Page 33 of A Touch of Stars and Stones (Kirrian #1)

Okay, there is too much to start worrying about in that explanation. “And then what?” I move on, or I’ll dwell on what he’s already said.

“Then we move into whatever position or place that’s been chosen for. Sometimes we start a different sort of training, like being an apprentice or joining the army, but then we get to start living our lives as we’ve found our role.”

“Like being a Watcher? Micah told me it was an important position. But you’d never live with your people.

Your family.” I think of Lyle and where she is on her way home.

If she’ll be safe after what happened in the woods with those men, especially as she’ll no longer have magic, since the Transference.

I drop my eyes, my head sinking forward a little, and I look at the small plate and see one of my favourite custard tarts.

My eyes burn for a second, and I have to push back the emotion. I sit and twist myself back to the table to eat the sweet treat.

He doesn’t say anything, just sits and watches me bite through the flaky pastry and into the creamy filling. It’s just as good as the one Kyra set for me yesterday morning.

Before the Transference.

I can’t believe it was only yesterday.

The memory of stepping into that light, waiting, hearing those words, seeps into my brain. The pain.

“Hey, where’d you go?” Ten’s voice pulls me back, and I see his eyes locked with mine.

“Ahh, I’m just thinking about how fast all of this has happened. I wanted to go through with the ceremony and find out the answers that nobody was telling me. And now…”

“Would you risk it? Everything that has happened to you, the episodes, the blackouts, so that you could stay in your home?”

“I don’t know.” It was the truth. And the constant worry of ‘what if I’ll never be able to answer?’

The weight of the words settles between us. And the lightness of sharing food disappears. My mood darkens, the mood from earlier surging to the forefront, unable to be kept back with sugar.

“Do you still want me to help you?” he asks.

I nod. Of course I did, and that he asked, helps keep the mood at bay.

“Want to go over everyone in the class? I’m betting you don’t know what we’re all capable of yet.”

True.

“You can’t take us on if you don’t know how. During training, you’ve been kept from the rest of us since the obstacle course.”

“I don’t want to take any of you on. Except for Crimson.”

“Well, that needs to change. Let’s do a run down.”

I lift my head and square my shoulders. “Go for it.” I take a deep breath.

“You already know me, Calix, Crimson, and Micah. You seem to be getting on well with Raiden and Ascella.”

“Raiden is a Natural,” I state, remembering from the obstacle course. “Ascella’s like Crimson and is a Warrior. Calix is strong, also a Warrior.”

“Right. So that leaves Capella. She’s a Natural. Strong, too, but she’s quiet, so don’t forget she’s powerful. Then there’s Azur. He’s a Guard like me. And then Ravi, who’s Elemental, like Micah.”

“Okay. But what can they do? Warriors seem easy. The others are all a little confusing. It’s not like you all have the same magic abilities.”

“Yeah, I get that. Ravi’s gift is water. He can bend it, manipulate it, conjure it, even.”

“Wow. So, when he made it rain—” I say, thinking back.

“He pulled it from around him. Micah can influence the ground, the earth. Each of the Orders has a general area or skill set. Everyone, with influence from Aslendrix, will have powers enhanced and granted within that sphere.”

“And ones that don’t seem to have powers? I know Kyra hasn’t said anything about hers.”

“Powers can be personal. It’s not always on show or obvious. If you’re curious, ask.”

I think about asking what he can do, but I don’t. “It’s not seen as rude?” I check, not wanting to offend the only friend I seem to have here by accident.

“She’ll tell you if she’s not comfortable.”

I nod. And the quiet of the room seems to rise and envelop us, reminding me we’re alone. The crackle of the fire, the gentle flicker and pop of the wood burning, is the only noise. Listening to the sounds is soothing, and I stifle a yawn, not wanting to be rude.

He chuckles. “Come on. I’ll walk you back.”

“Oh, that’s ridiculous. It’s like fifty paces.”

