Page 14 of A Touch of Stars and Stones (Kirrian #1)

nine

. . .

Ever

T he door closes to my room, and I inwardly groan as I make my way across the elegant space to the bed and dive headfirst into it. It’s a much more comfortable action with the heaped pillows and thick mattress.

Walking back from the training residence gave me time to realise I was wary of staying in The Chamber quarters, away from everyone else.

And I couldn’t shake the feeling of wanting to go back—go back there and find Aten and ask what happened, and what he saw when I brushed his hand in the dining hall.

It would be nice, for once, to be given an explanation rather than kept in the dark. It feels like the truth is still far away, and with so many questions remaining, every time I take a step forward, another two emerge to block my path.

The best thing Micah mentioned was lessons, and that meant knowledge, so I might be able to pull myself out of this perpetual pit of the unknown. I’ll be able to learn firsthand.

Kyra met me at the door to The Tower after Micah walked me back from the training centre and exclaimed, with great excitement, that I was to attend a dinner with all members of The Chamber.

No matter how excited she looked, all I felt was dread, like a stone had taken up lodgings in the pit of my stomach.

It didn’t end well the last time I met with those people.

Stars, if I had my way, I’d never have to speak with them again, and I’d move right on into the training. But that was out of my hands.

I eye the bag I’ve brought with me. The desire to hold something of mine, something within my control, pushes me to open it and pull out the few possessions I have.

The gold ring is still on my finger and hasn’t fallen off despite my fear, so I turn it once around my forefinger for luck.

I unwrap the teacup and place it on the ornate table beside the bed, and do the same with the brooch, holding it for a moment and running my thumb over the flat of the leaf design before setting it next to the teacup.

The small piece of quartz has always been my prize, and I take it and hold it for a moment, my fingers warming the rock and finding comfort from the small stone.

I’ve never been bold, never dreamt of exploring more than what my life afforded me, other than that one day when I ventured further than I was allowed.

This was my reward, this small piece of smooth quartz.

And now I stare at it and wonder if I’d have found other treasures, other people, if I’d tried, and pushed past my boundaries for a second time.

If I hadn’t swallowed everything that Lyle told me, and instead, asked more questions.

The ifs muddle in my mind, perhaps because of where I am.

But I can’t change the past, and no matter whether I’m happy or not, I’m here.

The box is open, and I can’t pretend like I don’t know all of this exists now.

A new world.

With actual magic.

And I’m not going insane.

Because I have magic.

I lie on the bed and stare at the cup with the brooch propped up next to it. They’re familiar, but the backdrop now is so different. Luscious and expensive. Another thing to get used to. My collection of things doesn’t look right against that backdrop, but it is still my collection.

“Are you ready?” Kyra’s voice singsongs into the room.

“Um. Sort of.” I roll over and stand, brush down my shirt and tuck it back into my linen trousers.

She takes a step inside the room and her face scrunches. “You are not ready. Have you even changed?”

“No. It’s dinner. Besides, I have two more shirts like this one, and that’s about it. It won’t make a difference which one I wear.” She’s not going to make me feel bad about what I can and can’t wear to dinner.

“You’re wrong. This is the full Chamber you’re dining with. And I saw the impression you made earlier. Wait here.” She turns and leaves before I have a chance to argue.

I shake my head and wait for her.

There’s a small mirror in the washroom, so I go and see what all the fuss is about.

Sure, my hair’s a little straggly, the wavy curls knotting and messy rather than defined, but that’s normal.

It doesn’t stop my fingers from trying to comb through the tangles and pull them back into the small leather tie I use to keep most of it under control.

It still escapes and does whatever it wants. I don’t know why I bother sometimes.

My shirt is clean, my trousers a little creased, but perfectly good enough. And it isn’t like I have a wardrobe of options to choose from.

“Here.”

I pop my head back out and see Kyra holding up a long, soft-looking garment—a dress. I’ve never owned a dress. At least, not like this one.

When I was younger, Lyle dressed me in pinafore-style dresses, but I chose linen trousers over those as soon as I could.

“I can’t wear that. It’s too…” I flap my hands at the dress.

“Nonsense. Come on.” She nods at me and thrusts the dress towards me, expectantly covering her face as if I’m to change right there. And just to spite her, I do. I pull the shirt over my head and untie the trousers. “Ever!”

