Page 18 of A Touch of Stars and Stones (Kirrian #1)

eleven

. . .

Ever

I don’t know if he can hear my heartbeat, but it’s racing.

The world as I know it has been turned upside down and shaken so hard that my mind has come loose, I’m sure of it.

But here. Now. With Ten, it all seems to fade into the background.

His eyes stay anchored to mine, and the warmth in them infuses throughout my body, even though it’s the middle of the night.

Or it might be just the way I respond to him.

Stars above, he’s handsome. Devastatingly so when he grins at me, setting my pulse flying.

Despite my current state of questionable sanity, it’s clear that Aten’s holding back.

I might not know much about him, but I can already tell that.

He’s got his own secrets to choose to share, and that’s fine. I’m still learning mine.

There’ll be time. I hope.

“What now?” I ask.

“Now? What do you want?” His eyes dip to my lips—fast—but not fast enough that I don’t notice.

“I can take you back to your room. We can stay here, or I can teach you the names of the stars.” He turns his head to look up at the sky.

I do the same, watching the dots of light blink in the inky darkness.

My eyes sparkle with the hundreds of thousands of twinkling stars, and the enormity of everything I’ve learned strikes me.

The idea of magic existing, that there’s a Goddess.

It cloaks me in wonder, and suddenly I’m nothing more than a single one of those dots. A lone light.

Tiny, against the new world I’m in.

But the stars are so beautiful.

“My personal tutor?” I turn to Ten.

“Maybe. You don’t know if I’m any good, though.” The warmth from his eyes spreads to his voice. He’s teasing, and I appreciate the relief as it pulls me back from the black void I was facing.

I look him over in his smart shirt and his neat hair that’s started to fight against the style he’s worn it in, desperate to fall back into its usual place, I guess.

His father is the head of his Order—he’s harsh. Controlling. Power hungry. I don’t think he’d allow Ten to grow up and not be excellent at everything he does. However, I keep that assessment to myself.

“Oh, I doubt you’d be anything but a model student,” I tease back. “Tell me about the Transference. What happens? What was yours like?”

He sits bolt upright, breaking the moment between us and, if possible, puts a few extra inches of distance between us, physically pulling away from me like I just said something terrible. And just like earlier, disappointment squeezes my chest.

I wait. I wait for… something, because I’m not sure what was wrong with what I asked. My chest rises and falls, the pace of my heart slowing as the disappointment drags.

“The Transference is a ceremony where you’re presented by a member of your family, or another significant person, to Aslendrix,” Ten states, and then stands, dusts the sand from his trousers and takes a further step away from me.

“Advocates gift their magic power as an offering back to Aslendrix in exchange for your power from her.” His answer is robotic, like he’s reading from one of the books Micah told me about in the library.

“You’ll have time to learn what happens in class.

” He shoves his hands into his pockets and turns away.

What just happened?

Gone is the teasing warmth and fun we were skating towards. And before me is the brooding boy, shutting everything down again.

“Stars, yes. Transference, no. Got it.” I sit up and stand, annoyed that I have a million questions to ask and no way of knowing what might trip me up.

It’s clear he doesn’t want to discuss the Transference.

Why couldn’t he just say that? Hastily, I tug at the knot of my shirt and undo it to pull the sides tightly around me, shielding against the chill he’s given me.

“It’s… a difficult subject. It’s personal. Everyone’s is different.”

So, no details, nothing that might help me prepare. “Fine. Thanks for enlightening me.” I walk off, back towards The Court. “I can find my own way. Perhaps the easiest thing I’ve learned since being here.” I don’t want to guess at more small talk obstacles.

“I’m sure you can.”

“Then you don’t need to worry about escorting me home.

You’re already where you need to be. I’ll see you tomorrow if I’m part of the schedule.

” The words are timid as I navigate back to some level of comfort and try to melt the frosty response he’s given me, and I need to do it before I finally burst and lose the fine strand of control I still have.

After everything, now would be a great time to be back in my room. Alone.

Each footstep away feels cooler, like Aten is the very source of heat keeping me warm, or maybe the air around us suddenly caught on to the fact that the sky is dark and the moon is out.

I pick up my pace, my soft slippers now feeling stupidly inadequate for trekking back towards the city. Every stone or pebble in the dirt digs into my sole as if there is nothing on my feet at all.

But as I head towards the bridge and pass the guards, Ten’s still following me.

