The Light of the Midnight Stars

by Rena Rossner

  I am doing this to keep my sisters safe—to keep my parents in the voivode’s good graces. I am trusting God to lead me down a path.

  I say yes.

  Theodor helps me onto his horse, then straddles it behind me. He reaches his arms around me to take the reins, then gives a shout and we gallop off into the trees. The sun shines down in rays of golden light. We ride in silence and I focus on the sounds of our breaths, the sounds of the horse’s breath, the sound its hooves make when they impact the forest floor. I think about how much more ground one can cover on horseback and I wonder how long it will take for us to be able to afford a horse. I could search for Guvriel…

  “What’s his name?” I ask, stroking the horse’s mane.

  “Torent,” Theodor answers. “He’s the fastest Hutul in our stables.”

  “He’s beautiful.” With Guvriel, conversation was always so easy, but I have nothing in common with Theodor. We lead such different lives.

  The branches seem to part as we come to a clearing—one I’ve never been to before. The horse stops and my heart picks up its pace. I’m alone with a strange man in a forest. I’ve heard stories of the things that happen to maidens who go off into forests with men. Is that what this is? All I am to him? A peasant girl to warm his bed, to plow with seed?

  The tiniest spark ignites within me, like a memory of the old rage which used to make me burn. It wants to melt the ice. Maybe if I had my serpent it could chase away this man like it once chased away the darkness. But I squash it down. My fire never led to anything good. I don’t deserve to burn with righteous fire when everything I once loved has turned to ash.

  He dismounts, takes off his helmet and shakes out his long red hair. I can’t breathe. His hair tumbling down—long and red and silky. Like the moment in all my dreams just before they turn into nightmares. I turn away from him.

  “Stanna, what’s the matter? Come.” He reaches up his hand to help me dismount.

  I have come this far—taken this step—what will happen now feels inevitable. No matter what I do it leads to ruin. I reach for his hand and he helps me down off the horse, which whinnies and tosses its mane; I put my hand out to stroke it.

  “He’s beautiful,” I say, looking at the horse and not at Theodor. Unsure if I want to delay what is about to happen, or if I should turn to him and face the ugly truth.

  “Come.” He takes my hand and tugs.

  I follow. God help me but I follow. What other choice do I have? I could run, but he himself said this horse is the fastest in the land, and I know his guards are not far—and maybe even still hunting these very woods. I am prey either way. Defenseless and… I swallow hard and realize, as though a lamp has been lit inside me, that I am not defenseless. I never was. Just too scared and embarrassed to tell Guvriel the truth.

  I’m a fiery serpent, I tell myself. I only need to embrace that and I will never be defenseless again.

  I hear the words of Perek Shirah in my head and I understand them for the first time: “Nachash omer,” the snake says—“God supports the fallen and straightens the bent.” I may be bent and broken, but the Lord our God, the God of Solomon our ancestor, straightens the bent, supports the fallen, and now, in my hour of need, I know He will help me. But only if I help myself.

  I turn to Theodor. He can sense the shift in my demeanor. The tiniest hint of a spark burns in my eyes, which sting with tears.

  “What’s wrong?” Theodor says, touching his fingers to my chin.

  “Don’t touch me!” I spit, and spin away from him. I feel it—the tiny sputter of flame as it grows bright—in my belly. I close my eyes and revel in the burn as I allow it to engulf me. I will burn down this forest and everything in it if I have to; I will steal his horse and rescue my sisters and we will run again. Maybe if I blaze a trail through the forest, we can find our way back, or discover a new land—or come out changed again, a new type of girl—a woman, or even a beast.

  “Stanna.” His voice trembles. “You’re glowing.”

  I open my eyes and see him walking towards me. Why isn’t he running away in fear?

  “It’s beautiful; you’re beautiful,” he says.

  I look down at myself and I see that I’m covered in flames that look like scales—gold and glowing. My hair has risen around me like a cobra’s crown.

