by J. A. Comley
Soon, the Earl and his wife had joined the Baron, too. Starla tried hard to ignore the stares as the page announced the last of her group.
“The High Commander Medara D'Ordeley of the Imperial Army and her wife, Makhi Naleiya D'Ordeley of the Makhi Order of Trianon.”
After Naleiya and Medara joined the party on the dais, a steady stream of nobles was announced, and descended to bow to their King.
Slowly, servants started to appear out of the side doors, bearing trays of drinks. They would soon be followed by the trays of food.
As the table on the dais was laid, Starla looked up at the King. He was watching her intently, as if trying to answer some important question. As she met his kind, brown eyes, he smiled that smile from the hearing. The one that crinkled his eyes and nagged at some memory. He seemed very much like Father Joe.
At her thought of him, all the nightmares she had been having of Father Joe and the others flashed through her mind.
“Are you all right, my love?” Larkel whispered. He had taken her hand as they waited for the chairs to be rearranged and although the images had passed through her mind too fast to make sense, the feelings of terror and pain lingered.
Starla just nodded as they took their seats, the servants coming around with food-laden platters.
“Tell me, Starla,” Vinaria's shrill voice called from across the table, “do humans know how to eat with these, or do you just use your hands like the savages of the Cosmaltian Fire mountains used to?” She kept her tone all innocence.
Starla felt her face heat as the chagrin rose. Next to the Prince, Queen Zerina's eyes narrowed into slits, their molten amber depths turning solid, a clear message of warning.
“Of course, Lady Vinaria,” Markis interjected just as innocently. “However, if you are having trouble, we could always teach you.” His blue eyes glinted like icicles.
Vinaria looked to the Baron for support, but he was staring past Starla, lost in some memory, his lips twisted into a grimace.
The King frowned at the exchange but said nothing to either party. Instead, he turned to Starla.
“Tell me of your home, Miss Starla,” he commanded, putting an end to any further unpleasantness.
“Yes, my King.” Starla bowed her head and began, feeling no longing for the people and places she described. She felt a small pang of sadness at that realisation, but it was greatly over shadowed by the joy at all she had gained in return.
Across from her, the Baron came back to himself, his grey eyes flickered to the High Lord and a small, malicious smile curved his mouth.
Chapter 12
Decisions
Between Markis, Shaneulia, Naleiya and Medara, the Baron and his friends had no opportunity to harass Starla with any more pointed questions. She was left free to answer the King and then listen with rapt attention to the Prince as he happily described his childhood on Cosmaltia and his family, of which only he and his grandfather survived.
Larkel smiled at his friend over Starla's head as they both laughed at a joke of Zerina's. They were like two rays of sunshine, he thought, oblivious to the dark cloud of war. Just like Prince Niden, Starla seemed to never lose her hope completely. They would always fight, always believe.
Just then, the music started and, before Larkel could ask, the Prince had extended his hand to Starla.
“May I?” he asked, his grin indicating that he already knew the answer.
Conscious of the many stares, Starla took the Prince's hand. After an immeasurable pause other couples joined them on the dance floor and time seemed to begin again.
“How do you like the Royal City?” the Prince asked, as they twirled around the dance floor.
“Very much, your Grace,” she said, smiling up. “It is a stunning city.” Again that feeling of familiarity, but Starla couldn't quite bring the memory forward.
“No need to be so formal,” he winked. “Larkel and I are old friends, since his childhood. We are close in age. And yes, the Glasioders outdid themselves here. Although still not as amazing as the old Capitol on Cosmaltia. Did you know that all Glasioders are from Cosmaltia?”
Starla's eyebrows rose. “No.” Then a thought occurred to her. “But, then, does that mean that all the glass-spun buildings here are the creations of recent immigrants?”
“No, the Glasioders have been in hot demand for thousands of years. There has been a small fraternity of them living here in Galatia since the beginning of the Silver Alliance, eighteen hundred years ago. And their work has only ever improved.”
