by H. L. Burke
“Clindt also said fate and magic were factors.” Kay longed to get away from this conversation. He could accept that Olyn would marry Arynne, mostly, but to sit and listen to him talk about her made him uneasy. “Look, I haven’t had a chance to clean up since—”
“But I don’t feel a magical connection to her either!” Olyn sprang to his feet and began to pace.
Kay slouched on the bench. He wasn’t escaping this any time soon.
“What if I can’t make her love me, Kay? What if I can’t love her? How do you even start to make a relationship like that?” Olyn paused and gazed at his brother.
Kay started. “Are you asking me for romantic advice?”
“You’re the only one I have to go to.”
“Yeah, but you at least know you’re marrying a girl,” Kay protested. “Father’s made it clear I’m dying a bachelor. Last Harvest Meet when he caught me flirting with the cook’s assistant, he said he’d castrate me before he let me risk spreading our magic outside of the royal line.”
Olyn winced. “He was joking.”
“Har, har.” Kay rolled his eyes.
“But that’s just my point. You do flirt, and from Father’s grumbling, if anything, you’re a little too good at it.” Olyn threw up his hands in frustration. “How? How do you make a girl ... like you?”
Kay longed to snap at his brother to take care of his own love life. After all, if he couldn’t figure out how to woo a girl like Arynne, did he really deserve her? Especially not when Kay had done everything he could over the last several moonnotches to forget how she made him feel.
How he shouldn’t feel.
Olyn continued to gaze down at him with his stupidly sincere blue eyes.
Groaning inwardly, Kay stood and gripped his brother by the shoulder. “Look, Olyn, you’re a good man. You don’t need to worry about her liking you because if she has any common sense she will.” After all, Arynne had expressed interest in Kay, so her standards couldn’t be all that high. Olyn would surpass them easily. “The one thing I’d suggest: stop taking this so seriously.”
“Stop ...?” Olyn gaped at him. “The whole kingdom is at stake, Kay! How could I not take that seriously?”
“The prophecy, your future fight with Athan, all of that, fine, treat it with zero humor and all the fuss you want, but flirting? No, that’s a game. It’s push and pull and keeping secrets so you can reveal them in just the right way. It’s supposed to be fun.” Kay tightened his hold on his brother, avoiding his eyes. He remembered his first meeting with Arynne, teasing her, getting pushed back by a saucy retort—his chest felt hollow.
“I ... think I can do that?” Olyn chewed on his bottom lip.
Kay rolled his eyes, though his heart wasn’t in on the contempt. No, his heart didn’t feel much of anything except miserable right then. “A present wouldn’t hurt. Get her something nice as a ‘welcome to Frorheim.’ Girls like presents.”
It was shallow, obvious advice, but he needed to get away from this conversation.
“Any suggestions as to what?” Olyn asked.
“Do you need me to kiss her for you too, while I’m at it?” Kay snapped, immediately regretting the words. The memory of her lips against his nearly choked him as soon as they escaped his mouth.
“Sorry, I know I’m being an infant about this,” Olyn mumbled.
Kay hadn’t meant to shout at Olyn. This was hardly Olyn’s fault, after all. No, Kay was the idiot who had made a mess of this whole situation.
“Something unique, like her. Maybe a ... a pet.” Kay knew the perfect gift, but it was a risk. If she put it together that he’d given the advice, she might see it as encouragement, and he couldn’t afford that misunderstanding again. Still, it might also endear her to Olyn. “Don’t tell her it was my suggestion. There’s nothing less attractive to a woman than a man who needs his hand held.”
Olyn reddened.
“Sorry, just telling it like it is.” Kay drew a deep breath. “They sell cat-owl nestlings in the market. They’re cute, they’re feisty, and they’re something she wouldn’t have had in her homeland. She’ll like one.”
Olyn’s face brightened. “That’s perfect. Thank you!”
“No thanks needed.” Kay took a step back, preparing to travel. “Go get your girl.”
