White Star (Wolves of West Valley Book 1)

by Sarah J. Stone

  “No,” Nathaniel shot back. “You don't know what it's like to be with more than one person. To have that agreement. To manage that.”

  “Which are not things we should know at all,” Desmond pointed out, and Nathaniel sighed.

  They stopped moving as they felt Sienna shift in the next room. It was a momentary jerk – probably a bad dream – and she settled down easily enough.

  “How is she?” Desmond asked, and Nathaniel sighed.

  “She's fine,” he said. “Or fine for her, at least. She got a scare in the park, though. Laura's Tiro, Devon, is just as unwell as she is, apparently. His is known and better managed, so he slowly dies without feeling much pain, unless they make a mistake in meds, which they did tonight. He'll be fine, too, but she's traumatized by it.”

  “And Laura takes warrior missions?” Desmond asked in shock.

  “Until the day he drops dead on one,” Nathaniel said, shaking his head. “Not something I agree with, obviously.”

  “But those things can be put aside when there are other matters,” Desmond replied, and Nathaniel rolled his eyes.

  “It was once, all right?”

  “Nathaniel, I am not the person to criticize you on this,” Desmond said, and leaned forward. “I am not your enemy; do not mistake me as such.”

  “I know.” Nathaniel ran a hand over his face. “I'm sorry. You just…when you came to get me, I imagined the worst.”

  “What is the worst?” Desmond prompted, trying to see where Nathaniel's mind was leading.

  “That Sienna was dead,” he said and Desmond smiled.

  “There was a time when that would not be the worst thing to you. You didn't want her, if I recall.”

  “There was,” Nathaniel answered. “The worst thing in the world at that time would have been Eliza not calling me back. Now I know that she is just busy, and I spend the moments in between missed calls checking in to see if my Tiro is still breathing. Which, she is.”

  “Life changes,” Desmond reminded him, thinking of his conversation with Dorian. “But the important thing to remember is that we are all still here.”

  “Or here again,” Nathaniel answered. “I imagine the library will be quite busy over the next few weeks while people try to figure this out. Are they…I mean, they are being tested, yes? They are alive?”

  “As alive as you and me,” Desmond answered. “He would like to meet you and Sienna in the morning. Do you have time?”

  “To meet the man who trained you?” Nathaniel grinned. “Of course. I have many questions to ask him. And stories to share.”

  “And if any of those prove embarrassing, I'm sure I can make sure you get a mission on a trash compactor,” Desmond grinned, standing up. “If I leave you to your proper duty tonight, will I trust that you remain alone?”

  “You can,” Nathaniel said. “I promise. I'm tired. Although, you should know this thing with Laura is not serious. You know my heart belongs to Eliza. It's just nice to have someone to talk to who understands what we are going through.”

  “Am I not enough of a conversation piece, Tiro?” Desmond questioned quietly. He wondered if he had failed Nathaniel, or had failed to be supportive enough.

  “No, you are,” Nathaniel assured him. “But for lack of a better term, she's young, like me. Devon is also her first, and to know that we will lose them, that way…”

  “But you don't know that,” Desmond said. “Anyone of us could drop dead tomorrow, Nathaniel. There's no use in thinking that way.”

  “Mmm,” Nathaniel answered quietly. “I know. I just–”

  “Don't dwell on it,” Desmond said as he got up. “We must live each day as if there is a tomorrow. As if Eliza will call you back tomorrow.”

  “She better call me back tomorrow,” Nathaniel said, grinning. “I can't think of anything I did to make her mad.”

  “Does she need a reason?” Desmond teased as he left Nathaniel's room. “Mariah doesn't.”

  “Can I tell Dorian?” Nathaniel asked. “About Eliza? I assume that's where you learned your own walking of the grey line from.”

  “You can tell him,” Desmond answered. “And he will be supportive, but he does not share the sentiment. I did not learn it from him; he did not endorse such a relationship. It just happened.”

  “Well, at least he won't cut my head off,” Nathaniel answered. “I look forward to meeting him. Get some sleep.”

