by J. A. Comley
“My family thought I was born around twenty-one years ago. A doctor was called to check my health when they found me, and he said he thought I was around six months old at the time.” She opened the zip and slid her baby bracelet from her pocket. “This was around my wrist when I was found.”
In a silver flash of light, the High Lord's staff appeared in his waiting left hand. He sat up straighter, taking the bracelet and murmured a few quick words. It began to glow white.
“See?” he said, his excitement overflowing. “This was made with metal from mined in Cosmaltia's Silver Sea, before the war. And the engraving looks like Brosney work, Cosmaltian—”
“Metalsmiths,” Starla finished, chuckling as his eyebrows shot up. “I've been asking around the refugee camp, but no-one knew anything more than that.”
He chuckled too, suddenly understanding all the murmurings of Starla's name he had heard coming from the tents.
Starla's eyes sparkled with joy and hope. “Do you think my parents fled to Earth when the war started?”
He frowned, a dark thought playing on the edges of his mind.
“Perhaps, if they could. The war began twenty-one years ago,” he said, sitting up straighter. “It is unclear how, exactly, but despite the lockdown on planetary travel, hundreds of people are simply missing. With any luck, they made a jump somewhere else. Otherwise, Kyron probably has them.” He moved and knelt right in front of her, his knees touching hers. “There is a Healing pattern that will allow me to tell if your body's ageing has slowed.”
Starla felt fear and doubt grip her.
Do I really want to know?
Seeing the hope sparkling in his eyes and all that that made her hopeful for, she nodded.
“Okay.”
Larkel moved closer, his eyes tight, but in his mind, she could feel the fire straining for release.
“Lie back.”
Her heart missed at least three beats as she complied, and he shifted again so that he could angle himself over her.
He took a deep breath, his face going still, all concentration blocking the fire in his eyes. Larkel placed one hand gently above her heart. He felt its beat increase to match his own as her own desire spiked.
She breathed a laugh below him as he fought to remain focused and had to start again.
With the other hand, he carefully leaned the topmost crystal of his staff against her left temple. Closing his eyes, he sent the spell into her body, looking for the tell-tale signs.
Starla felt his presence searching, then stiffen and withdraw.
Larkel broke off the spell, leaning away and sitting up. The expression on his face made words unnecessary. Starla felt the tears stinging her eyes. She was human, after all, and still ageing fast.
“Starla, this doesn't make sense. Your magic and the bracelet—” he said, mind racing through possibilities. He shied away from Soreiaphin legends. “As far as we know, you're right at the limit of when your ageing can possibly start to slow. Maybe the doctor was wrong, and you're younger than you seem. Or, perhaps your birth was hurried along with magic. It is dangerous, but not necessarily impossible—” he began, sounding happier.
“No.” She stopped him and rose to her feet, not sure how much longer she could hold back the crushing disappointment the failed test had brought. “Thank you, Larkel, for a wonderful day. Good night. See you tomorrow?” She didn't turn from the cottage door.
He rose fluidly and caught her hand as she reached for the handle. The pain in her eyes had been obvious. “I'm sorry. Don't give up. There are still other possibilities.”
She gave him her rarest smile, the one he seemed to like best, the one that hinted at some great, secret happiness and squeezed his hand gently.
Smiling in return, he leaned in and gave her a gentle but lingering kiss on her cheek. “Happy birthday,” he whispered in her ear. “See you tomorrow.”
He began to pull away, and she placed a hand against his cheek, her eyes burning, but not with tears.
His hands trailed down her arms then settled around her waist. Her body shuddered, but she didn't look away, fingers trailing lightly over his lips, making him shiver in turn.
The burning in their minds seemed to crest, joining together as their lips met, heat blossoming all over their bodies.
The kiss was nothing like what she had been imagining. The bond allowed them flashes of each other’s thoughts and scalding emotions, raising their own feelings higher as it was mirrored back again and again as their lips moved together, growing more urgent.
She felt herself get pushed against the door as Larkel drew himself against her and a soft gasp escaped her lips as his began to trail down her neck.
A sudden slash of darkness broke through his mind, and he pulled away from her, closing the bond and breathing hard.
She watched his back for a moment and shook her head. It was probably for the best that nothing more happened. She was human. She would die thousands of years before him. It wasn't worth causing him all that pain.
“Good night, Larkel.”
He took a few more deep breaths and turned, feeling empty as the cottage door shut her from his view.
“Good night.”
He cursed himself for getting carried away. He had promised himself that he wouldn't cross that line until she knew everything and chose him anyway.
Turning away, he saw her baby bracelet still shining in the grass. Picking it up, he raised his hand to knock on the door, then he thought better of returning it right away, not only because he wasn't sure he could restrain himself again so soon, but also because the bracelet would have a maker's mark on it. If he could find out who made it, he could help her track down her family. That would be a good birthday present to give her. It would also settle the question of her heritage, once and for all.
Taking one last look at the cottage, the light of a lamp now glowing within, the High Lord strode back towards the opulent manor of his friends.
Starla sat in a comfortable blue armchair, watching the oil of the lamp burn slowly away, the fire in her chest fading with it.
