Page 17 of A Touch of Stars and Stones (Kirrian #1)

“Micah can barely make the ground beneath his hands vibrate. He doesn’t know what he’s talking about.” A white lie. He might not be gifted with magic, but he makes up for it with smarts.

“I did that, too. When we were leaving home. I got scared, and the ground started to shake.”

Visions, memories, voices inside your mind, and shaking the earth before the Transference?

I force my face not to show any sign of concern at what she is saying.

Her power is awakening, growing, but all over the place.

From my knowledge, magic doesn’t show like that.

It’s like she has gifts from more than one Order.

There’s an urge, deep-rooted inside of me, a desire, even, to share my own questions about the Order I now belong to and what my power actually is.

I want to connect with her and have something in common with her.

Instead, I offer a promise. “I will help you.” My own worries are mine, not hers.

She doesn’t need the weight of them adding to hers.

“You will? You promise to tell me?”

“I will.”

“Thank you.” Her words are heavy with sincerity.

She stands, seemingly done with the conversation, and starts down one step, then another.

“Ten, as you’ve seen my mini meltdown, fancy filling me in on what training will really be like?

” She smiles, and I hear her attempt at being light-hearted.

“I don’t even know what all the Orders are about except their names. I don’t know what to expect.”

“You won’t be doing anything until your Transference,” I repeat, remembering what it was like to brush her skin, yet wanting to do it all over again despite myself.

“I know, but… apart from learning the history of Orders and Goddesses, I’m not really sure of anything.”

“Micah didn’t tell you?” I remember watching her go into the training centre and residence with him. It was a calculated guess he’d show her the food hall, one that I’m glad worked out in my favour.

“He covered a lot of information.” She blinks a few times, and I sense the confusion in her, like I know that’s what she’s feeling.

“Let’s get out of here. Come on.” I step around her and lead her down The Tower and out into the main Court street.

The city’s awake, with lanterns and lights shining from the houses as we start our descent.

“The Orders congregate together. A village for each Order, and the walls of The Court merge a little between each other as we head down. Warrior and Guard.” I point out the regimented structure of the buildings of the Warrior houses and streets.

“There are homes built of stone and thatch and winding streets and alleys, the closer we get to the gate.”

“There were tents and stalls at the gate, as you call it.”

“The Naturals like to be close to nature. They don’t like to be confined to within the walls of The Court,” I explain.

We continue walking down, and I watch her take everything in as we pass.

I try to imagine what it would be like to see this all for the first time.

I’ve known these small streets, these people, my whole life.

The Court isn’t vast, with many Kirrians stationed in Sunatora, scouts in Nehandun, and even divisions in Estereah supporting her world, our world, to keep peace and balance.

I shove my hands into the pockets of my dress trousers and keep walking.

Finally, we leave the formal confines of The Court, and I lead her over the bridge, past the ever-present guards, who still nod, out of habit perhaps, and steer us to the training centre.

Stepping over the edge of the first ring, I head for the centre, where the three intersect, and sit down, drawing my knees up and loosely wrapping my arms around them.

She stands over me as if she’s debating whether to copy me or not. I nod for her to sit, but I can see the stubborn streak in her that wants to push back—she doesn’t like being told what to do, and I can’t keep the grin off my face at what she’s going to make of training.

“What?” she questions with fire catching at the edges of her voice.

“Oh, just, I didn’t realise you were so stubborn. It’s going to make things interesting.”

“How about you tell me what is going to make it so interesting. I’ve come all the way out here.” She crosses her ankles and tries to sit, a little too close, and then sets about rearranging the dress she’s in, gathering the fabric up and exposing her bare skin so she can bend her knees.

Anxiety suddenly seeps into me, like I’m nervous, and I tilt my head to study Ever. Is that her feeling? I wasn’t nervous about coming here or being with her, but now…

“What?” she snaps.

“You can relax.”

“I am relaxed,” she shoots back.

Fine. Stubborn.

“What do you want to know first?”

“Go through a usual day. No, the Orders. What do each of them do, or what can they do? What am I?” She starts rushing through the questions.

“Easy there, we have time.” And I realise I’ll happily stay awake and watch Aslendrix cross the sky if it means easing her nerves.

I lie down, pulling myself away from her a fraction and put my hands behind my head. “We tend to eat together in the hall for breakfast, then have drills. Running, combat skills, and sparring, which,” I tilt my head to watch her, “will be hard for you.”

“Why?” She scowls.

“Have you ever gone on a run? Have you ever held a sword or spear? Thrown a punch?”

“Alright, alright. Fair point.” She turns her head.

“Then, there are usually history lessons. About our Orders. About the Triune’s that have come before. And then we practice.”

“Practice what?”

“We see what we can control, influence, or do with our gifts. Both alone and then with others. It’s hard to explain.

We spar one-on-one, but when we touch, our powers combine, sometimes to enhance, sometimes to form something completely new.

And then we have to work to control that.

To put it to use. We’ve started one-to-one, which is easier.

But the goal is to find the third person to work with. ”

“That sounds…”

“Intense. Challenging. Draining. It is all of those things.” I don’t pretend. She deserves the truth. “Especially at the start. We’re not even at the first trial.” I leave out frustrating, infuriating, and boring.

“Please tell me that we’re safe in these trials. That we won’t have to…”

“Kill each other? No. But we can hurt each other, I suppose. It depends on what tasks they set us.”

“Let me guess, your father might have a part in that?”

Seems like she doesn’t like him either. “Well, the Warrior trial, yes. There are four trials. One for each Order.”

Another hit of that uneasy feeling settles over me. I risk another glance at her. The moonlight shines down, lighting up her face. She’s not looking at me, though. She’s looking out into the Ember, so I continue with more knowledge I can give her.

“We’re tested to see how we work together. Sometimes, it’s a mental challenge, sometimes physical, to put our learning into practice.”

“Why did you leave so abruptly earlier? In the food hall.”

I tilt my head back up to the sky and think about how to construct that answer.

The truth seems fair. She’s shared with me, so I should share in return. “You had your hands full with the Custodians.” I don’t give it to her, though.

“No. You didn’t like that we touched. You didn’t like what I saw. Is that my gift? To see visions from others?” She lies back in the sand next to me and tilts her head. I can feel the heat of her stare and the weight of that question.

“I don’t know.” I turn to face her, hoping that she knows that to that question, I’m being truthful.

We stay like that, far past what would usually be a comfortable amount of time. Her eyes search mine, but I search hers in return.

The wave of anxiety is replaced by that heat—that pull I feel when she looks at me. At dinner. In the food hall.

It’s addictive. And I like it. And it’s growing into something that I want to be familiar with. Something I want to lean into.

And touch.

Fuck.