Look to the Stars (The Orien Trilogy Book 1)

by Catherine Wilson

  “Well, well, Aras. I see you’ve caught us another mouse.”

  Though the fire now burns within sight, the darkened light still leaves much for the imagination. A dark cloak covers the man before us from head to toe, but his eyes shine out from underneath his hood in a silent challenge.

  “Of course, Reeve, and she’s a quick one, too,” Aras responds smoothly, risking a flick of his eyes in my direction.

  The cloaked one lets out an obnoxious laugh, and Aras immediately joins in with him. Ashen help us if this man isn’t revved up on tonic, because if this is his true personality, I’m not sure I can take it.

  He steps forward, slapping Aras on the shoulder and eyeing me with a hard stare. “Come on then. Any friend of yours is a friend of mine. Let’s have something to eat. I’m sure you have much to tell.”

  Aras nods before looking back and motioning for me to follow. An uneasy smile lights his face, and I struggle to plaster one against my own. If this is where I meet my doom, I’ll come back to haunt him. I swear it.

  It doesn’t take long for our path to open up, revealing lighted torches spaced throughout a lavish camp. Makeshift tables are spread out across the large, rounded opening, places where wood has been cut to make room for meeting. My eyes dart to the sky, hoping to catch a glimpse of the cool blue above, but I’m only met with the mingling of trees. Their limbs stretch up and over like clasping hands, forever keeping me in the dark. Large tarps hang across from the treetops, protecting us from the elements. With the thickness of the leaves, I have little doubt that they’re for actual looks rather than necessity. My eyes hover back to the opening before me, and I spot a small, wooden shack built leaning against the towering trunks.

  Apparently, this new friend has it made.

  “The trees have a way of protecting us, don’t they?” his slick voice calls to me from across the fire pit burning in the center of his humble home. “Just when you think you’ve cut them away, they come crawling back, stronger than they were before.”

  I nod, hoping he’s referring to the twisting fingers above, and not something more abstract like a lost Orien princess, perhaps. My eyes flit to find Aras, settling down into an easy perch upon one of the nearest benches. I follow his lead, moving across the way and sitting within clutching distance, should the need arise. An uneasy silence follows, and I take the opportunity to study the unsettling man before me. With his cloak now tossed carelessly to the side, I can see that he’s young, not much older than Aras, if that. His dark pants and ragged shirt don’t surprise me in the least, but the sight of his pale skin peeking out from the edges wrinkles my brow. There’s not a speck of paint upon his flesh, and his cool complexion makes his buzzed blond hair almost disappear in the dim light. It’s the first time I’ve ever seen a Lost without his paint.

  “Do you like what you see?” he asks, a wry smile pulling at his lips.

  “Not particularly,” I say, matching his tone.

  His head tilts back, a loud hoot lifting to the sky. I’m beginning to think The Lost respond to everything with savage laughter. “Where did you find this one, Aras?”

  “Wouldn’t you like to know?” I seethe before Aras places a warning hand against my arm. He lets out what seems to be a nervous giggle, and my eyes dart to his figure, sincerely concerned that he may have swallowed some of this man’s tonic when I wasn’t looking.

  “She can be a bit feisty at times, but I think you’ll find her to be just as harmless as a kitten.”

  “And yet my scratches still sting.” I smile with a shrug, as if Aras’ very words don’t make me want to pounce on his back.

  “So I’ve noticed.” Reeve smirks, standing to grab what looks to be an assortment of wild fruits. He plops the basket beside me on the bench. “Now, eat up, Kitten, or do you have another name you prefer to go by?”

  My nose scrunches in unshielded disgust and I cross my arms, pinning them tightly to my chest. “Brave,” I say.

  At the same time, Aras says, “Bravest.”

  We shoot each other a disparaging look before Aras grabs a handful of some berries with one hand and my arm with another.

  “If you’ll excuse us, Reeve. It seems that our newest recruit and I still have a lot to talk about.”

  Aras’ fingers tighten around my muscles as he all but drags me to the corner of the clearing, out of eyesight behind Reeve’s shack. The light from the torches bounces off his features, making him look almost feral in the near dark. “Did you not hear the part of our conversation when I said he was a friend?”