  “And you,” Desmond replied as he left. It wouldn't be an easy night, but he felt safer and calmer than he had in a long time. His Maestro was back, his Tiro wasn't in the med bay, Mariah was meeting him for breakfast, and the Academy was not in danger.

  Despite the chaos and uncertainty swirling around him, it didn't seem like a bad night at all.

  He let himself into his own room, readying himself for bed quickly. He was tired, and the lights went out as quickly as they went on. He expected to sleep the night and wake at dawn as he always did.

  He did not expect Nathaniel to bang down his door at five a.m., his face pale and his jaw set.

  “Eliza is missing,” said his former Tiro. “And the Jeffroian palace is destroyed.”

  Desmond blinked as he stood at the doorway, the harsh, electric light wounding his eyes. “Destroyed?”

  “Blown up,” Nathaniel answered. “It's on the news. Desmond, I think she's dead.”

  Chapter 11

  “The reports coming out of Jeffro is that the palace was blown up about three hours ago,” Thomas said as they gathered in the Council rooms. “It was an inside job, likely someone who knows the layout of the palace itself. There were no survivors.”

  Nathaniel stumbled against Desmond who grabbed him before he fell. This was a dead giveaway that his relationship with the queen was more than just friendly, but neither of them cared. Nathaniel righted himself quickly, but his eyes were frantic.

  “Eliza was telling me something right before the attack. She thought that her cousin, Ladd, the one who kidnapped her, was back from the dead. I thought she was crazy, but when Dorian returned, I see that it's now possible. We have to get to the bottom of this. We have to–”

  “Nathaniel, we are peacekeepers,” Thomas said. “We are protectors. But more importantly, we do not go where we are not wanted. Unless someone on Jeffro invites us, we cannot simply turn up.”

  “We are search and rescue!” Nathaniel protested. “We protect those who cannot protect themselves. This is an attack on–”

  “The Jurors will not send a team to Jeffro until we know more,” Thomas said firmly. “And that will be the end of it. If you wish to be on that mission, we can consider your request. But right now, we wait for news. If the planet is not stable, we cannot risk your life.”

  “I don't care about my life,” Nathaniel said quickly. Desmond grabbed him before it was too late, throwing a hand over his mouth.

  “Come, Tiro,” he said firmly. “We are dismissed.”

  It took everything he had to drag Nathaniel out of the room. Frankly, given his former Tiro's energy and mouth, he was surprised this was the first time he ever had to do it. Nathaniel was shaking, somewhere between rage and shock.

  “We have to go.”

  “There is nothing we can do but wait and see,” Desmond said.

  “Sienna,” Nathaniel suddenly said. “Sienna could reach out to ping Eliza, even this far away. She has a connection with her ever since she brought her back.”

  “And every time she uses that kind of magic her stomach contents end up on the floor,” Desmond reminded Nathaniel. “Listen to me. No, stop talking and listen. Are you listening?”

  Nathaniel nodded, although it was with great difficulty.

  “As with every other great disaster this galaxy has been through, we will wait here at the Academy until we are told where we can best be used. It could be a few minutes; it could be a few hours. Eliza is smarter than everyone is giving her credit for. If there was an attack on the pala
ce, she and her team would have gotten out. I have no doubt about it.”

  “But…” Nathaniel started.

  “It's a twelve-hour trip to Jeffro. What if you are halfway there and find that you've wasted time because they've evacuated elsewhere? What if the next attack is here? What if Sienna needs you?”

  These words seemed to bring some sense into Nathaniel who took a deep breath. He wasn't calm – his hands still shaking – but he did loosen his shoulders a bit. Desmond awkwardly patted his arm.

  “Come on. I promised Dorian that you would meet him. I've arranged breakfast for all of us.”

  “All of us?” Nathaniel answered, confused.

  “Christa is here as well,” he said. “I can present my whole timeline to my former Maestro and wait for his judgment.”

  Normally, a joke like that would get a smile out of Nathaniel. Today, it got nothing. He glanced at his watch, sighing. “I'll shower and I'll meet you in your rooms? I don't think I could stand being in the cafeteria right now.”

