s a fighter through and through.

The head of our army, following in his father’s way, yes.

But the thought of who will succeed my father now burns in my gut.

Although Calix won’t be granted any position if he can’t keep pace with Ascella.

She’s another Warrior trainee, and she’s kicking Calix’s arse.

The first few weeks of training mean we are still learning and getting a read on everyone’s abilities and how they work with our own. But Ascella must have been holding back because none of us has had a fight like this so far.

She’s countered every move Calix made. She’s fast—that’s her gift—but she‘s using his strength against him because she isn’t going easy with those punches. And I can see frustration rising in Crimson as we stand on the sidelines of the sparring ring.

“Don’t,” I warn her.

“I won’t.”

“Really?” I turn to her and catch the glint in her eye that is all too familiar with her. Crimson doesn’t like coming second to anyone, and that extends to her twin. She will break all the rules to make sure they are both on top.

Ascella twists out of Calix’s grip and plants her foot in his gut, sending him flying back towards us.

Crimson leans over and places her hand on Calix, and the next thing we see is him barrelling towards Ascella at an unnatural speed. He takes her out, sending her to the dirt.

“That’s enough. Crimson. Calix. See me after we’re done,” Rowan snaps.

“I told you not to,” I say.

“And I did it anyway. You should know by now that I don’t always listen to you.” She raises her brows at me before going to see her brother.

We all break off into the tentative friendship groups that have begun to form.

I hang back and watch, but with nothing to keep my focus, my mind wanders to the girl with the auburn hair.

That lingering look we gave each other as she stalked past me seems seared into my mind.

She wanted to know about me just as much as I wanted to know about her.

“Everyone!” Rowan booms, pulling our attention. We all gather just outside the training ring and wait for his next instruction. “I know we’ve not had our usual schedule today. We’ll resume tomorrow. But before I dismiss you, we have a new trainee to introduce you to.”

The girl from the Great Hall steps forward from the entryway to the classroom building.

She looks right at me, and it’s like I can feel her anxiety through the look in her eyes alone. Gone is the fire and anger from earlier, and I instantly miss it. But as I stare back at her, I’m struck by how easy it would be to read every emotion in those expressive eyes alone.

“…Ever Hart.”

I miss what Rowan said, but I catch her name at least.

Ever.

It sounds like a promise inside my mind, and I watch her as she offers a glimpse of a smile but doesn’t say a word as she looks at us all.

Kyra is behind her, as is the same unfamiliar woman from the hall earlier.

“Hi, I’m Micah Star.” He steps forward and nods his head towards her with a big fucking smile on his face.

She smiles back and steps towards him in greeting, holding her hand out. He looks a little confused and ignores it, and Ever’s eyes turn angry, now my favourite shade.

“We don’t shake hands here, Ever,” the woman with her whispers, not quietly enough.

“You’re not Kirrian,” Crimson tosses it out like an accusation.

Ever drops her arm and takes a small step away from Micah.

“No.”

I watch as her spine stiffens, and she raises her head to meet Crimson’s glare. And I swear the air around us all cools, clouds pulling in to block the sun.

“Well, welcome. If you’re training with us, I’ll happily show you around.” Micah cuts the tension and pulls Ever’s attention.

“Thank you.”

“Ever will be joining our lessons but won’t be doing any physical training tasks until after her Transference,” Rowan explains.

That’s strange. All trainees participate in all training tasks, even before their Transference. My eyes stay close to her, watching her hand clench and relax at her side as she shifts her feet in the sand. Her anxiety is written all over her body, which I can’t quite pull my thoughts or eyes from.

“If we’re done, I can show you the training centre now,” Micah offers. Rowan nods.

“Calix, Crimson, wait for me outside my rooms. I’ll be there shortly,” he adds.

I watch as he turns back to the woman who’s been at Ever’s side, and they walk off in conversation.

“This should be fun,” Calix grumbles as he passes me. I nod. But my attention is on Ever, and I keep watching her until Micah takes her inside the building and out of sight.