  “Of course.” I bristle, trying to break his hold. “It’s not my fault that you neglected to mention his bubbling personality.”

  Aras finally releases my arm, only to stun me by placing his careful hands upon my cheeks. Our breaths mingle in the shadowy light, and his eyes search my own, begging me to believe something that I’m not sure I’ll ever be able understand. “He owes me a favor, Bravest, and in these woods, that’s about as close to friendship as it gets.”

  “I don’t know,” I mumble, my mind flashing to the panther and my dream. Although there’s a part of me that aches to tell him, there’s a more rational part that wants to keep my secret hidden. Safe. “It just seems like there’s something off about him. I just—I’m not sure we can trust him.”

  He sighs, dropping his hands to his sides and releasing me from his spell. His fingers rake through his dark hair, now left curling on its ends. “He’s fine. We’re fine.” He says it firmly, as if trying to convince himself as much as he is me. “But enough of that, already,” he says with a faint smile. “Has anyone ever told you that you have a sassy mouth?”

  His change in demeanor surprises me, and my reaction is from the gut. “Never,” I say.

  Aras rolls his eyes, a gesture that’s becoming devastatingly elegant on him, and if Darcy could see it, I’d dare say she’d call it a vision. “You shouldn’t lie, Bravest—”

  “I know.” I groan, tilting my chin up into the treetops as if I could see the sky above. “I’m not very good at it.”

  Twenty-Three

  The rest of the afternoon, if you can indeed call it that within the spooky confines of the hovering trees, passes just as painfully slow as one might imagine it to. Aras, the poor soul, works himself tirelessly trying to keep the conversation going while simultaneously keeping me silent. Lucky enough for him, the current situation has put a true damper on my assurance that I’ll make it out of this place alive, and the tension has caused me to bottle up like a cork on one of Darcy’s well-hidden treats. The trouble, I fear, is that even the tiniest of pokes may cause me to explode, spewing only the ugliest of insults and leaving behind a sticky, uncomfortable mess.

  I must make a strong effort to keep my lid on tight.

  Reeve, although I know he’s curious, and dangerously so, keeps to himself for the most part rarely acknowledging my presence, unless I’m in the way. Aras, the traitor, seems to be perfectly content with my ostracism, as he, too, keeps his line of vision on anything but my ever-souring figure. The two fools should consider themselves lucky if I don’t learn how to do magic myself to burn down this very camp while they sleep. The thought of it calls a nasty frown to my lips, and I cover my face with dirty hands, determined to at least hide my features if these woods can indeed read my mind. Although I am angry and have every right to be, I wouldn’t do that with my magic. No matter how angry I was, I couldn’t. Right?

  “You look as if you’re miserable,” Reeve says, surprising me by plopping down on my makeshift seat along his camp’s inner border. It’s a fallen log, and from the look and feel of it, almost rotten to the core. For a brief moment, I imagine the bark giving way and the horrified look upon Reeve’s face when he finds himself looking up at me from the ground. To my disappointment, the bark holds strong, and I find myself looking up to meet his questioning eyes.

  It seems there are now three traitors within my midst. Ungrateful log.

  Carefully, I toss a look
over my shoulder, a predictable Aras now moving nervously about. I know the two of them have carried on easily enough throughout these past hours at camp, but I know very little of what they’ve discussed. Whether because Aras is still betting on me keeping my mouth shut, or he’s too dense to understand that I can roll with his lies, I’m not sure. Whatever the case may be, I’m determined to tread lightly. Well, light-ish.

  “Aren’t we all in some form of misery? Those of us who are lucky enough to come to you, I mean.”

  Reeve shrugs, but a new light now shines across his peculiarly clean face. “That depends on where you are from. There are varying degrees of misery, Kitten.”

  My fingers twitch, and I fight the urge to hurl him off the log, though I’m smart enough to know that even my fury can’t handle his weight. Instead, I decide to play his mouse, a careful dance around the pawing cat. “And I can only assume that Aras filled you in on my situation.”

