Starwalker (Starborn 1) (Sci-Fi Fantasy Romance)

by P. Jameson

  When Canna entered the kitchen, Ula’s head snapped up, her eyes darting around nervously.

  Strange.

  But she was probably just wondering if Canna had disrupted any of her customers.

  “Cannalise? I thought—”

  Canna spoke quickly, not waiting for Ula to ask her to leave. “I have news for you.”

  The female’s face became grim. “What has happened?”

  Under her mask of indifference, Canna frowned. Ula was acting so strange. Nervously twisting her robe in her hands, eyes constantly darting to the doorway. Maybe a normal person wouldn’t have picked up on the ticks but Canna had trained herself to notice such things.

  “Emma was attacked in the street tonight.”

  Breckken entered the kitchen behind her. He nodded at Ula but said nothing.

  “Oh… my.” Ula’s gnarled hand fluttered to her throat. “What do you mean attacked?”

  Canna couldn’t let go of the foreboding she felt. The sixth-sense warning had never failed her. If anything, her gut instinct was one of the reasons she’d survived all these years. She’d just stick to the basics with Ula, maybe even slur a few details. Something was… off.

  “Ruffians in the street. They just hassled her a bit. Breckken and Gilleth chased them away, but she sent me to tell you she wouldn’t be in tonight.”

  To the wren’s credit, he didn’t even flinch at Canna’s blatant lie.

  Ula stared with mile-wide eyes—too much of a reaction for it to be real—and then turned to the wren.

  “You could not capture them?”

  He shook his head and looked ashamed. “No ma’am. They proved quite elusive.”

  “Well… as long as Emmalyn is alright. Thank you. Thanks to you both.”

  “I will check on her before I return home,” Canna added.

  “Yes, yes. And I will close early tonight. Thank you for coming to me.”

  Canna nodded, turning on her heel to leave. She didn’t have to look over her shoulder to know the wren had followed her out. And now he would want to know why she’d lied. Why couldn’t he just leave her alone and let her take care of things? Emma was her business, not his. Well, aside from the fact that she’d been attacked by enemies of the Guard.

  Outside, they walked in silence as she waited for him to ask the inevitable.

  “Care to tell me what that was all about?”

  “No.”

  “Let me rephrase. Care to tell me why I just lied to Emmalyn’s aunt?”

  Well, damn. He did have a right to know why she’d made him a liar.

  “Something was off with Ula.”

  “What do you mean?”

  She shook her head, not really sure.

  “She was wringing her hands. And her eyes… they flitted around the room as if she were expecting something to jump out at her.”

  He stopped walking, and for some reason, she did too.

  “There might be more of them,” he said. “They might have threatened Ula or even come after her like they did Emmalyn.”

  But Canna had another thought. “Or she could be one of them. She could be working with them. Maybe that’s how they knew where to find Emma.”

  He cocked his head and she almost dared him to disagree with her, to call her out on her theory. She needed it to be ridiculous. The idea that Ula would betray her own family to the Helix was disturbing.

  But he didn’t. Instead, he nodded slowly as if he was thinking it through. Yes, this wren was a thinker. Not a hothead like Canna. He probably kept his footwool folded neatly in a drawer and organized by shades of color.

  She wasn’t sure why she thought the worst of Ula. It was just… she had looked… guilty. Canna had become perpetually suspicious of others. Even those she’d known her entire life.

  “There’s no way to know Ula’s part in this, but one thing is sure. I cannot leave her until I know she is safe from the Helix.” His voice was low and gravelly.

  He had a nice voice, this wren. If she allowed it, that tone would dance along her nerve endings, soothing the rough edges of the day. That voice could be her comfort.

  But she wouldn’t allow it. Would never.

  Canna sighed in annoyance. “I need to tell Emma to keep quiet about the Helix.”

  “Wait a while. I’ll check out the kafé and make sure it’s all clear.”