Human. It didn't make sense. Was that why Larkel had pulled away, or was it because she'd been unable to stop her mind from comparing this kiss to the one Raoul had given her? She shook her head sadly. None of this would have mattered if she hadn't fallen in love with Larkel in the first place. She was only meant to have stayed here to find out about her family and hand over the Star to someone who knew what to do with it.
Then I'm supposed to go back.
She sighed at the deep emptiness that accompanied that thought. Back to being the odd orphan girl. Back to Raoul. How could she ever change her feelings towards him, now? Deep down, she knew she couldn't, not now that she had felt actual love.
Her bitter laugh was cut short as someone knocked on the door.
“Eben, is everything all right?” Starla asked. According to the amount of oil left in the lamp, it had been over two hours since the High Lord had left, since his kiss had set her blood on fire, her skin seeming alive with tiny bursts of lightning.
“Yes, sorry to bother you, but I saw the light and thought you might still be awake.” He smiled and, hanging his own lamp on a hook, turned to the darkness by the door and lifted up two packages.
“Happy birthday.”
Starla looked from the presents up to the cheeky grin on the big man's face. “How did—”
“Larkel,” Eben said, half-rolling his honey eyes at her as if that should have been obvious. “You didn't really think you could tell him it was your birthday and expect him to do nothing? The larger one is from him, the other, from me and my family.”
“Thank you, you really didn't have to … thank you.” Starla smiled, a sudden, happy thought popping into her head as she accepted the presents. “But you could have waited until morning.”
Eben laughed. “I have known Larkel all my life. He said you needed to receive your gift before the morning because you'd need it tomorrow. After
so many years, it is easier to just go with it. He always has a good reason for what he asks, even if he is terrible at telling anyone what it is. Have a good evening, Starla.”
Starla bit down the question she wanted to ask. It could wait. “Good night, Eben. Thank you again. And thank your parents and sister too.”
Eben nodded and waved goodnight over his shoulder.
Back inside, Starla carefully opened her gifts. Feeling her anticipation grow, Starla undid the golden bow on Larkel's gift. Inside was the deep-purple dress with the black lace that she had turned down that first day at Savianna's. She shook her head at the opulent tunic, wondering what occasion could have her needing to dress like Galatian higher nobility.
Eben and his family had given her a beautiful, black Galatian hair clip, with purple jewels forming the centres of three carved flowers. A perfect match to Larkel's gift.
Wondering what his plans were, Starla clung to the happy thought that Eben had brought with him; Larkel's best friend was a human man whose parents were more than two thousand years old. With a little of their elixir, she could stay young too.
8
The High Lord
“Where is she?” demanded the High Lord, bursting into the mansion, his power rolling off him in waves that made his hair dance like it was caught in a high wind.
“Larkel, please, calm down,” Eben said, following his friend as he rushed upstairs.
“She is ill,” Markis said, joining them at the top of the stairs. “Lia and I fell ill when we came here, too. The change, it—”
“Markis, I have seen, lived, my father’s memories. You and your wife fell ill within hours of arrival,” he said, his indigo eyes casting about as if he could find which room she was in by seeing through the muralled walls. “She has been here for three weeks. And last night, she was perfectly healthy.”
Eben's eyebrows rose, and Larkel felt his cheeks warm as he realised how his words sounded. “I checked her ageing, to see if it had slowed,” he muttered.
Markis cleared his throat to stifle his son's chortle then pointed to a door. “She's in there.”
Larkel pushed the door open with magic and felt his heart twist. Starla lay in the bed, clearly unconscious even as she writhed and moaned.
“Why didn't you call me sooner?” he bit out, noting with concern the blueish tint to Starla's usually glowing skin.
Shaneulia raised an eyebrow at his demanding tone and continued to crush some herbs with her mortar and pestle. “We didn't know until an hour ago. Eltara went to invite her to breakfast and found her like this. She had a very high fever. I have managed to break it with herbal remedies, but it keeps returning, worse than before.”
While she spoke, Larkel had moved to sit on the edge of the bed, pushed Starla's blanket aside, and laid one hand above her heart. The other held his staff to her temple as he had done last night.
He sucked air in through his teeth. Poison. Poison specifically designed for her body. And in its wake, death, death everywhere. Starla was losing this battle, fast.
“Get that thing off her!” he barked, yanking the mortar and pestle from Shaneulia's hands. “Now! And wash her down. Quickly!” He reached for her wrists.
“Larkel!” Markis barked, stepping between the High Lord and his wife. “Calm down.”
“We don't have time!” Larkel said, indigo eyes imploring. “Please—”
“Get out. All of you, move,” Shaneulia said, rushing them out of the room and shutting the door so she could do as the High Lord ordered.
Outside, Larkel caught Markis' angry look. Even Eben looked upset.
“I'm sorry, Markis, Eben, forgive me. She's dying,” Larkel said, voice breaking, even as he paced before the door.
Markis breathed his anger out. “Poison on the nightdress?”
Larkel gave him a tight nod, trying to quell his magic before it broke free of his control.