Olyn disappeared, probably traveling straight to the market, before Kay could use his magic, so Kay sank back onto the bench with his head in his hands. He needed to get a hold of himself. If Olyn couldn’t talk about Arynne in front of Kay without Kay getting tied up in knots, Kay would lose the only real friend he had left. However, even as he said it, he knew the wound was too fresh—and with Father rushing Arynne and Olyn to the heartbonding ceremony, it would only get worse before it got better.
No, there was only one solution. Kay needed to find an excuse to leave the Starspire, preferably before the heartbond ceremony ripped Arynne—and possibly Olyn—away from him forever.
Chapter Twenty-Three
“This is your first full brightening in Frorheim, so we want to make an impression,” Sigid’s voice echoed out of the wardrobe. The girl had disappeared within it, searching for “just the right” frock.
“Really, I only care if it’s warm enough.” Arynne shivered and huddled beside the fire. She had thought that after a journey through the frozen wastes the palace would seem warm in comparison, but her blood still longed for the ever-present sun and breeze heated over the shining sands of Solea.
“Oh, we always dress warmly.” Sigid emerged from the wardrobe with a stack of dresses draped across her arms. “Goose bumps aren’t attractive.” She approached Arynne who, not wanting to cringe before her new handmaiden, stood, though she still stayed close to the flames. Sigid held first a pale green, then a deep purple, and finally a scarlet dress up to Arynne’s chest.
The red reminded Arynne of the Solean flag, and she instinctively grabbed for it. “This one.”
Sigid tilted her head. “Yes, I think that will suit you. Do you need my assistance in changing?”
“No. I can dress myself.”
Arynne shed her sleeping-gown and slipped the soft red fabric over her head. It settled nicely, though a little tight across the shoulders.
Sigid tilted her head. “Hmm, we need to get you to the tailor. This dress will do for now, but you’re showing far more ankle than is fashionable and it’s too tight about the bosom.” She returned to the wardrobe and pulled out a pair of fawnskin boots. “Here, these go far enough up your legs to make up for any extra skin you’d be showing. Help us avoid scandal.”
As Arynne finished pulling on her boots, a knock rose from the door. She glanced at Sigid.
“Just a moment!” Sigid called out. Pulling a comb and a bottle of scented oil from her apron pocket, she darted behind Arynne. “My first brightening looking after a princess, I’m not going to let people think I’m not doing my job.”
“Brightening?” Arynne frowned only to yelp as Sigid yanked the comb through her hair. After several painful moments of tugging and teasing, Sigid released her, gave a satisfied nod. Arynne touched her hair which now stood out from her head in a halo of dark curls, unmatted and clean, but no longer pristinely styled. Sigid seemed content with this, however, as she went to open the door.
Olyn peered in, wide-eyed. “Is everything all right in here?”
“Yes.” Arynne strode to greet him. “Sigid is just very ... enthusiastic about my appearance.”
His eyes flicked up and down her, settling the longest on her head. “Ah, looks like you’ve figured things out. I like ... this.” He waved his left hand towards her hair, then blushed, and dropped his eyes.
She smiled. “It’s not what I’m used to, but I actually don’t mind it.”
He stood, still half out of the room, his right hand behind his back. She craned her neck, trying to see what he was hiding. He grinned and stepped into the room, allowing the door to swing shut behind him. “Since I didn’t know when you were arrivi
ng, I didn’t have a gift prepared, so I thought I’d remedy that.” He extended his arm. From his hand swung a small silver cage with a nest of straw at the bottom. In this nest, wings draped over paws, tail curled about its snow white body, was a tiny cat-owl.
“A meowl!” Arynne gasped.
“Yes,” Olyn said. “That’s funny. I thought Kay was the only one who called them that.”
Her cheeks warmed. “He may have told me about them on our journey. We saw one at the starshard village.”
“Of course.” He unfastened the cage door and reached in. “This one was hatched in captivity, and he’s quite tame.” He scooped out the creature, who stretched its wings and yawned only to settle back into his hand.
Arynne held forth a trembling hand and allowed Olyn to transfer the creature into her palm. It was surprisingly light, feather soft, and warm to the touch.