  “I have no reason to wait for you. You go your way and I’ll go mine.”

  He glanced at the eatery. And then at her, repeating the back and forth motion several times.

  “I can’t stand not knowing whether you’re safe,” he mumbled, and she thought it was a strange thing for him to say since he’d just now started being protective of her.

  “I’ve been keeping myself safe for all my life. Even before Rowene.”

  He smiled fiercely and she almost had to step back. He was brilliant when he did that. The way his lips spread in a proud arc, like he wanted the entire star to see him smile at her. It was disarming.

  “I know,” he said.

  Her mouth opened to say something but her mind forgot what it was, so out came nothing. He closed more of the distance between them, carefully tracing one finger down her cheek.

  And she let him. Ridiculous as it was, she let him touch her. His finger left a tingly trail on her skin. Almost burning, but not quite.

  Like poison. Dangerous.

  “I know because I’ve been here the whole time, watching you, waiting.”

  Waiting for what?

  She turned her face away from his touch and stepped back. Yes, it stung her to be the one backing down from a confrontation. But in this case, it seemed smart.

  He dropped his hand but she felt the burn of his eyes upon her.

  “I’ll check on Ula while you talk to Emma. But…” He hesitated. “Only if you’ll agree to meet with me afterward.”

  Her head snapped up to glare at him.

  “Find me under the bridge in an hour. I have to know you’re safe. I won’t let you go until you agree.”

  “Really. Like you could stop me.”

  “I wouldn’t try to stop you. I would simply follow you as I’ve been doing.”

  “And then what about Ula? What if she’s in danger?”

  His face became hard and determined. “No one takes precedence over my Heartbeat. Your safety is more important to me than Ula’s and that’s just the way it is.”

  She stared at him, careful not to show any emotion. He had her over a barrel because he could be right about Ula. And she couldn’t be responsible for any harm coming to the woman.

  “Fine. I’ll meet you,” she said with no intention of actually doing so.

  His gaze bore into her, looking for deceit, but he wouldn’t find any.

  “Very well. The bridge. In an hour.”

  She nodded, expecting him to take off. But no, he let his eyes roam all over her as if he half expected to never see her again. Which would be just fine.

  “Canna…” His voice was breathy, and he didn’t even try to hide the desperation in his gaze. “Please, please be careful. I… I care so much for you. I know you don’t believe me and this has been a long, confusing night. Just… please be careful.”

  It wasn’t his words that got to her. Words could be false, and meaningless. Words could build up just to be torn down by deeds. But the ferocity in his eyes. Like he was determined to make a point. Like he wanted to hammer it through her skull. And he might as well try because she didn’t understand it—not at all.

  “I’ll be fine. I always am.”

  He grabbed her hand, and she tried to pull away but he held tight, his long fingers wrapping around hers in a way that made her wish things could be different. Wish she could be different.

  “That’s not good enough. Promise me you’ll be careful, Cannalise. I need to hear you say it.”

  There was a standoff, his will against hers, but then she realized he wasn’t going to release her until she relented.

  “I pr
omise. Now let go of me.” Her tone was as deadly as she could make it when her only thought was of escaping the wren who made her heart feel things she didn’t want to feel.

  With reluctance, he let go, and Canna hurried away from him. She knew he watched her until she was out of sight, but she didn’t look back.

  Chapter Seven

  Davian, leader of the Helix, paced back and forth inside his tent, hating that his abode was a dwelling made of canvas while the inhabitants of the city lavished away in castles of glistening splendor. He took a long, deep breath hoping to ease his anger into a more subtle annoyance.

  The mission had been thwarted. He knew it because the soldiers he’d sent to An`gel had not returned with the target and there had been no communication since they’d entered the city.

  This was bad. Very bad.

  Now he’d have to pull his spies from the borders and send in another team to fetch the target. And this was only stage one of the takedown of An`gel. If his men and women couldn’t handle such a simple mission, how would they fare through stages two through four?

