Page 71 of A Touch of Stars and Stones (Kirrian #1)

“Get out!” Orion blusters, and he looks like he’s ready to explode. “Get out. Both of you.”

Ten doesn’t move, but the tension in the room feels like it might crack the windows. I want answers, but we won’t win like this. The man I faced the first time here stands before me, stubborn with arrogance and power.

“Ten, he won’t tell us anything like this.”

“He doesn’t have a choice anymore.”

“He seems to be exercising his choice to remain quiet pretty fucking effectively.”

The battle of wills continues to play out. “This isn’t over.” Ten levels the words at his father, who shows no response. He turns and storms out, and I’m reminded of exactly how I felt leaving the Great Hall after my own confrontation with him.

“Where are we going now?”

“I’m not going back to the training residence,” Ten states.

“Okay.”

“We’ll go to see my mother.”

“When was the last time you saw her?” I ask as he starts to turn one way, then the other.

“Weeks,” he’s blunt with his answer.

“And you’re sure we shouldn’t go back to the training residence?” I check.

“If there’s really an attack, it will be contained by the Warriors quickly. And if they are coming for you, then I’m not taking you anywhere you’d usually be. We can check on my mother and then head back.”

“Do you really think this could be about my parents?” I’m not brave enough to ask with words aloud.

“I think we should consider every scenario until we’re told something that makes sense. Everything’s a possibility right now.”

He takes my hand and brings it to his mouth, kissing it quickly before releasing me—a silent end to that conversation.

It feels like an age since I first met his mother, and the encounter was far from normal. So much has transpired since, but nerves seem to flutter about as Ten leads us through the maze of corridors towards the rooms he used to call home.

Just as outside of his father’s office, Ten ignores the Warriors stationed at the door to his family home. They do not stop or question us, and it makes me wonder what use they would be if we were targeted for an attack?

“Mother?” Ten calls as he enters the hallway. I hover back and take in the elegance of the space, on a par with the apartment I stayed in when I first arrived.

He walks through and opens a door into a formal room. Keeping a respectable distance, I follow.

“Mother?” His voice is gentle, and he steps inside.

It’s light and airy from the huge glass panes covering one side of the room. Celestine Ciro sits in a chair, staring out the window as if in her own world.

Even I can see that she has aged since our last encounter at the dinner. Lines have encroached on her face, and her hair is now streaked with silver threads, glinting in the light.

Ten kneels at her side, and I watch her smile light up her face as recognition sweeps over her features.

“Aten. How lovely.”

“Hi, Mother. Is everything okay?” he asks.

“Of course, of course.” Her voice is light with a musical lilt.

“I’m sorry I’ve not visited recently.” He sits back on one of the chairs in the room. “Do you remember Ever?” Ten turns to me, and so does Celestine.

Her eyes seem clouded as she stares at me, and I wonder if she’d have used her power to feel me out if she still could. She certainly doesn’t look like the same woman who warned me not to question her all those weeks ago.

“I remember,” she says, but I think she’d say that even if she didn’t.

“We’re going to stay here for a while. I’ll make tea if you’d like some.” Ten picks up the tray on the table.

“Yes… yes. Tea.”

Ten nods to the stuffed sofa in front of the table, and I take a seat, not feeling awkward at all.

Celestine keeps her eyes on me like she’s trying to remember something. I glance back and check Ten’s out of the room, and then, very carefully, I push my power out towards her, not confident to go and take her hand in case I inflict the same curse on her as I do her son.

There’s not the usual hum, but rather a small light I sense. A glow. Perhaps a result of the Transference and what magic she retains. “Hello, dear.” Her voice sounds more confident, as if my mental intrigues jolted her awake.

“Do you feel me?” I ask.

“Why yes. You haven’t mastered the finesse to toy unnoticed. Although perhaps…” her voice fades, and she turns back to the window as if the strands of conversation have floated away.

Ten walks in, a tray in hand. It’s a strange sight, him carrying a teapot and cups, but there’s something about it that’s so utterly normal, my throat tightens. After everything that’s happened today… Stars above, how is it still the same day? How is he being so normal after what he did?

A wave of exhaustion breaks over me, and the soft cushions seem to pull me in tighter, beckoning me to grow comfy in their embrace. Light still lingers in the sky, possibly the longest day of my life, and I’m more than happy for it to end.

Ten pours a cup of tea and hands it to his mother, who still seems more interested in what’s happening outside, although there’s nothing in her line of sight.

He offers me one, too, and I gladly take it as he sits down. “You must be hungry, too. When was the last time you ate?”

“Breakfast,” I admit.

“I’ll get us something.”

“No. Wait a minute.” He stares at me as if conflicted between staying and offering me sustenance. Guilt unfurls in my gut at the distance I allowed to form between us. Both of us are at fault.