“Will Eltara—” Eben began, fear for his sister widening his honey eyes.
“It was made specifically for Starla. It won't affect anyone else.” Larkel's teeth snapped together in fury, then his face crumpled, “I can't Heal her, Eben.” His eyes flashed to his father’s friend. “I need to know the pattern, Markis, and we are running out of time,” he said, his voice anguished.
Hearing the desperation and torment in his friend's voice, Eben placed a hand on Larkel's shoulder and stopped his pacing. “If anyone can Heal her, you can,” he said.
“Here,” Shaneulia said, opening the door and handing Markis the poisoned dress. “I guess you'll want tests run.” Behind her, Starla lay in a new nightdress of lilac, looking no better.
“Yes. Thank you,” Larkel whispered, looking apologetically at Shaneulia.
She patted him on the arm. “We will work as fast as we can.”
She and Markis disappeared down the stairs.
Sitting back on the edge of the bed, Larkel cast his spell again as Eben leant against the window frame. He couldn't risk trying to Heal her. Kyron's poisons were magically enhanced. The wrong Healing pattern would kill both the sufferer and the Makhi if he didn't disconnect. But he could give her body energy. The stronger she was, the longer she could fight the poison herself.
***
“I think we have it!” Shaneulia called over to her husband, as they worked in their laboratory in the basement of their home.
The dress had been shredded and put through a contraption Markis had built many years ago and had been altered and enhanced by Jari when Kyron had returned.
It broke down the poison, regardless of what it was attached to, and mapped out its magical pattern. The exact opposite pattern would destroy the poison. The design was one of many strange inventions found in documents old High Lord Jari had brought back from Aurelia after the Silver Alliance was signed.
“Excellent,” Markis said, looking over the pattern that had formed. Over the years, with mistakes costing more lives than he could bear, they had figured out how to spot the real pattern from among the layers of duds. “Yes, this is the one.”
“I didn't realise exactly how deeply he was in love with her,” Shaneulia said, shutting off the machines.
“Yes,” he replied, his voice barely a whisper.
“Does she know he—”
“No, Lia. Look, I spoke with him, as I felt his father would have. He knows how we feel about it. I just—” Markis sighed. “He hasn't been this happy or hopeful in sixteen years. I won't interfere or take that away. Calirra wouldn’t thank us for it and you know it.”
Shaneulia frowned, “It will be worse the longer he waits, or if she finds out some other way. It’s not like it is a secret. The whole City knows.”
A rattling noise drew her eyes to the darkest part of the basement as she spoke. A shadowy form seemed to be pacing there, its footsteps whispering against the stone.
“Does she know anything? About the true state of this war?” Eltara asked as her parents finally spotted her where she sat in the shadows near the cage.
“You shouldn't come down here. I know—”
“She's my friend,” Eltara said, voice hard as she glanced back at the cage and the corpse-like monster shuffling within it. “Starla... didn't you notice it too? The similarity?”
Markis stiffened, but his wife gave a slow nod. “Eltara's right, Markis. Larkel needs to sort out his priorities, and fast, or we will not have a High Lord fit to defend us.”
Sighing, Markis gave a reluctant nod. It was Larkel's responsibility to speak. He did not know what else he could do, but perhaps Eben could be asked to help.
It had been nearly impossible to disengage from Starla when Markis and Shaneulia arrived back claiming to have the pattern. Even so, he left a stream of energy running into her.
The pattern looked right, and his many years of watching them work with his father gave him no reason to doubt their findings. It also helped that he had been mentally connected with his father during many of their attempts, everything making sense becaus
e his father had understood it.
Working quickly, Larkel memorised the pattern of the poison and carefully composed a Healing spell able to counter it. His head ached. He knew he was spending too much of his energy. His magic was split between keeping Starla alive and maintaining the Bonds for his Shield, both hugely draining. Normally, his magic would unconsciously heal the minor damage taken by the strain of using such vast stores. But he knew he would need even that small trickle now to accomplish his task.
He redirected his self-healing towards Starla, and now his vital organs were taking damage as energy was starting to be drawn from the very cells of his body to help power his magic. He pushed the pain away. He wasn't going to lose her.
Feeling more nervous than he had since been made High Lord, Larkel released his carefully crafted spell into Starla's body. He felt his body shudder as energy drained from his cells faster than he could recuperate.
His nose began to bleed, pain lancing through his skull. He paid it no heed. He could heal himself later, if there was a later. He watched her body, waiting for signs that it had worked. Faintly, as if from miles away, he heard Eben's voice imploring him to disconnect. If he did, and the pattern was wrong, Starla would die but he would survive.
Not worth it.
Suddenly, he was yanked away from her, the connection severing so abruptly that it set his head spinning.
Slowly regaining stability, Larkel tried to free himself from Eben's hard grasp, but his body was so drained, it was like trying to escape against steel. He pushed with a little magic, feeling his body re-coil from the new strain.
“No! Larkel, no!” Markis slammed his huge hands against Larkel's chest, helping his son hold him back. “Galatia cannot lose another High Lord to this war!”