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“You have to concentrate,” Virgil says to Maeva.

“Intriguing,” she bites back. “Why didn’t I think of that for the last seven weeks?”

We have one more week remaining in our training sessions before we embark to find the Crógemma.

Maeva’s hand-to-hand combat is improving daily, and she no longer curses my existence for attending the morning runs.

In fact, I’d venture to say she enjoys them now that her body is accustomed to the breathing patterns.

However, even as she improves in some areas of training, the ability to summon her starlight hasn’t been quite as fruitful.

“Perhaps you could try closing your eyes and envisioning what you wish the plants to do?” Riordan pipes in with less gusto than usual. He’s probably still sulking from his loss in the practice dual this morning .

While she hasn’t yet bested me, she did disarm Riordan in their sparring session.

I found the whole affair quite entertaining.

After all, it’s not every day that one witnesses a fearsome member of the Cadre sulking over a loss.

Virgil and Laisren have taunted Riordan incessantly over such a defeat.

However, Riordan claims it’s merely his sweaty hand that caused the blade to slip free.

“Ingenious, Riordan. Truly,” she snaps.

He throws up his hands in surrender, backing away from the woman who very much resembles an angry pixie. Maeva’s determination is written all over her face as she stares at yet another hedge in another courtyard. This routine tends to go the same way every day:

She focuses on the plants. Her eyes squint ever so slightly as she extends her hand to summon her ability.

Then, after three hours without success, her anger flares, and the starlight illuminates her body, but anything she touches at that point only wilts further or shrivels into dust. Once that occurs, she stomps off, muttering under her breath until she’s back in her chambers once more.

This courtyard is the only one we’ve yet to practice in, and so far, this time is like the others.

“Perhaps you need to look at this from a different angle,” Virgil says.

Maeva sucks in a sharp breath before turning her fiery gaze on him, and I swear the bloody atmosphere chills. There’s the slightest twitch of her nose as it scrunches—a sure sign that she’s irritated. “Which angle might that be, Virgil?” she retorts, gesturing to the courtyard around us.

“Perhaps your ability isn’t manifesting because you haven’t had the proper motivation,” he replies, ignoring the scorn in her voice.

The muscles around her eyes spasm as she clenches and unclenches her fists.

If I didn’t know any better, I’d think she’s contemplating driving one of those beautiful fists into the side of his face.

Since Virgil has a death wish today, he draws out one of the short knives from his boot.

Then the dimwit points the blade right at Maeva.

“For all the love of bloody Celestae,” I murmur. “Everyone just calm down. ”

“We’re supposed to help her learn how to heal, not destroy, Virgil,” Laisren warns.

Virgil’s mouth quirks. “Exactly,” he replies. Then he slides the blade down his forearm, creating a deep, oozing gash—dripping with blood. He hisses as he drops the weapon back into his boot.

The irritation carved into Maeva’s features just moments ago dissolves as she rushes to him, a flicker of her starlight dancing in her hands. Her eyes track the blood flowing in rivulets down to his fingertips. “Why would you do that, you fool?” she hisses.

“Have you lost your bloody mind, mate?” Riordan asks, incredulous.

Maeva reaches for his arm, but Virgil steps out of her grasp. “No,” he says softly.

“No?” Maeva asks. “You’re hurt. I need to help you.”

“Not with your touch,” he replies, nodding down to the starlight that lingers softly in her hands. “Use your ability.”

Maeva looks from her hands back to his crimson-streaked arm in contemplation. I can practically see the wheels turning in her head as she weighs out her options. Her breathing shallows as she shakes her head. “What if I hurt you?” she whispers.

Virgil smiles at the trembling woman. “You won’t,” he says. “You can do this, Little Star.”

Maeva worries her lip as indecision paralyzes her.

Little Star?

There’s something in their connection—their closeness—that rattles me. My chest tightens, as a sharp tug in my mind calls to me. It feels like a warning to be cautious, yet I can’t help but wonder once again: Why are they so close?

I understand my connection with Maeva, but her attachment to him is… different. I sense it, but from the first moment we met Maeva, there’s always been a level of comfort between them. She’s never attempted to get as close with Laisren and Riordan, so perhaps that’s why it bothers me so much ?

However, as my fourth commander watches the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, there’s something there that can’t be mistaken: love.

He loves her.

