Page 77 of Of Stars and Lightning (Sun and Shadows #1)

She relaxed at his gesture. He didn’t blame her for finding his presence unnerving—even without concealment he’d been told he was not the most approachable sight. Still, he couldn’t stop himself from drawing closer, ensnared by her puzzling existence.

With a light chuckle, she picked up another knife. “I suppose it depends on who you ask.”

She took her throwing stance once more, this time following his advice and closing her stance a few steps. This time, when she swirled and threw the blade, it slammed proudly into the tree’s middle.

The woman beamed, her hands clasping together with an infectious satisfaction. “These knives are hard to throw properly,” she said, waltzing to where they collected at the base of the tree trunk.

“Thank you.”

Cas nodded, recognizing it the perfect time to walk away and continue his way to the apothecary. Before he could tear his attention away from her, she waved him over. “Any idea how to make the throw more lethal instead of just an inconvenience?”

His body flared with warnings, bells and rolls of nerves bubbling in his blood at her beckon. He should not get closer. Out of his whole court, Cas remained the most cautious—and yet he strode to her anyway, damning the panic prickling at his neck.

Not all good sense eluded him, as he stopped far away so that she’d have difficulty peering at his face through his lowered hood. However, she didn’t try to. She merely watched him, waiting for his instructions.

Kneeling to be at eye level, he motioned to the knives. “The force comes from you. Not the quality or make of the blade.”

“So, I should work out, then?”

Cas laughed. “Well, yes. But also finding the right movement to use the strength you already possess. Throwing mid swirl may be showy, but you’ll get the best focus just throwing from a stagnant position.”

She pursed her full, rose-stained lips and tapped her fingers on her knees. “Interesting. Are you a hunter?”

The question surprised him. “Sort of.” Not a total lie—he just hunted things other than animals.

The woman stood. “My friend has the largest collection of weapons in the South—they’re Northern and Eastern imports.” She pointed behind her with a thumb.

Now that he was closer, Cas saw the storefront fancied bows and beautiful swords behind its glass enclosures. A small, carved sign above the entrance read, HOLDEN’S ARCHERY.

“Holden?” he asked. That’s your friend's name—but what’s yours?

“Ah, no.” Emotion blanketed her fine, elegant features. Cas chided himself for even asking. “Holden was a friend. But he unfortunately passed away last week. My friend Leo runs this store now.”

Another name. But not hers.

“Did he teach you to throw those?” His questions wouldn’t stop. The words lined up in his mouth, unwilling to stop her from speaking.

She nodded. “Yeah. But he gets rather frustrated at my stubbornness.” As if finally realizing she conversed with a stranger in the middle of the night, she took a few steps back, coming to stand between the fire lamps. “Are you lost? You aren’t local.”

“No. To both your questions.”

Her gaze fluttered to the paper still in his hand, the map and advertisement to Lora’s apothecary. A gleam blazed to life in her eyes. “That’s my aunt’s store! Were you in need of healing?”

His heart stuttered. His lungs followed, hitching the breath in his chest until it burned and his vision wavered. Once so eager, he swallowed his words. There’s no way.

When he only stood there, chest heaving and struck stupid, the woman angled her head, finally trying to see his face. Cas stumbled backward. “I—uh… no. I just found this on the floor.”

She seemed slightly sad at that, her lips—gods those lips— pulling into a pout. “I wrote all those by hand, you know. Next time, I’ll use a premade seal.”

It seemed he had forgotten how to breathe or speak, as he just continued to hover like an idiot. This girl could still be anyone—a woman named Lora could have a niece in this town and it be a totally different family than the one they sought.

Cas straightened, snapping the sealing the gaps in his composure with a small nod in farewell. “It was lovely meeting you, Miss.”

He turned away before she responded. A fractured piece of him wished she’d come after him, revealing her name to be something mundane to calm the roar in his head.

She called to him, but he kept moving, anchoring a tendril of Shadows over the corner he’d overtaken to pull him away from her magnetic pull.

Once he cleared it, he slumped back on the building, raising his face cover and willing his heartbeat to resume a healthy rhythm.

He wanted so badly to squash the whispers in his stomach. The laughing, cackling stings of seemingly sentient misfortune that plagued him, that he’d learned to live with so far.

There was no clear indication his bloodline was cursed by any otherworldly being, his tattoo courtesy of Irene the closest thing to a pest he had to bear—but gods did he sometimes wonder if Warren took joy in his suffering.

Loumallet had always been silent, just his Shadows loitering around for Cas to use and hope the deity wasn’t keeping a sort of tally.

But Warren… Cas felt him, white hot and never giving him a moment of solitude.

If this girl with forest green eyes and hair as radiant as the morning sun ended up being who his gut whispered she was, he didn’t know what he’d do with himself.

“Sol!”

Cas straightened at the male voice coming from where they had been, Wards sizzling along his forearms.

“Sol, are you ready?” The voice called again.

Sol.

Sol.

“Yeah, I just—” the woman spoke, followed by footsteps in Cas's direction. He retreated further into the alley, but her footsteps stopped before reaching it. “I met someone strange out here,” she finished with a sigh.

“I told you to stay inside with me,” the man said, but the sound of heavier footsteps marching toward the woman. Toward Sol.

“I was right outside and no one is ever out this late,” she retorted. “Anyway, yeah. Let’s get out of here.”

The tension strung over Cas’s shoulders slacked when the man and Sol strode to the opposite alley. She cast glances to where Cas hid, but he blended enough with the night that she gave up and laced an arm through the man’s.

“You think your aunt will have stew made?” the man asked.

Sol shrugged. “I can ask her to make some if she doesn’t.”

“Or you can give me the recipe so I can have some always at the ready.”

Cas slithered closer, as if pulled by the growing distance.

She laughed, the sound like the sweetest of symphonies. “It’s a Yarrow family recipe, Leo. I haven’t even told Mariyah and she hates me for leaving her with angry customers when I’m gone.”

Cas watched her figure fade, staring at the space long after she was gone.

When the sun began to rise, he began his walk back to the Hound, all the while wondering what he’d done to deserve such a cruel strike of irony.