Page 8 of Of Stars and Lightning (Sun and Shadows #1)

Five

THE LAND OF LIGHT MAGIC

LORA MADE SOL sit in the center of their living room with nothing but the cold floor beneath her. After Sol had nothing but her nails to mess with, her aunt spoke.

And Sol listened.

Lora told tales of her past and everything in between, and Sol simply…

listened. She was engaged in the stories at first, but about halfway through and an hour in, she just focused instead on a spot on the wall, tracing the delicate cracks and peeling wallpaper with her gaze as the stories swam in and out of focus.

Rimemere was the primary domain of the Wielders, as it held the temples of the Original Creators, the gods who granted them their magic.

The Rimemere natives mostly lived in the center of the kingdom, students of the royal houses within a castle made of stone and marble, while the ones not affiliated with nobility, or those without magic, staggered around the hilly outskirts of the territory.

The Rimemere Wielders trained from childhood to master their gifts, tutored by experienced militia or top apprentices of their element.

There were only a handful of Wielder bloodlines left, the Yarrows being the oldest recorded.

Others who had competed closely were wiped out by war or enemies.

Ivet Yarrow had been the matron of her bloodline, establishing order and law during the land’s infancy.

From her, all her direct descendants had been gifted the magic of Warding—creating ripples in time to shield themselves or others.

Sol’s mother had mastered the blessing so immensely she had been one of the most respected and feared queens to ever rule.

Sol stopped listening after that. She tried to regain focus multiple times, but jumped into an unbelievable sentence, then another even wilder one. She refused to register it. Refused to let this new identity sink its claws into her.

Because then it made the madness real.

Still, a small part betrayed her. The part of her that whispered of all the wonders her mother told—recounted—and begged her to accept the possibility it might all be real. Despite the magic she had seen that night, Sol still couldn't quite believe it.

The final straw had been when Lora said, “And you are the direct heir to the throne.”

White noise danced in her head. Static clouded her vision.

Sol had never so much as led a shift at the Hound. The idea of leading a kingdom seemed impossibly foreign. Not to mention, she had no magic. What would they say of her, especially if her own mother had been such a force to be reckoned with?

Her mother.

She was a stranger.

Sol met her aunt’s gaze through the haze. “My mother lied to me.”

Lora sighed; the wooden chair she situated in front of Sol groaned as she sat. “She couldn’t tell you, Sol. If she told you, it meant she’d have to Awaken your magic, and she couldn’t do that.”

“She lied to me.”

“She had to.” Her aunt stood, walking to Sol, and kneeling by her side.

Gently, she grasped her hands. “I know there are a lot of answers we owe you, dove. I know. We will answer them for you. Your mother loved you more than anything in the world, and she chose to protect you until the very end.” A moment of swollen silence passed.

Then Sol whispered, “Why am I being told this now? What do I have to do with anything?”

That was clearly the question Lora wished to avoid.

“I wish I could continue to honor her wish and keep you here, hidden and away from everything she fled. But I cannot. Not with the Jinn in Yavenharrow, not with them and everyone else knowing you exist. You’re the heiress to the throne, Sol.

You’re needed to restore balance in Rimemere.

” Sol’s breath hitched. She couldn’t focus as she braced herself for what she knew was coming.

“And that’s the safest place for you,” Lora finished.

“No.” She felt her body shake, her vision blurring with unwelcome tears.

“I will meet you there, dove.” Lora took her chin in her hand. Her eyes were clear, focused. If she had any fear or reservations about the plan of action, she didn’t show it.

Sol, however, had nothing but reservations. Her disagreement was loud, physically, and mentally.

“Why? Why did you keep this secret from me?” she asked again, as if somehow the right answer would be spoken, one that would ease the sting of betrayal.

Lora pursed her lips and sighed. “Your mother asked me to. I—I didn’t want to intervene with her plans for you. Not until I had no other choice, which now I don’t.”

Through her desire to run, to flee and melt into the grasslands if it meant not dealing with this, Sol said, “I’m not going anywhere without you, Aunt Lora.”

Lora smiled at her, sweet and tender, as she brushed a golden strand behind Sol’s ear. “I will be close behind. I have some things to take care of here. I must make sure these people are protected.”

Sol straightened. “You have magic too?”

Lora eased them from the floor to stand, her hands still grasping Sol’s. “No, dove. But there are things other than a god’s magic at our disposal.”

Before Sol could inquire further, her aunt gently pushed her toward her room, the patter of rain echoing inside the cottage. “Sleep, Sol. We will regroup in the morning.”

Solemnly, mechanically, Sol slid into her room. She didn’t think or change into a nightgown before flopping onto the mattress and closing her eyes, praying to whatever god would listen that she would wake up and the day would have all been a cruel, insane nightmare.

IRENE’S VOICE WAVERED as if muffled by water. Words eased in and out of focus, taunting Sol. “What are you so afraid of, Soleil?”

Sol looked around, trying to locate where the achingly familiar voice came from, but her vision was clouded by shadows and mist. There was nothing but darkness beyond her, but she swore the air shimmered with specks of gold.

“Soleil, don’t be afraid.”

She swirled, the voice mere inches from her now. But there was nothing. There was no one.

“Mom?” Sol whispered. She shivered as a blast of cold wrapped around her.

“You’ve always been destined for this. You can’t outsmart destiny, Soleil. Trust me, I tried.”

The voice came from above her now, and when she looked up, she froze.

She recognized her mother’s glacier-blue eyes, her black hair cascading over her face and toward Sol as her figure hovered in the air. But the closer Sol looked, the more Irene distorted into a stranger, something with blue skin and rotting bones. With milky, soulless eyes and sharp, eager teeth.

The thing smiled, and the voice that came out of it was no longer her mother’s. “We can’t wait for the Yarrows to finish what they started.”