Starla chuckled at the borrowed pride in his voice.
He stepped back as the song ended. Starla bowed.
“Thank you for the dance, Miss Starla,” he said, giving her a brilliant white smile. “All yours, my friend,” putting her hand in Larkel's.
“Enjoy the evening.” He grinned, mischief in his eyes again. His tone made it clear that he didn't mean at the festival.
Starla felt herself blush as Larkel sighed and shook his head.
“Good night, Prince Niden,” the High Lord said, then continued to Starla as the next song began. “Shall we dance?”
After three more songs, Starla and Larkel returned to their seats. They were having a glass of wine with Markis and Lia when a loud voice cut through the sudden silence between songs.
“I can't believe that the Prince danced with that spy. I don't care who she's bedding. Or maybe she's bedding them both,” Lady Yilia finished, clearly enjoying the reaction to her words.
Starla wanted the floor to swallow her whole. Everyone in the courtyard seemed to be staring at her. Most looks were unfriendly. They flickered between her and Larkel and she knew that she had joined him as a target for the fear and hatred the war had sown. She squared her shoulders.
There was a movement of guards from the sides.
“The King requests that those with malicious and uncivil tongues, leave,” the High Commander said, her voice ringing with authority.
Larkel stood beside Starla, watching in grim triumph as the Earl and his wife were escorted from the courtyard.
“I'm sorry,” he whispered, his eyes burning.
Starla managed a smile, then stood on her tiptoes to kiss him. She was sure of her choice to be with him. The earlier embarrassment melted away before the certainty in her heart.
“I have something for you,” Larkel said after she had rocked reluctantly back on to her heels. “Would you like it now?”
Starla held out her hands, smiling, emerald eyes curious. Slowly, a small globe of golden light filled them. As the light faded, a gold bracelet and matching necklace were revealed. She gasped in wonder, turning them over in her hands. The necklace was a thin vine of gold, its pendant a delicately carved heartwing, the bird commonly associated with love, here. The hard stone glittered like a thousand tiny, black diamonds.
“They're beautiful,” Starla began, slipping the bracelet on, then tensed as the Baron's voice drifted across the courtyard, even though his words were unintelligible.
Larkel, clipped the necklace around her neck and felt her muscles tense.
“Perhaps you'd like to show Starla the rest of the festival?” Markis said, meaningfully.
“A walk, then?” He looked down at Starla, then followed her gaze across the dance floor.
“Please,” he heard her whisper as the Baron's lips curved into a cruel smile and another pair of eyes shone with mistrust, all directed at her.
Effortlessly, Larkel twirled them onto the dance floor then across it and out through two double doors at the end onto a small, lamp-lit garden path.
“Where are we?” Starla murmured in wonder.
Ahead of her, dipping down in tiers, were hundreds of little lamp-lit stalls.
“The Palace Gardens.” Larkel smiled, as he felt her mood lighten. “Every Trimoon, the King permits stalls to be set up here. Shall we visit some?”
They walked hand-in-hand along the garden paths through the stalls. It didn't take long for Star
la to be drawn in by the array of Galatian goods for sale, the Baron's schemes fading away.
Larkel laughed softly, watching Starla. She looked absolutely beautiful this evening. Her golden hair glowed. The gown she was wearing slid along her body as she moved gracefully amongst the stalls. His hand moved to the inner pocket of his cape to the ring-box hidden inside. Galatians had no custom of giving rings, but he knew from her memories that they did on Earth. He had made this choice before he had told her everything, hoping that he could be so lucky that she would love him anyway. Seeing her as he had when he had been in her mind, he knew he would never want anyone else. And here she was, still beside him, even though she knew all his pain and torment, knew that the majority of this city's residents thought of him as a murderer and let him lead only because they were too afraid to do otherwise. Tonight, he would give her the choice of being with him forever.
Starla glanced up at Larkel. He had one hand pressed to his cape, an intense look in his eyes. As he bent to kiss her, she wound her arms around his neck.