  He viciously kicked away a too small chair, sending it flying into one of the canvas walls. He hated the thing as much as he hated the Ice Dwellers. It reminded him of everything he wanted but couldn’t have. For example, he wanted a bigger fucking chair. One the size of a throne perhaps. But no, he had this rinky-dinky thing with four spindly little legs.

  Fists clenched, he forced his breath in through his nose and out his mouth. Calm, calm, calm.

  He hated having to work on his temper but it was so very necessary. If he wanted to be king someday he had to make people think he was in complete control—including of himself.

  Yes… calm.

  Just the mere thought of ruling Brilliette had him smiling in earnest.

  Everyone thought royals were obsolete, no longer of import, essentially useless though they were respected for their station. But he knew the truth of it: royal blood was the only saving grace for the star and the people who dwelt thereon. It had been foretold by the Fates… and the Fates were never wrong. Even though Davian didn’t know in what context the star would need saving, he was smart enough to pay heed to the prophetic ramblings of the sisters when they’d come to him in a dream.

  No, he would not ignore such a golden little nugget. And soon, he would have his own royal to lord over. To use for his benefit whenever the shit fell on An`gel. To dole out to his people if they pleased him.

  Soon, all would bow to him… because they would have to.

  They would have to or they would die.

  And he couldn’t wait for that day to come.

  ***

  The tossing and the turning wasn’t working for Emmalyn. She couldn’t seem to get warm even though the ket seemed to be working properly. One more flop from her back to her front and she was done. Throwing the thick fur blankets from her legs, she got up and padded downstairs in her footwool. As she went, she felt her eyes swell with tears but she blinked them back, determined to make the night hers again.

  In the kitchen, she got out a mug and filled the kettle with water—water that flowed easily from the tap. Something she still wasn’t used to after almost eleven centuries.

  Eleven. Centuries.

  Tears burned hotter at her lids. And then they spilled over without caring at all that she was telling them to stay put.

  She set the kettle on the stove and got the canister of loose tea from the cabinet. As the tears streamed down freely, she went about the kitchen gathering the spoon, the sugar, the cream.

  The shrill whistle of the kettle caused her to jump, and she knocked the tea canister onto the floor. The dark brown contents scattered all over the cold stone, and somehow it reminded her of herself—scattered and loose and waiting for someone to sweep her up… someone with dark hair and blue eyes and strong arms.

  She knelt next to the tea and started scooping it back into the canister.

  A quiet knock on the kitchen window brought her head around. It was Gilleth, looking through the glass, his gaze concerned. Emma brushed quickly at her eyes, and went to the window, swinging it open. Cold air rushed in but she was glad because it felt good on her too hot face.

  “Yes?”

  His brows curled over his water-colored eyes. “Is all well? I heard a noise.”

  Emma jerked her head in the direction of the canister that lay on the floor behind her.

  “Dropped some tea is all. I’m well.”

  His eyes grazed the mess on the floor before finding her face once more. “Are you sure?”

  To avoid his gaze, she went to the closet for the broom and dust pan, and busied herself cleaning up the brown powder.

  “Emma… why are you crying?”

  She shook her head. “Not your worry, wren.”

  Sweep, sweep. Into a neat little pile of granules.

  “Emmalyn, answer me. Why do you cry this night?” When she only kept sweeping his voice got sharper. “Why, Emma? Why do you still cry? Are you afraid? Worried?”

  “I do not wish to tell you.”

  “Well… I wish to know.”

  Frustration spiked, making her words fly. “You do not wish to know. In fact, if I was to tell you, you would no doubt leave immediately and never speak to me again. And wouldn’t that be fitting since you’ve said more to me this night than you have in the whole sum of years since we met.”

  There was a long silence as she went back to cleaning up the floor.

  Gilleth must have reached into the open window and unlocked the door because it creaked open and then she heard boots pounding on the stone. Ignoring him, she knelt down to brush the tea into the dust pan.