  Why isn’t he scared of me? I’m a serpent. Scaled and hideous. It’s the first time I’ve ever transformed. My breath comes in fast bursts. Every inch of me is alight with flame but I’m not burning. I’m not consumed. I’m pure power and potential. I never knew that it could be like this.

  I’m not scaled and hideous. I’m golden.

  Theodor doesn’t stop. He gets closer and closer. His hands are up in front of him as though he wants to warm himself by my fire, but not get burnt.

  “I won’t hurt you,” he says. “I promise.”

  “What good is a promissssss?” I hiss, my tongue long and split with flame. “Promisssesss can be broken.”

  “Hand on my heart,” he says, and puts his hand there. “My intention was never to hurt or harm you in any way.”

  My serpent eyes narrow at him. But he stares back, eyes clear and steady.

  I once knew eyes like that, I think.

  “Then why have you brought me out here?” My voice is foreign in my ears. I sound possessed, bewitched. I still don’t understand why he doesn’t cower in fear, why he hasn’t run off—or at the very least, tried to stab me with his sword. Then I realize that he can’t stab me—I am fire. Fire can’t be put out with a blade—only with water.

  Water. The words on Guvriel’s lips just before we ran, from the Song of Songs: “Many waters cannot quench love; rivers cannot sweep it away.”

  “I swear by the gods that no harm will come to you,” he says.

  “Why are you not sssscared?” I say, but even I can tell that my fire dims a bit.

  “Scared? I’m in awe. You’re glorious. Fit to be queen. My father…” He turns his head. “How can I get you to trust me?” he whispers, more to himself than to me. “May I offer you a drink?”

  Water, my mind pulses. I am parched and dry and maybe water will help.

  He holds out a wineskin, but I can’t grasp it. I close my eyes and take a deep breath and wish for hands. I ask for calm, for ice in my veins. I wiggle my fingers. He puts the skin in my hands. It doesn’t sizzle in my grasp or turn to ash. I take a deep breath and open my eyes and see that I’m back to myself again. I take long gulps from the skin, then cough, realizing that it’s wine I’m drinking, not water.

  “Stanna,” he says, “you’re safe here. You can trust me.”

  I’m nervous. I revealed myself—the deepest part of me—to a complete stranger, and not to Guvriel. How could I have done this to him? Maybe if I’d been brave and honest, I could have shown him my true nature and he could have helped me accept it. I could have helped Abba. I could have maybe saved us all. But I was too scared and too self-conscious, too young and stupid to understand. I was afraid of myself. The revelation of what I lost by not being true to myself feels like a heavy burden.

  “Can I show you something?” he says. “You’ve trusted me with your secret; I would like to trust you with mine.”

  I swallow hard. There’s no going back now. My heart hurts, but my eyes have been opened, and I can’t shut them now that they know what I have the power to become.

  “Put your arm out and hold it firmly.”

  I do as he says. Anything to distract me from my thoughts.

  A soft breeze rises through the trees, sending leaves dancing on the air. I blink my eyes against the breeze and Theodor disappears.

  I turn around, my arm still held aloft. Where did he go? Has he left me alone in the woods? But his horse is still here… I blink again and rub my eyes with my free hand.

  A large owl with russet-colored feathers swoops into the clearing and lands on my arm. I gasp and nearly let my arm go, startled by the weight of it. Is it…? Could it be…? I na
rrow my eyes at the bird and it looks at me. I reach my hand up and slowly stroke its feathers, cooing to it softly so as not to startle it.

  Its eyes are large and familiar. But none of this is possible. It must all be a dream. Is he…? Is this? But no. It’s not possible that one of my father’s students has finally found me—here, like this. Is it? But where did Theodor go? It takes off from the perch of my arm and circles around the clearing. Then it lands by my feet and when I look up, I see Theodor standing in its place. The owl is gone.

  “How?” I don’t understand.

  I thought only my father’s disciples could…

  But this is Theodor, the son of Basarab the Voivode.