Smiling, he broke the kiss and led the way through more stalls.
“Wow,” Starla said as a vendor explained enthusiastically about his lightning fern pens, whose ink lit up in the dark.
Larkel moved over to the book stall across the way. “I'll have that one, please.” He indicated a book titled 'The Birds of Trianon'. “And may I borrow a pen?”
“Of course, High Lord,” the vendor said, trying, unsuccessfully, to hide his fear.
Larkel opened the book, and took the offered pen, writing a message on the inside of the cover for Starla.
Looking back up the garden path, he sighed.
“Thank you,” he added to the book vendor before moving away.
Starla was holding a turquoise and gold pen. “Here you go.” He paid the man behind the counter and wrapped an arm around Starla's waist, drawing her further down the path.
Starla turned a questioning emerald gaze on him.
“He's following us,” he murmured in her ear.
Glancing discreetly back up the path, she spotted the Baron, three stalls away and apparently very interested in the ornaments for sale there.
“Can we lose him?” she asked hopefully.
In response, Larkel stopped and closed his eyes in concentration.
“Yes,” he grinned, “just be ready.”
As if on command, Naleiya and her wife came up behind the Baron and claimed his attention, forcing him to turn his back on Starla and Larkel.
“Now,” Larkel said. Taking Starla's hand tightly, he ducked down an unlit garden path.
The path was very dark, the tall hedges blocking out most of the moonlight, but with Larkel's strong arms to steady her, Starla didn't fall, not even once.
They emerged, laughing, into a small enclosure. A white stone pond filled the centre, glowing in the brilliant light of the three full moons. They had a clear view of the moons now, all having risen above the line of the palace. Each glowed fitfully, a powdery purple, hanging in the black starry sky.
“They're beautiful,” Starla said, pointing into the pond, where little creatures with perfectly spherical shells moved about.
“Frockles,” the High Lord said, absently, drawing her against him. “Alone at last,” he teased, kissing her tenderly on her lips and down her neck. She trembled in his arms. Taking a deep breath, he stepped back, ready to make good on his decision.
“Starla, I—” he started, just as Starla spoke.
“I wanted—” She stopped as they spoke together.
Seeing the determination in her eyes, the serious cast to her features, he stilled his impatience, his eagerness.
“What is it, darling?”
“I have made a choice,” she began. “I am going to tell you my secret. How I came here.”
She watched his indigo eyes come in to sharp focus at her words. He was the High Lord, now. All command and power, the weight of office on his shoulders.
Larkel waited. He had been planning on asking her that tonight, after a more personally urgent question.
Slowly, Starla pulled the Star from inside her dress, her earlier stitching giving way with a gentle tug.
Larkel eyed the dark, gold metal dubiously.
“Here, let me show you, too.” She opened the mental connection between them, closing her eyes. Larkel closed his, too.
As she reached for the memory, she saw the small wooden box again.
The picture! Starla almost laughed at her own forgetfulness. Surely, if she showed Larkel the painting, he might recognise someone in it. As his light joined her, she felt his curious expectation of her secret finally explained. She pushed the memory of the box aside. I'll show him that one next. She grasped the memory of her leaving the chapel that night and held it out to him.
He watched her go out into the grove by the chapel, felt her pain again. This time, the memory didn't slip away. Starla looked up to the stars with emerald eyes full of tears and determination. She asked the night sky to take her home, a badly burnt letter flickering briefly in her mind. And then a bright light. A falling star.
His eyes snapped open as he watched the light grow brighter in her mind, watched the star hurtle towards her. Her emerald eyes met his as, in her mind, she stood surrounded by light and music. Her Star, bringing her home. Larkel gasped, his eyes wide with wonder. He watched as the Star led her through Rainbow Wood to the Guardians' Grove. A grove not even he was powerful enough to enter without invitation.
“You're … you're a … that's a—” he choked out, incoherently, staring at the Star with new eyes.