He just shrugs.

And then I remember that his door is likely next to mine. Across the hall, maybe?

I stand, he follows, and we slowly head out.

There’s an energy to the air, a heaviness, an aura that clings as we make our way along the too-short walk back. Tension builds, but we’re both silent, the energy like a living thing in the space between us, feeding from the proximity to one another.

“This is me.” I stop at the first door I come to, regretting that the walk wasn’t longer.

“I hope you don’t snore.” He chuckles again, and I realise I love that sound and hope I get to hear it time and time again. He nods towards his door opposite.

Shaking my head, I can’t help but grin.

The seconds trip over themselves, racing to tick by. “Good night,” I break. What else can I say? “Thank you for the pastry.” My hand reaches for the handle behind me, but I don’t find it, so I turn, ending whatever connection there was.

“Ever?”

I freeze and tilt my head back towards him.

“I wanted to stop it,” he starts. The regret in his voice pulls me towards him, and I lean my back against the door so I can watch him. “That pain I saw on your face. I tried. But the Maker kept me—bound me—from reaching you.”

The charge in the air suddenly feels fragile, as if it’s waiting with anticipation as much as I am for the rest of the story.

Ten looks down at my free hand and steps closer.

It’s impossible to keep my eyes from following as he reaches out towards it, the softest of touches brushing against the curve of my hand, the electricity pulsing from just that alone. He doesn’t stop. His thumb sweeps over my skin, and then my hand is engulfed by his.

No pain.

But a rush of current, hot and deep, races up my arm, skittering to my chest.

Building.

Our eyes flick to each other, and the familiar contentment I feel is like a magnet, locking my gaze to his—locking every part of my body to his.

His deep breath and the set of his jaw, the only answer to that touch.

But my eyes are traitors and dip to his lips. A habit, if it’s not too soon to call it that, and he hasn’t told me to stop.

I want to kiss him—to taste him.

The thought is in my mind and blankets everything else. But is it allowed? If touch is limited, then being physically intimate…

Ten coughs and drops my hand, stepping back in haste. He turns, angling himself away as he ruffles his hair with his hand.

A flash of warmth blossoms over my neck and my cheeks, and I pull my arms against my chest.

“Ahh, so, Guards, we… ah, feel more, and sense emotions. Our minds are our greatest strength, according to Kamari, at least.”

My eyes flare, and my breath catches as he steps back in front of me, that smirk now full of mischief. “You heard my mother’s thoughts. You made me hear her, too. At least, that’s my theory. And you just…” he drops his eyes to my lips.

Back to my eyes.

Lips.

I pull the bottom one behind my teeth as I desperately hold his gaze.

Intense. The burning of my cheeks, now ablaze as I feel my body come alive under his scrutiny.

One second. Two. Three.

He leans in, his lips now a whisper away from my ear. “We,” he pauses, “can kiss. We can be very physical. And certainly intimate.”

I swallow, my mouth going dry at his words.

Mortification tickles me as I remember reading about a Guard’s gift, and I close my eyes as I’m flooded with embarrassment, but something else as well.

He heard my thoughts.

Or I spoke it to him.

Lyle heard me, too. I willed it. So, is that my gift? Or is it Ten’s, as a Guard? It wasn’t always clear what the person could do when reading about Guards.

My gut swarms with butterflies, telling me to storm into my room, barricade the door and hide my embarrassment. But I can’t move.

I don’t want to move.

Ten steps back, but instead of the grinning smirk on his face, there’s a seriousness to it, like he’s realised something.

He pulls back further, giving me some much-needed space to take a breath, but I keep watching, a fool for not forcing my eyes away.

He licks his lips.

Stars.

“Bed,” he snaps, making me jump, and my eyes flare at him again.

“You need to sleep. After the Transference, you’ll feel tired and will probably sleep more. I’ll make sure you’re not late for training, though.”

He smiles and leaves me in the hall.