  “It's a sound plan,” Desmond replied. “You call me if you need anything.”

  “It is just past six o'clock,” Nathaniel pointed out. “So, you call me if you need anything.”

  “Right.” Desmond paused and pinged Sienna, who was predictably still asleep. “I'll get her then.”

  “Thank you,” Nathaniel replied, turning on his heel. His mind was so distracted that he almost ran straight into a post. Luckily, his magic alerted him before his brain did, and he turned at the last second.

  That move, however, nearly made him run into Laura.

  “Whoa,” she said, grabbing him. “What's on fire?”

  “So much,” he answered. “We're on emergency call. The Jeffroian palace...is gone.”

  Laura gasped, putting her hand to her mouth. “Nathaniel, I'm so sorry,” she said.

  He gritted his teeth. “The Jurors say that there are no survivors,” he managed. “But I have hope. I'm just going to shower. I want to be ready to go just in case.”

  “Of course,” she said, and he realized how early it was.

  “Why are you awake?”

  “Haven't slept yet,” she admitted. “I didn't want to leave Devon.”

  “Of course,” Nathaniel said. “Is he all right?”

  “He's fine,” Laura replied. “But he's so rarely in pain that I don't like to leave him when he is.”

  “I understand,” Nathaniel answered. “He gave Sienna quite the scare. She was worried.”

  “She need not be,” Laura replied. “He has years, at least.”

  “Oh,” Nathaniel paused. “You have certainty? Or hope?”

  “Certainty, if statistics are any measure,” Laura shrugged, and then realized what she was saying. “I'm sorry. You have no certainty.”

  Nathaniel paused. “We keep hope. As I must do now.”

  She shook her head. “Of course. I'm sorry. I'm going to get some sleep. But if you need anything…”

  She met his eyes, and he was reminded of the passion that he shared with her the night before. It was so easy with her; there was no need for complicated conversation. They seemed to be mirror images of each other, knowing what the other was going through before words were even spoken.

  For one brief moment, he had a flash of what his potential future could be like. His life could be like this: effortless in matters of the heart, no distance, no confusion, and no explanations.

  He had always envied what Desmond and Mariah had and how they operated. There was a home to come to – not two distinct planets to visit. There was a shared language and shared knowledge; not panic every time they saw each other. They had time off together to do as they pleased, and no one wondered when they spent hours talking.

  He had been staring in her eyes for a few seconds before he realized that. He pulled back, shaking himself. “Sorry. I will,” he promised her, putting a hand on her shoulder. “Thank you.”

  “Of course,” she shrugged. “That's what friends are for.”

  “Right. Friends,” he said as she headed off. Was that was happening?

  He headed into his room with a daze, showering so quickly he wasn't even sure he remembered it. He was simply going through the motions, his ears perked for the sound of a video call. He was hoping against hope that Eliza would just call and tell him it was all a bad dream.

  But the call didn't come.

  He somehow made it to Desmond's chambers early. Only Christa sat there, clearly fresh off a mission. She smiled as Nathaniel came in. She was like a big sister to him, always one step ahead, always ready to share stories of Desmond's looks of terror.

  “How are you?” she said. “I heard.”

  He sighed. “I’m barely holding it together.”

  “Everything will be fine,” she assured him. “I can feel it.”

  “Thank you,” he replied, although he knew it was a lie.

  The door opened, and Sienna entered. Nathaniel, out of habit, pinged her vitals. She turned her head toward him, her eyes wide as she got a quick flash of his memory of the morning’s events.

  “I will check,” she said at once.

  “No!” He squeezed her hands as she came to him. “You'll make yourself sick, little one.”

  “But I can–”

  The door opened again, distracting both of them. Standing beside Desmond, tall and as alive as the day he left, Dorian looked upon the Tiros with a smile.

  “Well,” he said with the body language of an overjoyed grandfather, “I am so happy to meet all of you. Desmond has told me about you all.”

  “It's a unique opportunity.” Christa got up, her hand out to greet her Maestro's Maestro. “We may have crossed paths once or twice, but never like this. Welcome back from the other side.”