  There’s no way…

  “There are remnants of the wisdom of the old gods that still walk among us. My father is not Basarab—he was someone else, something else entirely. He was a smoke-walker—perhaps something a bit like you. He converted to Christianity, but he never forgot the old gods. Some say their blood ran in his veins. Few speak of them anymore, but my father was known to take to the skies in various forms. There is much of the world that we don’t understand.”

  “It’s incredible,” I say. “Are there other forms you can take as well?”

  I have seen this among my people, but you are not one of us and that scares me.

  He gestures to me. “You’re pretty incredible yourself. And yes, actually I can become whatever I desire to be—I only need to wish it, but some forms are more difficult than others. I have never been a snake,” he says, “but perhaps the time has come.” He winks.

  “I’ve never done that… I didn’t know I could…” I stop myself from saying anymore.

  He comes closer to me. “Stanna,” he says. “I see so much sadness in you, but the air around you vibrates with potential. You’re like a butterfly about to burst from a cocoon, but you refuse to let go. Why have you closed yourself off so?”

  My heart beats fast. The forest branches start to sway and a wind picks up, matching the storm in my heart.

  “Are you doing that too?” he asks quietly. Unafraid.

  I don’t control the weather or the wind. Do I? I close my eyes.

  His hand cups my cheek. “Stanna.”

  A kind of fire grows within me. He shouldn’t be touching me. I think of Guvriel. The fire singes my insides. I cry out and step away from him.

  “What did I do?” he asks, hands held up. The concern in his voice is genuine. But I don’t want to be touched. Not by him. Not by anyone.

  “I’m sorry,” I say, and I turn away from him.

  “You are in so much pain,” Theodor says. “I wish I could help.”

  I walk away, embarrassed by my tears, by the way I’ve behaved. I’ve endangered my family again. The son of Basarab himself has seen me turn into a serpent. Wallachia is no longer safe for us. We must pack our things and go.

  “Stanna!” I hear him rushing through the forest after me. “Stanna, please stop.” His hand reaches for my arm, but only brushes me lightly before letting go. “I won’t touch you if you don’t want to be touched, but please stop. Don’t run from me. Tell me what’s wrong. Has someone hurt you?”

  I stop in my tracks.

  Everything in me hurts and there is only one person responsible for my pain—me.

  “Talk to me,” he pleads.

  I sit down on a large tree root and he sits beside me.

  “Is it someone…?” he asks tentatively. “Someone you lost? Someone you’re still waiting for?”

  “Maybe. There is but…”

  He leans forward. His hair creates a curtain around us. “Stanna,” he says. “Look at me. I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

  I give a short, small laugh. “You can’t promise that. No one can.”

  “Well, this is progress,” he says. “Laughter is better than tears. I am here to listen if you ever decide to tell the tale.”

  “I think what I need most now is a friend.”

  He reaches over for another smaller wineskin on his belt and lifts it up.

  “To friendship.” He takes a swig, then passes it to me.

  I take a sip and it burns a trail through me as it goes down. It isn’t wine, but spirit. It feels like the sealing of a pact.

  “To friendship,” I say, and hand it back to him. “And secrets that need to be kept.”

  “To secrets, may they ever stay hidden.” He takes another swig.

  I try to think of something that might distract us from this conversation. I’m not ready to say more, and I’m still reeling from everything that happened. That’s when I realize what I want to say.

  “There is a story I want to tell you.”

  “Okay.” He smiles encouragingly. “I love a good story.”

  I take a steadying breath.

  There were once three sisters who lived in a small town. Their father was a scholar—an important man. The oldest sister was beautiful and wise beyond her years; the middle sister was an artist—good with her hands but a bit of a firebrand; and the youngest sister liked to gaze at the stars. She was sweet and innocent. They were all innocent…

  I let out a deep shaky breath.