Sol jolted awake.

She sat up and wrapped her arms around herself to soothe the shivers, then ran a hand over her sweaty forehead. Nightmares were common. She had always been plagued by them, especially when she slept alone. But that…

“It’s going to be a long day,” she whispered to the air, turning to look out her window. The sun barely peeked from behind the horizon, casting the hills and grasslands in a light pink.

To steady herself, she studied the tangible things around her.

To her left was a small washroom with a wooden tub she had spent nearly two months’ worth of tips to purchase, and a delicately carved armoire, the decorative indentations courtesy of her mother.

In front of her were her personal bookshelves, littered with romance novels she swapped regularly with Mina.

She also kept all the notes and parchments Leo had handed down to her in small boxes there.

She placed her palm on her chest to calm her breaths, flinching when she felt the cold metal chain resting there.

That encounter on the docks had been almost as bizarre as being told magic was real. Sol had thrown the necklace on without much interest after, but now, as she zipped the pendant back and forth on the chain, she thought perhaps she should have at least had a mage bless it.

The fragrant smell of carrots, onion, and garlic from the front yard greeted her beyond the closed door, and she sighed at the promise of stew waiting.

She showered and got dressed quickly, throwing on a casual pair of khaki trousers and a black blouse before walking to stand in front of her closed bedroom door.

With a heavy sigh and a knot in her throat, she pushed it open.

Lora leaned over a steaming pot of stew in the kitchen, the morning sunlight streaming through the window beside her. Jars of herbs were open and out of order, proof she had truly tried to craft Sol’s favorite food to perfection.

Her aunt gave her a small smile and pushed a bowl forward.

Sol tried her hardest to seem angry still, despite all of it subsiding after seeing Lora’s regretful expression.

Lora said, “I’m sorry for not telling you, Sol. Truce?”

After a beat of silence, Sol sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. “Just— no more secrets, right?”

Lora shook her head. “Whatever you don’t know, I don’t either, dove.”

They each ate two bowls of stew and a whole loaf of bread, the sounds of the awakening town lively beyond the walls of the cottage.

Their cottage was small but comfortable compared to their previous one. When Irene was alive, the three of them had lived by the Old Square in a two-story home made of stone and wood. The house had been enormous for Sol as a child, but it only became bigger after the murder tainted it.

Lora and Sol had moved to the outskirts of town, sealing their old life and home with a heavy metal lock they removed only for monthly maintenance.

Sol ate quickly, adrenaline and anticipation making her nauseous. After thirty minutes of forced bites, they made their way back to the Hound Inn.

They hadn’t spoken about it. Of Sol’s impending departure. Its promise hung thick between them during their walk. So thick, in fact, that Sol decided to finally address it as they neared the town's main streets.

“I’m still not going with them,” she declared. “No matter how much stew you bribe me with.”

Lora chuckled. “That obvious, huh?”

“I don’t know them, Aunt Lora. I can’t leave everything behind and trust some strangers.”

“They’re strangers to you, I suppose. But your mother and I were very close to their parents. I knew Nina and Casimir as children as well. Briefly, but they haven't changed.”

Sol peered sideways at her to urge her on, but she didn’t have to.

Her aunt continued, "Nina Amana is the daughter of Clarisse Amana. She was your mother’s primary handmaiden.

Clarisse was a talented Earth Caller, much like her daughter is now.

One of the few servants with magic, too.

Her family was condemned to servitude for past treasons.

“But your mother loved Clarisse, and Clarisse loved her. So Irene formally swore her into her court as her Royal Hand.” Lora smiled at the memory. “They were quite the duo when I met them in Rimemere.”

“So, where is Clarisse?” Perhaps she would have stories of Irene. Stories about her time as Queen, something to help Sol connect this new identity with who her mother was to her. Who better than a close friend?

They neared the Hound now, the other shops around bristling awake.

Lora pursed her lips, sadness coating her features.

“She— she sacrificed herself. When Irene left Rimemere, it was chaos. She and I waited for Clarisse and Axel, your uncle, at the gates. We were all meant to flee together.” Sol stopped at the beginning of the cobblestone path directly in front of the inn, her aunt doing the same as she faced her. “Only Irene and I made it.”

Sol’s heart shattered, even though she hadn’t personally known them. She looked toward the Hound, where within it was the daughter of the woman who had saved her mother’s life. "Why? Why did my mother leave?"

Her aunt shrugged. "She never told us. Only that it was life or death, and we three were the only ones able to separate from the civil war within the castle."

Sol exhaled. "Who would even question her? Wasn’t she the Queen?”

“By that time, she was undergoing trial. Her reign was taken by Semmena.”

“And that is?”

Lora opened her mouth to respond but was interrupted by a creak of hinges and a scoff.

“My useless father.”

Sol looked up to the second floor of the Inn, where a window was now open and a woman with a single black braid looked down at them. Sawyer’s dark eyes shone. “Your uncle-in-law, technically. Also, current King regent of Rimemere.”

Lora smiled up at her. “I do hope Arnold is well, Sawyer.”

Sawyer laughed. “I sure don’t.” Without another word, she disappeared beyond the wavering curtains.

Sol sighed, her attention lingering on the window. “There’s no way we are related.”

Lora arched her brow. “I kind of see it.”

“Sunny!”

Sol swirled to find Leo jogging their way, relief flooding his eyes while he threw his arms around her.

“I didn’t see you walk by last night on your way home, and I went to see if you were there just now, but you weren’t and—” He panted, holding her back by the shoulders to look at her. “I thought something happened.”

She smiled. “I’m fine, Leo.” A moment of silence, then she added, “Well, sort of.”

“Let’s talk inside, children.” Lora gestured to the Inn. “We have much to say.”