Page 44 of A Touch of Stars and Stones (Kirrian #1)

“Because you know what it’s like? Because you know who her parents were—her mother or father?

” I push, railing at him to tell the truth.

“Aurelia said it’s unusual to know more than one or two in a lifetime.

There are none alive, so who was it she knew?

Her Mother? Father? Should I be asking her who Ever’s parents are, as you seem incapable of telling the truth? ”

“Stop chasing this, Aten,” he shouts, and I feel the ripple of strength emanating from him.

“Answer my fucking questions, and I won’t have to,” I yell back, taking that power he’s so keen that I use and pushing back with my mind, locking onto him.

Opening my senses, I feel for…

Secrets. Layers and layers of deception. Cold and calculating. And Fear.

It’s like I’ve tuned in to everything vibrating under the surface of him.

There aren’t any images to accompany the feelings, like when I connected with Ever.

But his emotions, his thoughts, are like a wall, a barrier, built into a physical defence.

Under all that strength and power, all his knowledge and experience, it’s fear at the centre.

Fear that’s built up the wall, I can feel.

The shock that my father is anything other than powerful causes my concentration to slip, and any sense of him falls away.

“Don’t deign to think that you know better than the collective of the Orders. This is bigger than you or even Ever Hart.” He sneers her name, and my jaw clenches. “Now, drop it,” he commands.

“No. You think that she’s not going to start working it out herself? Whatever it is, you can’t keep it a secret.” My arm reaches around my back, and my fingers wrap around the familiar hilt. I draw the knife and slam the tip of the blade into the wooden desk behind me.

His face reddens as he sees what I’ve just done. Using his own knife—the family knife—to make my point doesn’t quell either of our tempers.

“She’s only just starting to learn her powers. She’s pushing back.”

“Well, maybe you need to remember this conversation when she does. And remind her not to. Nothing good can come from it. I assure you of that.” A threat.

No. Stars above, I won’t play any part in sabotaging her. My jaw tenses as I think of how to shape that particular response.

“I think it’s time for you to leave.” He looks past me to the door.

“Do you know who her parents are?” One last time. “Are they even alive?”

He still doesn’t answer.

I turn, ripping the knife from its position and march out.

The heavy wood slams against the stone wall in my wake, and I stride off down the corridor, sheathing my blade as I go.

The frustration and pent-up irritation of everything that came out of my father’s mouth, riding hard.

Calix is behind me again, and I don’t stop until we’re out of The Tower, in the fresh air, where I pause to breathe some fucking air into my lungs.

“That bad?” he asks.

“Worse.”

“Come on then.”

“Cal—”

“Just trust me. I couldn’t hear the details, but the shouting was pretty clear.”

“I’m not in the mood to drink.” I continue to follow him, back through the streets and through the various settlements of The Court.

“No drinking. Not yet, at least.” He slaps me on the shoulder, quick as a flash. He’s not done that outside of training—made contact—since we both went through the Transference.

He takes us back out of The Court, and instead of heading for the training residence, he veers off, up towards the path that leads through to either the Variscite Forest or the clearance where the Transference happens.

Although I know better than to think he’ll lead me there.

He takes us off the path after a few hundred meters and towards the base of the Jet mountains, where we used to come to when we were kids, just out of reach and sight of The Court’s walls, where we used to fight and play.

I already feel better, lighter.

“No holding back,” he states.

“No holding back.” We reach the small clearing, a rough, flat area that we commandeered as our very own sparring ring when we were younger.

Calix stands in the middle and rolls his shoulders, dropping into a familiar stance, waiting for me.

My head rolls on my shoulders before I step to him, mirroring his position.

And then I attack.

My hand only finds air as I push my fist towards Cal’s jaw and miss. He doesn’t retaliate and bounces back on his feet, encouraging my advance. So, I do.

Jab, one, two, a knee to his gut… the combinations start to flow, and Calix joins in, blocking and moving until we’re flowing back and forth, trading hits and blows.

“Come on, Ten. I know you’ve got more,” he pants.

“Maybe,” I breathe heavily. “But so do you.”

And as if he wanted to make a point, his left hook slams into my cheek, pain exploding around the impact. Shit.

But I grin. My mind draws on the contact, storing it in the very fibres of my body, and I unleash it with a combination of punches, lunges, and swipes that would have a devastating effect on anyone else but Calix.

We’re both caught up in the dance, back and forth, trading blow after blow. And it feels fucking great.

Until my legs are taken out from under me, and I hit the dirt on my left side.

“Now, now, boys. It’s rude to leave a girl on the sidelines.” Crimson stands over me, her hands on her hips, staring down at me.

Calix laughs, his deep voice booming, but it’s gone a second later when he advances on her, striking, at least trying to hit her.

She’s quick, sliding out of his reach like liquid.

I stand, and we all fall into the familiar pattern of fighting together, practising together, like we’ve done for hundreds of hours over the years.

Clouds of dust shoot up around our feet as we move forward and back, sliding to swipe, standing to jab and punch. It’s cathartic, the sweat forming and running over my skin, soaking into my training top. But we don’t stop.

We keep going, drawing on each other, Calix getting faster, Crimson getting stronger, and I can feel both their gifts under my skin.

My head’s been so consumed with wanting answers and hitting a brick wall against my father that I’ve kept a lock on my own skills. Reading their moves and calculating how to bring each of them down isn’t needed here.

And with each hit to my muscles and body, I feel the anger ebb away, like it’s being punched out of me, tempering my rage and quelling the fight with my father.

Calix knew. He knew this was what I needed when I didn’t.

Crimson, too. It’s the first time in weeks we’ve even smiled at each other, but I only see my friend as she strikes out with her arm, aiming for my already bruised cheek.

Her knuckles skim, and I grab her wrist, yanking her forward and sending her off balance, but she spins and uses her momentum and another swipe to my legs to send me to the ground first.

“I think I win,” she declares.

I grab her ankle and pull her so she falls, and she manages to land sprawled over my chest.

“If you two want to take this back to the residence, be my guest,” Calix hollers.

“What do you say, Ten?” she whispers. “It’s been months.

The new moon isn’t far away.” Her eyes lower a fraction, and even through the split lip and bruises, she gives me a deadly smile, reeking of everything I know she wants.

Not just me, but us—the three of us—the possibility of a Triune.

Something that I used to think I wanted.

But not now.

Now everything has changed. Even before Ever arrived.

And now she’s here, and I can’t think straight for thoughts of her.

Maybe it was the way she didn’t cower before my father or the way she stood up to Aslendrix herself at her Transference, but she is now who I consider when thinking about a future.

She is the one who invades my mind at night, the one I want to fight for, the one I will suffer for just to hold her hand a little longer.

“Sorry, Crim. I don’t think so. I need to speak to your brother. See you at dinner?”

The sting of my words ripples over her face, and I know I’ve hurt her.

And I hope Calix will see this my way. “Cal, let’s head back. We need to talk.”