“Aten, I don’t?—”

“Ten. We’re friends. I told you to call me Ten.” His voice has an angry edge, and it contradicts his words.

“Well—” I keep walking. “As a friend, maybe you could explain what just happened? I thought you said you’d help me. All I did was ask a question. If you didn’t want to talk about it, then you should have said so.”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Great, was that so hard?” I shout over my shoulder, my disappointment morphing into anger, sizzling at the tips of my fingers. I’m sick of not knowing enough.

“I don’t want you to be mad at me.”

“I’m working on that,” I mutter. Didn’t I deserve a little slack, given the circumstances?

“Ever, please. Stop. Let me?—”

“It’s fine. Go back to your room.” I cut him off.

“Ever!” I feel his hand on my arm. The heat of his touch scorches through the cotton of my shirt. The momentum spins me to face him, but then my vision blurs, lights flash, and images race.

Images I recognise. Scenes I know.

It’s like before. Back home. The flicker book of pictures running in my mind, a sliver of something, a picture, a memory.

On to the next. The next. Over and over.

But as they get faster, they grow less familiar, running into images I’ve never seen before.

Landscapes. Faces. Colours. Trees. The sky. Stars. Until nothing.

“Ever? Ever, please. Can you hear me?”

The voice sounds familiar. But I don’t want to open my eyes. Not yet.

My head starts to clear, the ripples of my mind stilling, and I know where I am. The last time this happened, I was home, and when I opened my eyes, Lyle was looking at me with fear for the first time in my life.

It was starting to become a familiar look on people around me.

“Ever, I swear, you can ask me anything, and I promise to tell you all about it, just open your eyes. Please, show me those eyes.”

Ten.

It was Ten’s voice.

“I’m fine.” But I don’t open my eyes. Not yet.

“What the zuns? Are you?” I can imagine him pacing and pulling at his hair.

“I said I’m fine. I think.” I crack my eyes and see I’m on the floor with Ten leaning over me. He sits back to give me some space, and I right my body, bringing me back to the here and now.

We’re both quiet. The faint noises of life travel across the night from The Court and the closest dwellings, the gentle sound of the river creating a background rhythm.

“What’s zuns? I don’t think I’ve heard that here yet?”

“Ahh. Well, Aslendrix is our blessed Goddess. Novandia is her brother. Zuns is where we were told as children we’d be banished to, if we didn’t behave. It’s meant to be where even Aslendrix and Novandia are afraid to venture.”

So more things to wrap my head around. Power. Mythical places.

The silence grows between us again.

“Has that happened…” he trails off, but kindness softens the edges of his voice now.

“Yes.” I nod. “It’s what made Lyle bring me here. I’d kept it from her before then.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No need. This is me. This is why I thought I was going mad. It’s why I asked you to help me, because I have no clue as to what’s normal or not. And when people continue to keep things from me, I get fucking mad.” I clench my hands as my voice rises.

“I’d offer to help you up, but…”

I look up at him, half expecting a grin, but there’s no sign of the carefree Ten I met earlier. He’s pulled his brows together in a frown, and he’s not looking at me.

“I know how to get back,” I repeat.

“There’s no way I’m letting you wander around on your own now,” he scoffs.

I give a slight shake of my head and stand up, my legs a little numb, like I’ve been riding Nettle for a day with no rest. The thought makes me wonder what happened to him.

“Can we stop at the stables before going back? I’ll be quick,” I ask.

“Sure. I don’t know why, though.”

“Just indulge me, please. Hopefully, he’s still there.”

Ten takes us to a different stable than where we dropped the horses when we arrived. This stable seems more permanent, but I’m pleased that I recognise Nettle there, safely tucked into a bed of his own.

“Hey, boy.” I stand at the half door and smile as Nettle neighs his greeting. I’m careful not to touch him, understanding now dawning on me.

“Would horses be affected by touch, like other people in Kirrasia?” I ask.

“Maybe. I know that Warriors ride horses, and there are stories of their speed and strength. Perhaps.”

“Nettle didn’t like me to start with. He was wary of me when I touched him directly, skin to skin. He settled after I limited that.”

“Nettle was the horse who brought you here.” Ten gathers.

“Yes. I just felt like I should check on him.”

“He’ll be well looked after. Can we get you back to your apartment now?” Ten sounds impatient.

“Sure. I’ve had enough excitement for tonight.”