  He went to one knee next to her, took her chin in his hand and tilted her head up so she was forced to look at him. The gray of his eyes seemed to glint with flecks of silver and his voice was oddly gentle. “Please, tell me what has made you cry?”

  She wasn’t even aware that more tears had breached her eyes until they ran down her cheeks and he wiped them away with his thumb.

  “Why?” he whispered.

  She shouldn’t do it. She knew it was wrong. But how could she keep from spilling what her soul felt when his hands were so gentle upon her.

  “I cry because… because my heart longs for you. Even though it doesn’t beat and I am not yours… I long for you.”

  She couldn’t believe she’d said the words. Out loud. They were alive and hanging in the air between them.

  He yanked his hand back and stood quickly. The look of horror on his face had her turning back to the mess on the floor—better to look at the mess she could fix rather than the other.

  Before anything else could be said, another knock pulled their attention to the window. Cannalise stood just outside the door. Had she heard Emma’s confession? But she knew she could trust the maiden. Cannalise was her friend. Even if she didn’t want to be.

  ***

  Gilleth had only a second to recover before the knock on the window had him reeling again. He turned, ready for anything: the Helix, dragons, a tripled-headed dog, whatever... but it was just Cannalise.

  The maiden stood silently in the open doorway, that painfully eerie blank look on her face. Gill thought the woman had exactly two expressions: angry and nothing. Nothing was the one she used most often—the one she was using now.

  “Canna,” Emma said on a shaky exhale. “Can I help you?”

  Cannalise looked at her in a way that told Gill she saw too much. Her face might be vacant but her eyes held a knowing glint.

  “I came to inform you that I indeed spoke with Ula. She was very worried for you and intends to close the kafé early to return home.”

  Emma nodded as she went to put the broom and dustpan away. “Thank you, Canna. And thank you for defending me tonight.”

  Cannalise bowed her head slightly. “You know I do so without expectation of gratitude. I would suggest you say nothing of the Helix to Ula.”

  This was said as a side n
ote but something about her voice caught Gill’s attention and he narrowed his eyes on her. Emma was busying herself with the cabinet so she didn’t see Canna shake her head at Gill, as if to keep him quiet. And when he opened his mouth to speak she gave him a glare so cold he thought his soul might freeze.

  Damn.

  The term “if looks could kill” never seemed more fitting.

  Emma broke the silence. “Yes, I think that is a good idea. She would only worry herself if she knew the details. I will say nothing.”

  Canna nodded, her gaze going back and forth between Gill and Emma. “Has all been well here?”

  “Oh, yes,” Emma said quickly. “I couldn’t sleep so I came down for some tea. I made a wee mess of things, is all.”

  Canna’s inquiring glare swung to Gill and stayed there. He held her gaze, not willing to back down under her scrutiny. After all, he didn’t like her that much and cared even less about her opinion of him. In fact, in Gilleth’s eyes, she had only two things going for her: that she was Breckken’s Heartbeat and that she had helped save Emma tonight.

  Emma cleared her throat awkwardly and Canna looked away.

  “I will see you tomorrow then, Emmalyn. Send word if you are in need of anything. I shall be available to you.”

  “Thank you again, friend,” Emma said.

  Cannalise froze. Just went rigid, as if she was an ice sculpture.

  Gill looked around wondering if she’d sensed some danger. But there was nothing. He cocked his head and stared at her unmoving form: blank face, stiff shoulders, defensive stance. Was this maiden always ready to do battle? Always so wary, so… afraid?

  Yes, she was afraid.

  And that was funny because Gilleth had always thought her fearless. But no, she was afraid of the little things. For example, something about Emma calling her friend had sparked this reaction.

  She seemed to pull herself together, nodded and left the same way she came.

  Gill followed her out.

  “Hey, wait.” But she marched on, ignoring him. “Excuse me, Cannalise.”