He breaks his internal debate and looks at his mother, who seems to be lost in her own thoughts, the silence eating at Ten, for he’s standing in the next moment. I don’t want to be left here with her, so I force my limbs to answer my intent and follow him.

“Ten!” I whisper-shout at him. “Is she okay?” I ask after his mother first.

“The Transference,” he answers and then turns down a hallway and into another room that turns out to be the kitchen. “Once you gift your power as an Advocate, it can take a toll on you.”

“I’m so sorry.” I don’t know what else to say, but I think of Lyle, and a pang of sorrow fills my chest. “Is she suffering?”

Ten swallows. “It’s a fact of life here.

Warriors are less affected after the ceremony and can often keep their positions if they are high enough in command.

But other Orders are hit differently. They’re affected in different ways.

I’d never considered what would happen to her after.

I’ve not visited, and I should have.” A soft wave of guilt brushes up against me, hitting me in the chest: Ten’s guilt.

I didn’t have to focus my power to feel this and wonder just how heavily he’s hurting if his emotions are this heightened.

He sets about pulling bread and what looks like cheese and cold cuts from the larder, off the kitchen, and I’m surprised that there isn’t someone?—

“What are you doing, Master Ciro? Please. Please. Allow me.” An older gentleman bustles into the kitchen, shocked to find Aten gathering supplies. He must be in his late sixties by the look of his worn and lined skin, and the set of bushy white eyebrows resting above shrewd eyes.

“I’m just fixing something for us, Rigel. Ever’s not eaten since this morning.”

“Oh my. No no no.” Rigel plucks the supplies from Ten and puts them on the counter before adding to them himself, pulling things from the cupboards around him.

“There’s no need to go to any trouble, please,” I start, but Rigel cuts me a withering look that tells me it isn’t the right thing to say.

“Shoo. Shoo.” He fans his hands and ushers us both from the kitchen.

“I forgot how territorial he is about his kitchen.” Ten rolls his eyes.

“Sorry. But at least you’ll be properly fed now.

We can wait in here.” He walks back towards where we first entered the home, but opens another door leading to a small, formal dining room, the table only big enough to seat four.

“I really don’t need…”

“There’s no point in arguing now. He won’t be told.”

Fine. I’m too tired to fight over this. My eyes scan the room he’s taken us into.

“I would have thought your father might have had a much grander room than this.” There are no windows, but the lush greens and golds of the papered walls make it look decadent and cosy rather than opulent or over the top.

The furniture is minimal and practical, with a silver tray sitting atop a side table, complementing the dining table and chairs.

“This is the one I used. I’d eat with my mother or on my own. Dinners with the family were never high on the fun list.” He pulls out a chair for me, and I sit.

“Should we ask your mother to join us?”

“Rigel will ask. But… she seems out of sorts.”

A moment later, Rigel comes through and places a tray on the table holding a pitcher of water, silver goblets, and a bottle of what I can only assume is wine. In some ways, it’s the perfect end to a turbulent day.

But as I stare at the formality, my emotions start to bubble over as if resting for only a moment gives them the time to take over, and my smile and burst of laughter disintegrate into hot, messy tears.

“Hey, hey hey…” Ten grabs my hand, but I pull away as my tears run harder.

“It… just… hit… me….” I sniffle and pant the words through the hysteria as my breath catches in unbalanced huffs.

Ten pulls me against him, ignoring my protest, lifts me from my chair, and wraps me in his arms, and the sense of someone with me, shouldering my pain and easing my fears, is everything I need, everything I long for.

But the unyielding set of his body tells me he’s uncomfortable, so I fight to pull back. And he lets me.

“I’m sorry… but your emotions…” He sucks in a ragged breath as he fists his hands against the table.

Emotions, clearly pain, but no images or visions. Although the contact was quick.

All I want is to hold him, and the realisation that we will never be able to have a simple relationship cuts deeper than anything I’ve already endured.

The hysteria starts to subside with my sobering thought, and sorrow chases my tears back, a haunting and dark feeling that threatens to pull me in deeper.

“Just give me a minute.” He gazes up at me, and his face looks as full of despair as I feel. “I will learn, Ever, to shield so I can hold you like you want. Touch you like you deserve.”

His declaration springs fresh tears, but also a shy smile.

I want that, too. So much, my chest aches, my heart aches, as if answering his one hope.

Rigel interrupts but doesn’t look put out by me standing next to Ten as he sets down another tray, this time laden with food. To my delight, small bread rolls rest in a small basket alongside plates of food.

He takes a step back and nods his head to Ten before leaving us.

“No pastries, but Rigel is always good at making a meal out of a few ingredients. Sit.” He nods at the chair, and I take my seat. His hand wraps around the chair leg, and he tugs it to him as if he needs me as close as possible without touching before passing me the basket of bread.