  At this, he tilts on our unstable bench, one hand sliding dangerously close to my back. “He told me you are from Orien. A defector, looking for a purpose.” His words whisper too close to my ear, and I fight the chills that threaten to run up my neck.

  “But you don’t believe him,” I state, staring straight ahead into the deep woods before me.

  He grunts before pushing back, a wave of welcoming air flooding the now-vacant space between us. “I know not to. The trees have eyes, and they all report back to me. You didn’t meet him in Orien. When he first came through our woods, he was alone.”

  His words, though they have the potential to strangle, don’t surprise me in the least. I knew the moment I smelled the intoxicating smoke that this man would be a problem, and I also knew even though Aras fancies himself a smooth talker, it wasn’t just any talk that was going to get us out of this mess. In other words, I knew I’d have to make a plan of my own.

  “You’re right,” I croon, causing him to stiffen. “We didn’t meet in Orien, but that is my home. I came following the trail of Bates. The members of my group believed he was up to no good, and they sent me to track him down. After all, he had to be in great need of something—to kill for it and all.”

  In a mere second, his body is upon me, one arm wrapped tightly around my shoulders while the other grips my chin, forcing me to look into his dark eyes. “You lie.”

  There’s a rustle behind us, before his hand is yanked free from my chin. Aras and Reeve stumble in front of me until Aras rights them, holding fiercely to the collar of his friend’s rumpled shirt.

  “What is wrong with you?” Aras all but growls, his voice echoing through the trees. My heart pounds, and I envision the savages swinging down from the branches, pinning us with their arrows. The eyes of the trees.

  “It’s nothing, Aras,” I say, jumping forward to grab his arm.

  Aras tenses, but he doesn’t let go. With a heated glare, he darts his eyes between us, watching to see what Reeve plans next. It’s me who surprises him though, prying his hand loose when Reeve makes no attempt.

  “I said it’s nothing.” The very words threaten to burn my lips, but I let them out anyway. “Not everything has to do with you, you know. Leave us be.”

  His usually brilliant eyes flash with an ugly hurt, and I struggle to keep my careless expression under control. He lets go of Reeve with an angry sneer, pushing him back before banging against my shoulder as he moves to make his way into the folds of camp. My insides twist, begging me to follow, but I hold my ground, determined to accomplish at least this one thing on my own.

  Safety. For us both.

  Reeve’s eyes find mine, that ever-curious light now glowing even brighter. “I must say, I wasn’t expecting that.”

  “His reaction or mine?” I probe.

  “Both,” he says, beckoning me with his hand to sit back along our perch.

  “There is one thing you must know about me, Reeve, and that one thing is this—I do not lie. I do what is the best for me, yes, but I do not lie. There are others in Orien who don’t like the way things are going, I’d imagine much like yourself, and if we don’t do something soon, then we’ll all be lost. And I don’t mean a part of your little territory either.”

  He swallows, taking me in, before deciding he’ll hear my words. “And this group. They sent you?”

  “Yes.”

  “And they sent you alone?”

  “Of course. It’s easier to hide one track than it is a dozen. You said it yourself. The woods have eyes, Reeve. We’re not above noticing that. We’re also not above considering that we all might be on the same side. If that’s the case, then there’s nothing to fear, now is there?”

  My words reach far and wide, hoping to find any stable ground to sink my hook into. Though I know little of Orien and her ways, my gut tells me that a man like Reeve feels little heart left for the territory or her people. In fact, it tells me he feels betrayed—left alone to wither away in the grandness of the woods. From what Aras says, there aren’t many people left who believe that Knox can be overcome, much less want him to be. I need to convince Reeve that there’s hope. That there’s more to Orien than it seems. And perhaps there is. Once I’ve found my papa, perhaps there is me.

  “And did you accomplish your mission?” he asks, leaning in once more as I carefully try to inch away.

  “No, but I did meet Aras, and that has turned out to be as much a blessing as it is a curse.”