He began to kiss her so passionately that Starla felt her head spin. All she knew was his lips moving with hers and the tingling sensation as his hands slid down the bare skin of her back.
She laughed as he broke away, staring at her wide eyed.
“You're a Soreiaphin, a Starborn child,” he breathed, keen eyes still ablaze with amazement, reaching out to towards the Star. “I knew it!” But the amazement seemed to dim a little, some darker emotion tightening his eyes.
“The Sacrileons said all the Starborn were dead,” Starla said.
“So we thought,” Larkel responded, coming back to himself. “But no other could have travelled here as you did.”
Laughing, he picked her up and twirled her in the air. “I knew it!” he said, grinning broadly. “Today, when I was at the jewellery maker, he recognised the bracelet. He said his father had made it but he couldn't remember for whom. He promised to look in the log books. But he was sure the order was from someone Galatian.”
“But my ageing,” Starla interjected, still unable to identify herself as a magical being from another planet. Still unwilling to hope that she had thousands of years with this man, rather than merely decades.
“Your Earth family had no way of knowing when you were born. They obviously got it wrong. And there is no definite time for that all to begin. You could still be some months away from everything slowing down.” Larkel shook his head, pacing in front of her now. “It all makes sense. The fact that you can use magic, even though I can't sense a store of it inside you. The Star, following your commands.” His hands trembled as he stopped to examine the Star again, being careful not to touch it.
“Where's the centre of it?” he asked, eyes clouding over as he searched her memories again.
“I don't know,” Starla admitted. “Gaby … all the Sacrileons seemed sure that this would be of great help to Galatia. Will it still work?”
Larkel was in full High Lord mode, now, his indigo eyes sharp, his brow furrowed as he raced through everything he had learned, eyes tightening.
“Each amulet has a key,” he began.
“Yes, here. Some of the words are missing, though,” Starla said, flipping it over. “It appeared with my blood.”
Larkel's eyes tightened again as he read the words, fear blossoming there.
Starla felt her stomach drop. Was he remembering that book in his office, t
oo, and its words of death?
“We have lore on the Amulets of the Soreiaphin in our Library. Only a Soreiaphin can use that amulet. As you already have, I must assume. It is true that Kyron would never have allowed a Starborn to live. He murdered them during his war on Cosmaltia. I have no idea how you survived, then. And Kyron has a rather potent spell blocking this galaxy from outside entry. You should have died coming here. All that points to an extreme power. A true Soreiaphin's power,” he said, talking more to himself than to Starla, “Starla, we have to tell the King. And Medara.”
“I know.” She had felt the urgency in his thoughts, yet it wasn't the single-minded pursuit of safety and peace for Galatia that she had expected. A lot of it seemed aimed at her, fear tinting the edges. “I'll come with you. Galatia is my home, too, now,” she said, taking his hand firmly in hers.
Thoughts of Soreiaphin and amulets fled from him. Instead, a red box appeared then disappeared just as quickly. Starla looked into those indigo depths, revelling in the hope that burned there, now.
Larkel was torn. The box, his decision, his whole future. He kissed her, then sighed, running a finger along the silver circlet of his office.
“No, wait here. I will bring them here. There are too many spies, too many unknown enemies. It will be safer,” he said, smiling at Starla. “Here, I bought this for you.” He handed her the book.
“I will wait for you, here,” Starla said.
“I love you,” he murmured, fear kindling in his eyes briefly as he looked at the Star.
His kiss was fierce, his mind filled with protective thoughts.
“I love you, too,” she smiled. “Do you want to take this with you?” she held out the Star.
“No.” He closed his hands around hers. “Keep that hidden. It's your Soreiaphin Amulet. We can't let it fall into the wrong hands.” Gently, he slid the Star back under the material of dress, sending a shiver down her spine as his fingers traced along the chain.
With one last, lingering kiss, Larkel spun on his heel and left the secluded space down another dark garden path.