“Oh, it’s precious,” she breathed.
“He’s yours.” He grinned. “You like him?”
“Very much.” She drew it against her chest, savoring its breathing. “It’s a he?”
“That’s what the merchant said.” He chuckled. “I’m not sure how she tells the difference, honestly. What do you want to name him?”
“Sol ... after Solea, my homeland.” Embarrassed by her own sentimentality, she avoided his gaze, pretending instead to focus on her petite new pet.
“That’s perfect.” Olyn stroked the creature’s wings. “I’ll be happy to teach you how to care for him.”
“Oh, I know all about cat-owls, your highness!” Sigid chimed in. “They need bits of meat, a warm nest, and you have to make sure they know where they can leave their droppings, but it’s a simple matter of training.”
With Sigid’s help and Olyn supervising, Arynne made Sol a tiny nest in the corner. The creature yawned, spread his wings to their full span and leaned forward with his forelegs outstretched. Tiny but sharp claws peeked out from the delicate pink pads of his paws. Arynne bit back the desire to squeal, fearing it would be seen as silly or girlish, but couldn’t suppress her grin. Olyn’s eyes lit up, obviously pleased that he’d pleased her. Guilt crashed down on her.
Why was she accepting gifts from this man when she could never give him her heart? When that already belonged to his brother?
Olyn eased closer. “I was hoping we could take a walk. Father wants us to meet with my cousin Clindt about the heartbond ceremony—Clindt’s a mender and heartbonding is part of their magic—but it seems backwards that he’s arranging the ceremony before we’ve had a chance to ... well, bond naturally, as a future husband and wife should.” His cheeks reddened, and a horrible feeling of shame mixed with dread gripped her.
Marrying him seemed inevitable. She’d already agreed to it, and if she refused now, she’d be stuck here, in a foreign land, with no way back to Solea—which wasn’t even what she wanted. Still, he was a good man, and she didn’t want to hurt him.
“So I thought maybe we could spend some time alone, talking, before we see Clindt,” Olyn continued.
Was her only possible chance at happiness giving up her foolish obsession with Kay and accepting a union with Olyn? Could she even be happy in such a marriage? Her stubbornness shouted that no, she could not, but her practical side knew that she might not have another option. It was better to see what good could be made out of a situation than to go about miserable and sulky—also, maybe if Olyn saw they weren’t right for each other, he might reject her in turn, and then the way would be cleared for Kay—maybe?
“I suppose we haven’t had a chance to get to know each other. Where will we be walking?”
“The palace gardens. It would allow me to show you the more pleasant side of palace living. It’s not all stuffy chambers overseen by growling old men.” He offered her his hand.
“I do like gardens. Let me fetch my cloak.”
She turned and found Sigid already holding the garment, waiting for her. The maid gave her a cheeky grin, obviously proud that she’d anticipated Arynne’s needs.
“Thank you,” Arynne said as the cloak settled about her shoulders. She took Olyn’s outstretched hand, and immediately they were no longer in her room but in the center of pleasant garden filled with small manicured trees, colorful flower beds, and a bubbling fish pond. Silver carp darted about this, flicking fan-like fins and snatching at insects that skimmed the water’s surface. Beyond this was a stone wall and above that hovered the Starspire, letting off constant pulses of vibrant light. Arynne stared up at it.
From this close it was hard to comprehend the scale of the massive crystalline structure. While at first glance it seemed simply a larger version of the one she’d seen on her journey with Kay, something was different about it. Something she could sense but not quite get her mind around. Perhaps just the enormity of it. It had to be at least five times the size of the first one she’d seen, a hawk to a sparrow.
“It’s lovely, isn’t it?” Olyn’s fingers tightened around hers.
She started and jerked away. Somehow she’d forgotten his presence, as well as that he was still holding her hand. She cleared her throat, then eyed him suspiciously. “You’re not winded?”
“No. Why?” He tilted his head to one side.