  He smiles then, a subtle change in his eye. I almost let out a breath, but I force my lungs to hold it in. For the first time, I think he believes me, though I’m not sure if I’ve just made the situation better or worse. “Yes, he is an interesting mixture of both, now isn’t he?”

  “Oh, he is, but I have a feeling Aras may hold the key to helping us all. I couldn’t pass up an opportunity when I saw one. I think it’s within all of our best interests to work with him, don’t you agree?”

  “Most definitely, as long as he continues to hold the same values as us.”

  “He does,” I say with confidence, standing to rise before Reeve catches my wrist, pulling me down close. Too close.

  “You’ve intrigued me for now, Kitten, but I’d still watch your step.”

  “Don’t call me kitten,” I say, leaning forward, to whisper in his ear. “It makes me want to maul your face, and that would be such a pity for us both.”

  This time when I move to stand, his grip slips free, and he lets me go. Just as my heart begins to beat once more and I fight the need to run to Aras’ angry side, his words call to me, wrapping me up like the tendrils from his fire. “So, Bravest, is it?”

  I still, my boots sticking to the ground. “It’s a nickname.”

  “Sounds more like a term of endearment if you ask me.”

  As if they were a blade, his words slice deep, causing a weary ache to form within my bones. It hurts, and for the first time, I think I may be afraid. “I would like to refrain from the knowledge of what things sound like to your ears, dear Reeve.”

  “Sounds like I’m right.” He smirks.

  “Possibly,” I admit, “but right now, it sounds like we need some space.”

  And I leave him there, with nothing to stare at but the dust of my retreat.

  Twenty-Four

  After an all but silent meal of unidentifiable meat and stale bread, I’ve yet to succeed in catching Aras’ gaze, much less spoken to him. With each passing second, my head throbs with a greater ache as my last words to him play over and over to the most depressing of tunes. Although I didn’t want to damage the fragile coexistence we’ve created, it felt necessary at the time. Now, as I watch his stiff back and permanent scowl ruin his frustratingly perfect face, I can’t help but wonder if it was. Reeve, the lovely fellow, seems to be enjoying the tension as he stretches his arms up high over his head and yawns in the loudest of ways.

  “I think I’m done for,” he says, throwing his leftover bone into the fire and carefully licking the mystery meat’s grease off his fingers, while I valiantly suppress
a shudder. Rising to his feet, he moves to rustle Aras’ messy hair, but he stops him with a wild, unhinged look in his eye. Smartly, Reeve settles for a quick pat on the back before nodding my way.

  “Goodnight, Bravest. Don’t keep him up too late.”

  He moves toward his shack, but I stop him not two steps in. “It’s Brave, to you.”

  He looks back at me, a small smile playing on his lips, before finally nodding once more. “I’d like to say it’s been a pleasure, Brave, but I don’t think you’d believe me.”

  With that, he walks to his room, a wooden door closing with the click of a latch. I let out a deep breath, realizing if I’m ever going to break the sour mood, it’s without the attentive ears and eyes of Reeve.

  “Where will we sleep?” I ask, hoping the mention of rest will at least ease some of the tension left kneading knots in our backs.

  For the first time all night, Aras tips his head up, one hand pointing directly across the way from Reeve’s station. “I usually sleep there when I’m here,” he says, referring to a tan tarp stretched out across the trees. “It has flaps that fall down around its sides, giving it more privacy. You can stay there if you’d like.”

  “And what of you?” I ask, secretly wishing that his plans are to follow me there. The last thing I need is to have any late-night run-ins with Reeve. Even knowing we may well explode from close proximity, having Aras near does make me feel safe.

  Somewhat.

  “I’m not sure yet.” He shrugs, still not looking me in the eye. “I’m not very tired.”

  Perfect. Not only is he sour, but now he’s resorted to the spewing of lies. This situation calls for something that Darcy says I very rarely do, and he better be thankful for it.

  “Well, for what it’s worth, I’d prefer it to be something close.” I pause, reaching out to grab his arm. He jumps at my touch, but he doesn’t pull away. A tiny cheer of victory sings within my heart. “I didn’t mean what I said today,” I whisper. “I was just trying to protect us.”