“What’s wrong? Do Kirrians look different than this under their clothes?”

“No, although we do have more modesty.”

I forgo taking the small cami top off and reach out to her for the dress.

I step into the washroom and undress to my underwear before pulling the silky material over my head.

It feels cool against my skin and clings to my curves as it slides over my chest and hips, dropping almost to the floor.

My leather lace-up boots will not match this outfit.

“Perfect.” She beams as I creep out of the room. It feels odd to have so little on. The string straps make my shoulders feel bare in contrast, and the lacy detail of the dress only just covers my breasts.

It certainly isn’t perfect. “I need something… here.” I grab a clean cotton shirt, thread my arms through, and tie the two sides together in front of me.

Kyra looks appalled, but I at least feel a little less on display and more suitably dressed for dinner. “I won’t convince you to take that off?” she checks.

“Nope. It’s called a compromise,” I say as I turn up my sleeves. The shirt acts like a jacket of sorts. “I will ask for some more suitable shoes. I can only imagine your face if I keep on my boots.” I smile at her, and she scurries off as though in a race without another word.

She’s trying to help me and seems to be going far beyond just making me feel settled. Having Kyra as a potential friend would be nice. New. Especially given it is only her and her brother who seem friendly so far.

Except maybe Aten, who has me so intrigued, even smiling. But after our last interaction, he’s an unknown. It doesn’t stop me thinking, or hoping we’ll get to know each other or even become friends. The disappointment from earlier is still lodged in my chest as he left without a word.

Kyra returns so fast that I have to wonder where she’s getting everything from. “Here,” she pants, holding out a pair of soft leather slippers.

“Thank you.”

“Come on. You’re late. And that makes me look just as bad as you.” She ushers me towards the door as I hop and try to slide the supple shoes onto my feet.

“Is Lyle already there?” I ask as we round the corner at the top of The Tower and arrive at the ominous door into the Great Hall.

“No. Lyle isn’t invited to this.”

“It’s just me?” I squeak in panic.

Kyra gives me a sympathetic smile that at least tells me she sees why I’m so alarmed by this.

“I’ll be in the room, so you won’t be alone.” I want to grab her hand, but as if she can sense my move, she steps back from me. That’s never going to feel right—not reaching for somebody to touch.

I’d love to hug you right about now. I don’t say it, only think it and settle for, “Thank you.”

Kyra looks at me, her eyes wide, a little startled for a moment, but then forces a smile and steps towards the door. She nods to me and pushes it open.

The distraction of getting ready, of being late, and realising Lyle won’t be there all helped me to forget about the ball of nerves in my stomach. That is now impossible as I step forward and walk into the hall unaccompanied. It’s so severe I might even vomit.

The hall isn’t as empty as it was earlier.

A huge table, lavishly decorated with ivy and wreaths of flowers, now sits at the base of the dais.

My eyes run over the people at the seats, sitting with a noticeable gap between one another, and all of them collectively look at me.

The four I met this morning, I recognise, but there are more than that. Many more.

My heart starts to fly under the collective scrutiny, but I keep my head up and look over the table in return.

There’s one seat left, next to an elegant woman adorned in finery more appropriate for a queen, perhaps.

Gold is gleaming at her ears and around her neck, with soft curls tangled in her dark hair, one seat down from the head of the table.

I would have guessed that the Maker would be seated at the head, given that she is the daughter of the Goddess they worship, but it’s the man I attacked.

And Aten is to his right.

Our eyes find each other’s, but I break the contact quickly as I move to find my own seat.

“You did get the message that you’d be joining us for dinner, then.” The man I assaulted earlier, in red, addresses me, picking on the fact that I am, as Kyra warned, late.

Swallowing, I latch onto the anger I’ve grown accustomed to feeling and use it to fire my voice.

“I did. However, it wasn’t until just now.

Where I’m from, invitations to a formal dinner aren’t usually given at such short notice.

And I’d certainly never be expected to be in attendance without even offering a response to said invitation,” I bite back, squaring my shoulders even if I’m trembling inside.

I settle in my seat, ignore the quaking inside of me, and hope they don’t travel to the ground around me like back home.