  “If that's what they are calling it now,” Dorian responded. “It frankly seems as if I never left. Except for the fact that everyone seems older. And you must be Nathaniel, the legendary warrior.”

  “I am Nathaniel,” the younger Maestro said. “I don't know about legendary, though.”

  “Yes,” Sienna shot out. “In my textbook, all the time.”

  “This is Sienna.” Desmond gave her a smile as Dorian turned to her. “My current Tiro.”

  “Hello,” Dorian said. He was impressed by her strength; he could already feel it before they touched. But he could also feel the fault in her stars, the acridid genes raging. “I hear you are going to be the one to save us all.”

  Sienna blushed, shaking her head. “No,” she answered. “I think not.”

  “We'll see about that,” Dorian answered. “But for now, shall we eat?”

  “That is Nathaniel's favorite activity,” Desmond answered, trying to distract Nathaniel from the horrors of the morning.

  But despite the reunion, Nathaniel did not feel like he was distracted. He was vaguely listening to them catch up, to the stories of their past, and to the laughter. But none of it calmed his heart. He checked his com-link every few minutes; he tried to hold his own ground in terms of the conversation. It was clear he was distracted, though, and Dorian soon brought it up.

  “I was once in a similar situation,” he said to Nathaniel, who jumped.

  “I'm sorry?” Nathaniel asked.

  “As you are in now. It wasn't with a foreign queen,” Dorian took a deep breath, “but it was one I cared deeply about: my brother.”

  “Your brother?” Nathaniel said in shock. “Was he also a witch?”

  “He was trained early on,” Dorian said. “But this life was not for him. He left the Academy at eighteen with another witch. It wasn't a dishonorable discharge, for you know that choosing to leave if one's heart isn't in it is acceptable. The space station he was on was attacked by rebel pilots.”

  “I never knew that,” Desmond said, watching his former Maestro. “Was he all right?”

  “He was,” Dorian answered, giving Nathaniel hope. “He returned a month later, hav
ing had to hitchhike his way across the galaxy. That month was the hardest month I had ever lived, but I had hope. Hope for the future, and it was what got me through.”

  “He left with another witch?” Sienna perked up beside Nathaniel. “He was in love?”

  “He was,” Dorian said. “Last I heard, he had three children and was very happy. It's hard to imagine another life outside the Academy, but I'm glad that he had one at all.”

  “I didn't know it was an…outlook?” Sienna's language failed her, but both her Maestros understood that she meant possibility.

  “It's not,” they both replied, and Sienna jumped at their unison.

  “I wasn't thinking of it,” she said, looking down at her plate. She knew that she shouldn't even speak of such things. But given their examples, it was hard not to at least dream. The memory of Devon's kiss was all too real for her.

  Chapter 12

  “How are you enjoying school?”

  Sienna looked up in joy as they finished the meal. Although Dorian's voice was strongly accented, it appeared he had some grip on the Jeffroian language.

  “Challenging,” she answered. “But I enjoy it.”

  “Sienna,” Desmond said, as he took the dishes to the sink. “You can answer in Basic, please.” He turned to Dorian. “My apologies, Maestro. It's a struggle already.”

  “Of course,” Dorian replied, the smile of an indulgent grandparent recognizing the rules that his adult children set out for their own protégés. “Your Basic is quite good, though I heard you didn't speak it at all when you came.”

  “I learned.” Sienna traced the pattern on the table cloth. “But I still prefer…otherwise.”

  “Do you know I didn't speak any Basic when I came here?” Christa gave her a smile. “My Maestro raised me multilingual, so it took me a lot longer to have a solid grip on anything. As a pilot, it's worked out well, for I never seem to be in the same language belt twice.”

  “Your Maestro…” Sienna's eyes darted to Desmond, and then she remembered. She reached out to Christa – who was surprised by her force – in order to see her former Maestro.

  She saw a smiling woman who was middle aged, with long, brown hair and a kind smile. Graceful and tall, the woman looked over her shoulder, as if seeing something pleasant.