It’s evident in the way his eyes light up every time she does well or when he hears her laugh.

Perhaps it’s merely adoration.

Regardless, their connection reminds me of…

I can’t quite remember?—

Suddenly, a pressure in my skull tightens, as if it were a vise grip—the thoughts continuing to swirl around. Then I hear it. Somewhere deep within my subconscious, a muffled, melodic laugh rings out.

“Are you coming, Emyreus?” A sweet, sing-song voice echoes.

No.

This isn’t what I’m trying to remember.

But, it is too late.

Suddenly, it’s as if I’ve been launched into a moment of time when I was just a boy following the now blurry image of an eleven-year-old girl:

She stops abruptly when we round the edge of the Galrosan palace. Then, I see them: two sentries patrolling the grounds. She pulls me behind a large shrub, placing her hand over my mouth, just as the approaching footsteps grow louder.

Surely, they saw us when we rounded the corner.

We aren’t supposed to be out here without a detail following us, but it was her ludicrous idea to sneak away.

I should’ve tried harder to be the voice of reason to her little scheme, but somehow I didn’t have the heart to tell her no.

Within a few moments, the footsteps grow louder, as do the voices.

“Shhh,” she whispers.

I suck in a breath—certain that we’ll be caught.

However, they pass by our location without so much as a second glance at the shrubbery.

I release a breath.

When all of this is said and done, perhaps I should inform my father about the lack of skill his soldiers seem to have, if they can’t sense two hiding children.

“Come on! I need to show you something,” she beckons.

Then, she’s running across the courtyard toward the open woods.

“Come on, Emyreus,” she laughs.

No! My mind screams, shutting down the memory.

I’m back in the present, and everything is spinning rapidly.

I close my eyes, forcing the throbbing pain away.

I fear that the torrents of my mind will give way at any moment.

One day, the pressure will become too much, and what I’ve locked deep within will rush back to the surface.

I normally lock out the memories from my childhood, yet this one threatens to break free.

“Open your eyes, Emyreus,” the girl’s voice calls out again, trying to pull me back into that moment.

I won’t ever go back to that day.

I can’t go back!

“Please?” Her warbled voice pleads.

Perhaps I should entertain it just this once…

No, I scold myself.

The echo of her voice haunts me one final time as I slam the mental door. “It’s such a beautiful thing, isn’t it?”

I release a deep breath as the pressure that was mounting just moments ago dissipates.

She’s gone, and so is the memory.

I’m not that thirteen-year-old boy in that courtyard anymore. Instead, I’m a man standing in a courtyard, but with a different woman from the memory of the girl that I barricade in my mind.

Maeva’s face is furrowed in concentration as she watches starlight whirling in her trembling hands.

She stands there frozen, while Virgil’s blood slowly drips onto the cobblestone.

Laisren jabs me in the shoulder, tilting his head in her direction.

“Say something to her,” he whispers. “She listens to you. ”

“She listens to him too,” I mumble.

He nudges me once more. “Right now, she isn’t, and she needs you,” he replies sternly.

I shoot him a grimace over my shoulder, turning my attention back to Maeva once more. I step in front of her, blocking her view of Virgil. “Rosey,” I say softly.

Her deep blue eyes are glazed over as she looks up at me. “I-I can’t do this,” she sobs.

“Yes, you can,” I say encouragingly. I place my hands on her rigid shoulders, the contact immediately setting my heart at ease.

“You’ve already done this once before,” I whisper.

“You made bloody flowers bloom with your tears, and I suspect you unknowingly summoned it when you were in Aurelius. You can do this, Maeva.”

She sighs heavily. “How do you know I won’t kill him?” she asks.

“Because it’s a part of your very essence.

It’s in your nature to heal what is broken,” I say.

Then I pull away, moving to stand behind her.

She allows the most subtle touch of my hand against her arm, and her tension eases slightly.

“Now,” I say, “I want you to concentrate on where his injury lies.”

She takes a deep breath and nods.

“Perfect,” I say. “Focus on mending where the blade sliced his flesh. Imagine your starlight wrapping around it to close the wound, and then have enough confidence in yourself to release it.”

She laughs nervously, as her starlight snakes toward Virgil’s bloodied arm. “Virgil, I hope you trust me enough for this,” she says.

Virgil smiles at her with such a deep warmth. “With my life, Little Star,” he replies.

She nods.