Page 5 of A Touch of Stars and Stones (Kirrian #1)

three

. . .

Ever

“ T ime to go. We have company.”

My body needed sleep more than my mind did, and it won the fight early last night. Now, it was taking a while to wake up.

“What? What company?” I muddle together.

“Uninvited. And I’ll deal with it, but you need to get ready. Go to Nettle and be ready to ride.”

“But, Lyle?—”

“Get on your horse. Now!” she cuts me off.

We lock our gazes in challenge, showing our stubborn side—the one similarity I could have inherited from Lyle. Her eyes are wide again, her jaw tight. She could have meant a hundred other things from that look, but Lyle has always wanted me safe, so I choose to hear that above anything else.

I don’t want to leave her, but I follow her command while she steps out of the cover of the stable and stands just outside the front of the house. Waiting in the open.

I stay silent as I can and make my way to Nettle. Voices filter through the woods around us, tones of men cackling to each other, stumbling through the trees, cracking twigs and rustling as they go.

She didn’t tell me to ride, so I mount Nettle and keep out of sight behind the stable, using a thin gap in the wood to spy through.

My heart hammers in my chest as I wait and watch. Why is she doing this? We could both hide or flee?

Two men walk past the house that’s crumbling to the north, and they immediately see Lyle. Their conversation stills as they slow.

She could have hidden, too. She didn’t need to do this. They are just two men; they might have never noticed us.

Both men wear a grey uniform with a bright sun emblem on their shoulders. Sunatora is across the Southern Shore Sea and brings riches to Estereah, but soldiers usually don’t venture from the towns. I only recognise the insignia from maps.

“What are you doing out here alone?” the taller one questions.

“Just travelling to Orasia.”

“For what purpose?” the other asks.

“Trade.”

“Alone?”

“None of your business. It’s a long way from Nestegarth,” Lyle turns the question back on them.

They give each other a look full of menace, and it sends my stomach hurtling to the floor. And then one draws a sword and lunges towards Lyle.

I shove my hand over my mouth to stop screaming as I watch Lyle lean back into a crouch, as if she has all the time in the world, before she pulls a dagger from her side.

Where in the world did she get that from?

She raises her hands, the one holding the dagger ready at her side, but before she has to use it, light flashes from her hand, blinding one, giving her the opening to slice the blade across his throat.

She spins in a graceful movement and raises her hand to repeat the action, but this time, the man grabs the hand holding her blade, blocking her strike. He’s closed his eyes, and his full weight is holding Lyle.

My own eyes won’t close, transfixed and holding my breath at what I’m seeing.

They grapple back and forth for her dagger, and I hear when it lands on the ground with a thud, followed by a grunt and groan from Lyle as she takes a blow to the head.

My teeth grit together, locked in a war of desperately wanting to help but not sure how, or what I can do.

Nettle seems to sense my unease and stomps the ground with his hoof, pulling his head down. I reach to stroke his neck, but that just makes it worse, and he surges forward.

“No. Wow, boy. We can’t help.” The words sound pathetic, and I curse how helpless I feel.

Nettle doesn’t get the message and rounds the stable and house, but by the time we do, Lyle is on her feet, standing over the man at her feet, the dagger back in her hand and little sparks of light at her fingertips.

I look at her, breathing heavily, addressing the carnage she brought down on the two men before her.

A sliver of pride runs through me. And relief. And shock.

She made light shine from her hands.

Not a flame, but light. Sunlight.

She killed two men.

There’s a lot to digest.

“We need to leave.” She looks up at me as she slides her blade into the little leather sheath that I’ve never seen before. I watch her gather her things, pull herself onto her horse, and join me.

Nettle makes the first steps, and Lyle’s horse follows.

“When are you going to start answering some questions? You know, they’re mounting up.” I turn back towards her, trying to force an explanation. “What’s happening to me? What did you just do?”

“Soon. When we’re clear of here.” She looks around the trees, assessing as if more men might creep out and attack.

“The bodies?” I ask.

“We’ll be long gone before anyone finds them.”

“But…”

“We ride. We’ll stop soon, and I promise I’ll start to explain things then.” With that, she lashes her reins, and her horse lunges forward, sprinting into a gallop. To my horror, Nettle follows. I cling to my reins, squeezing tightly with my thighs and pray I can stay in my saddle.

Lyle is true to her word. After only a short while at full pace, she slows and stops at a small stream. She dismounts ahead of me, and I offer a small thanks to anyone who might be listening.

My breathing slows as I jump down from Nettle, grateful to still be in one piece.

The horses head for the water, and Lyle fills one of the canisters to drink from.

“Here.” She hands me another chunk of bread. “Breakfast.”

She sits on the ground and picks at the bread. And just as I give up on ever believing she’ll speak to me, she clears her throat.

“I’m taking you to a place where magic is the norm.” She turns to look at me and holds my gaze, and I can’t work out if she’s watching for my reaction or just trying to convey the seriousness of that statement. “People with gifts—abilities—live there. They protect our world, our way of life.”

And then she stops.

Just like that.

As if we were talking about the plan for that evening’s dinner.

Nothing else comes, and I’m left with those few words.

Magic. Power.

Like the sunlight from her fingers.

“You can’t leave it like that, Lyle. That’s not an explanation.”

“It is. Everything else will come.”

“No, that’s nowhere near enough, please.”

But I’m met with infuriating silence. “So, if this court place is where magic is from, why aren’t you there?” My words are thick with accusation, my frustration from the last few days overflowing.

“I am a Watcher. My…” her eyes crinkle and brows furrow as she strains to find the words, and trepidation fills the pause between them.

I can see that this is hard for her, and it softens my heart, which had hardened under her silence on the journey.

She turns away, “My abilities are… limited. I was not blessed… I—” She stops again.

“Many of us become Watchers, checking for signs of magic outside the reach of Kirrasia and The Court. And if we find anyone who might be having difficulty or displaying… abilities, we take them home. To The Court.”

“Like you’re doing with me?”

“Yes.” She looks back up at me. Her soft blue eyes, so familiar, always looking out for me. I just never imagined it could be like this.

With murder. With magic.

And what did she mean by difficulty? Is that what my episodes have been?

“I…” But the questions I’ve been saving vanish like mist on the wind. I can tell it’s hard for Lyle to talk to me about this. She’s struggling with every word, like they are turning to glass in her mouth as she speaks. She’s avoided this conversation for as long as possible, but why?

We’ve never had a relationship involving a lot of words. It’s not been needed, and I’ve never known anything different. Yet, right now, I wish there were more words—a library of words—because the prospect of more silence between us is terrifying.

She doesn’t seem to want to say any more. She finishes the bread, then pulls herself back onto her horse and tightens her hold on the reins, allowing both of us to focus on a task rather than what’s just been said. I follow her lead, although much less gracefully.

Nettle skips forward, keeping Lyle in sight. “How far is this place?” I brave.

“Two days. We need to travel past the Jade.”

One of the best things about being a trader was all the items that came through our house and took up residence on the table.

I run my mind over all the maps or parchments I’d snuck a look at over the years.

But none of the drawings had ever charted anything past the Jade because nobody ever came back.