  The older sister fell in love with a prince. She had to wait two years to marry him. And in the meantime, the middle sister fell in love with a red-haired student in their town… someone with hair like yours…

  I pause and look up at Theodor. He stares steadily back at me, listening to every word. I look back down at my hands and continue.

  But the middle sister couldn’t marry him because she had to wait for her older sister to marry, as was their custom. And one day, her older sister did marry, and there was much joy and celebration. The middle sister knew that her time to be with her love had finally come…

  But then their town was struck with tragedy… a great evil…

  I stop and search for the right words. Theodor puts his hand on mine and squeezes it.

  A black dragon came to the town on the day of the wedding. The older sister’s husband was killed and all the villagers fled. And before her family left, the middle sister kissed her beloved. He promised he would follow her, that he would come for her even if he had to search to the ends of the earth to find her, but first he had to battle the dragon and save her grandmother, and his father, and her father’s sacred scrolls…

  As the words leave my mouth, I realize how crazy it all sounds. Clearly there is no way he believes me.

  She left a golden trail of tears behind her, hoping he would vanquish the dragon and follow her. She waited hours, then days, then weeks, then months as her family fled through the forest…

  I stop. I can’t go on because I don’t know what happens next.

  “Did she ever see him again?” Theodor asks after a while.

  I look up at him, tears brimming in my eyes.

  “The story does not have a happy ending,” he says.

  “No, I don’t think it does.”

  “None of the good stories do,” he says, offering a small, sad smile.

  “What if another dragon comes?” I say.

  “There will always be dragons. But you’re finding your own way to defend yourself.”

  He places his hand over his heart. “I can feel your pain, right here. It radiates out from your center. You have to find a way to let it go or it will consume you.”

  I want to laugh. There is nothing left for it to consume. But the steady beat of my heart and the remnants of the fire that burned through me and lit up my skin stand as evidence to the contrary.

  “All I can do is try to help you heal,” he says. “I’m willing to try if you’ll let me.”

  “Okay,” I say shakily. “Let’s try.”

  Anna

  17 Sivan 5122

  “Are you sure it’s okay that you’re not following them?” I said to Constantin when we met earlier today.

  “I promised Theodor I would give him space, but I do have a guard following them at a distance.”

  “I was a
ctually looking forward to spying on my sister a little bit,” I joked, but really I wanted to protect her.

  “As entertaining as that might be,” he said, “I want to be able to give you my full attention.”

  My cheeks flushed and I looked away from him. I’m getting good at pretending to flirt. I do feel as though I’m misleading him though. It is not the kind of thing that Papa ever taught me to do—to be false in my dealings with the people around me.

  “Can I show you something?” I asked him. Maybe I could try to share something with him that used to matter to me; maybe that would help me feel less duplicitous.

  I led him in the direction of the strawberry grove.

  “It’s beautiful here.” He walked in a slow circle, taking in everything around us.

  “I can make things grow,” I found myself saying to him. “It’s what I love to do, but also what I’m good at. I planted all this.” My arms reached wide as if to take all the grove in my arms.

  “You are a bright spark, Anna,” he said with quiet confidence, and closed the distance between us. His eyes were soft and almost scared. He looked at me like I was precious. Like I was something he was afraid to break. And it struck me in that moment that the way he looked at me, the quiet confidence in his voice, was different than the way that Jakob was when he was with me.

  Constantin reached his hand out towards me, but I stepped away. “There are things I need to say.”

  “Okay,” he said, turning his palms up to the sky. “Anything. Speak and I will listen.”

  “I want a large family someday. I want my children to be like olive trees around my table, with long, thick roots that reach into the ground and are planted firmly. To root myself in a place and stay there until I get old and can watch them all grow… That’s the only thing that’s important to me. And my parents are important to me. And my sisters—their safety.” I stopped for a minute and looked at him. His eyes were closed. This isn’t what men like to talk about, you idiot, I thought, but if I was to be true to myself, I had to speak my mind. If I was to deny the very part of me that was still in so much pain, to move on from the destruction of everything I cared about, I had conditions.