She shrugged. “Kay traveled with me several times, and he was almost always at least a little out of breath afterwards—depending on the length of travel. While I’m not sure how far we are from my chambers, I’d wager it more than a short walk.”
“I suppose it is. Benefit to being the Star Prince.” He held up his hand exhibiting the silver ring with the starshard setting. “This is a fragment from the Starspire itself. It allows me to draw from the Starspire’s power to increase my own. It’s especially effective for starcasting, but it can enhance other magical abilities as well, such as traveling. Of course, there are downsides. For one thing, it only works within in the light of the Starspire, but more annoyingly, my magic has grown dependent on it. Outside of the Starspire’s reach, even my usual abilities are weakened whereas Kay, who has the same abilities as I do, can’t use them as strongly within the Starspire’s light but is much stronger than me outside of it.”
“Is the increase of power within your realm worth the limitations outside of it?” Arynne furrowed her brow.
“Not on their own, but it’s a necessary evil.” He indicated the Starspire. “You’ve seen other starshards?”
“Just the one around the herding village on the route here—and of course little ones.” Like the one Kay had given her which she’d hidden under her pillow to have closer to her. The thought made her drop her gaze from Olyn’s.
“Do you notice anything about this one?”
Arynne narrowed her eyes at it, trying to remember every detail of the other. “It ... pulses. I don’t think the other one did that.”
His smile broadened. “No, it didn’t. Only this one does. What you are seeing is my father’s literal heartbeat.”
Arynne blinked. “His heartbeat? Is he tied that strongly to the Starspire?”
“He has to be. For the good of the realm. The king of our land is more than a monarch. He sets the reach of the Starspire, giving it strength and taking strength from it in turn. He controls its brightness, allowing us periods of rest and times of greater warmth fading to colder periods which we use to schedule the planting of our crops.”
Arynne swallowed. “I’ve read legends that the whole world used to work that way before the world stopped turning. They were called seasons, were they not?”
“Yes, and also periods of dark and light called night and day—you slept through the dimming here, but we have something similar, where my father allows the intensity of the Starspire to diminish then grow again when people need to wake.”
“I think I heard Sigid say something about the brightening. I didn’t get a chance to ask what she meant. In Solea we have waking-times and resting-times which serve a similar purpose, though we make our sleeping spaces dark with curtains and shutters.”
>
“People do what they need to do to survive with what they’ve been given.” He led her to a bench. “Tell me more about your home.”
“Well, to start with the obvious, it’s much warmer and brighter there—” Arynne launched into descriptions and explanations, telling Olyn about life in Solea, about Vanya and his various attempts to curb her rebellious spirit, of Elfrida and how she had raised Arynne on stories of Frorheim even before she’d agreed to come there. Through it all, he listened quietly, occasionally asking a question or commenting on a difference between their lands.
“I think I’d like to meet your Vanya sometime.” He tapped his fingers on his knee. “I know you two had some difficulties in your relationship, but I understand the urge to protect your younger siblings, especially if you are essentially having to raise them.”
Arynne examined his face. His blue eyes stared off into the middle distance, soft and sad. She hadn’t considered that Olyn would’ve felt such a duty to Kay, but it made sense. After all, King Evyd’s disgust for his own son would’ve meant most of the care and raising would’ve been left to others, perhaps even to Olyn. Of course, if she continued to steer every conversation she and Olyn had around to the subject of Kay, he might notice.
He’s a good man. I have already agreed to marry him. A country’s safety relies on me doing so, if the prophecies are to be believed. Oh, why for once can’t I just do what’s expected and required of me? Was Vanya right? Am I truly too selfish to put aside my own desires for the good of those beneath me? But oh ... why does my heart scream for Kay instead of Olyn if fate truly needs me to be with Olyn?
She fell quiet.
His hand brushed the top of hers. “Are you all right?”
She shrugged, not wanting to lie to him, but also not wanting to tell the whole truth. “I worry that Vanya was right in that I was brash in jumping at the decision to come here to wed a man I’ve never met to be queen of a land I know so little about.” Realizing how this could sound she quickly added, “Not that you haven’t been wonderful to me.”