by Kara Jaynes
“How’s Lyra?” Stella asks quietly as we walk.
“Fine,” I reply. “She’s still here in the fortress, but she’ll be allowed to leave shortly. She doesn’t appear to wield any magic, so we don't have any use for her.”
When we reach Stella’s room, I open the door. Women are more than capable of opening doors for themselves, but I read that it's polite for a male to do so when able. “Don’t fret over your brother,” I say. “Quinn will be safe as long as he is here. Me’tar are very important. We won't allow any harm to come to him.”
Stella nods. “You'll make him stay here, won’t you?”
“Yes, of course. He's probably our most important find to date, Stella. The only human that could be possibly more crucial to our cause would be a sylph or a gaia.”
Stella frowns, her nose wrinkling. “What are those?”
“A sylph is an air elemental, and a gaia is an earth being. Both are extremely important in healing and preserving this planet.”
“Okay,” Stella says, but she replies too quickly. She runs slim fingers through her hair, and she gnaws her lower lip.
“What is wrong?” I ask.
“You were upset about what I said a few days ago.” Her face flushes, and she looks away. “When I was trying to save Quinn. You remember what I said.”
“I do,” I reply. Heat stirs in my gut. Anger. “What of it?”
“I—” Stella bites her lip and then says everything in a rush, like she can’t get the words out fast enough. “I was desperate to protect my brother. So, I guess, um, I don’t know if you expect me to, well, us to. I mean, I did say . . .” She trails off awkwardly.
The tips of my ears feel like they’re on fire, but I do my best to stare down coldly at her. “What kind of man do you take me for, Stella?”
“What do you mean?” she asks.
“I’m not going to force you,” I say. A growl bubbles up in my throat, and it’s an effort to school my face back to calmness. “I know the Kenelky doesn’t work properly with humans, it would seem, so if you go through with this, it will be because you want to, not because you have to.”
I turn to leave. I can’t believe she thinks me so heartless. I do not act heartless. Do I?
Stella reaches out, her fingers grasping my shirt sleeve. “Wait, please.”
I want to storm away in icy dignified silence, but I can’t seem to move, powerless under the frail grasp on my arm. I wait and listen, my jaw clenched.
“I didn’t mean to offend you. If I did, I’m sorry. I was wrong about you, and the elves. You’re strange, cold, and seemingly indifferent. But you're not really like that, Eldaren, despite your efforts. Underneath that icy exterior is a heart that beats on kindness. You see the world differently than I do, but you're still a good person.” She blinks, looking like she's surprised she said so much.
Can she see me, then? Really see? She'd be the first human to try to understand the elves, that I know of.
I swallow, trying to work moisture into my mouth. I found something in her room, in the dilapidated structure she calls home, something that could change everything. I step into her room, and she stumbles back, face paling when I close her door. “I just want to talk,” I say.
She relaxes visibly and has the grace to look a little shamefaced. “Of course.”
Digging my fingers into my trouser pocket, I procure a small, silver ring, set with a little false diamond. “You told me you didn't have any romantic interests, yet you keep a ring in your room. Why?” At that moment, it suddenly occurs to me that perhaps it had belonged to her mother, and that Stella was keeping it as a token of remembrance. That is an elven custom as well as human. We hold on to items that have sentimental value.
Stella gazes at the ring in my hand, and my chest constricts at the sight of sudden tears welling in her eyes. “I was once engaged, Eldaren.”
“When?” Stars in the sky, that explains her hesitation to be with me.
Stella is still in love.
I hadn't made the connection before, but I can see it now, the pain, grief, and longing, warring in her gaze, as she stares at that little ring. How is the Kenelky even possible when her heart is still full of so much love for someone else? Why? Who had stolen her heart?
“His name was Wilder,” Stella says, her face scrunching. She’s trying very hard not to cry.
Something lifts in my heart, and I quickly squash the feeling of hope with a strong dose of self-loathing. “Was?” I say.
“He left me.” Stella looks away and wipes her eyes. “We were engaged to be married, but he left before we could.”
“Did you and him ever . . .” I can’t bring myself to finish the sentence, but I already know the answer. The Kenelky would not have sparked, otherwise.
Stella laughs, though it sounds halfway like a choking sob. “No, we didn’t,” she says, shaking her head. She looks away. “It doesn’t matter what I feel, anymore,” she continues. “He’s gone, and I doubt he’ll ever come back. He could be dead, for all I know.”
It seems callous to say I hope he’s dead, even from me, so I keep my mouth shut. But I hurt for Stella. It physically hurts to see her in such pain. I inhale sharply, fingers curling into fists. “I am sorry you’re sad, Stella, my heart.”
She turns a watery gaze on me, and I blink at the amusement I see in their gray-blue depths. “Are you really?” she asks.
“I would prefer you choose me over him,” I admit, “but I’m unhappy to see you sad.” I hesitate only a moment before continuing. “I know I haven’t won your affection, yet, but know this. I will never leave you, Stella. Ever. Not unless you choose another. I promise.”
She doesn’t reply, her gaze luminous in the waxing moon’s light coming through her window. I realize with a start that night has fallen. I am always aware of time passing, but with Stella around, I seem to forget things. I swallow hard, refusing to look away from her. “Do you still love him? This Wilder?” I ask.
Stella tears her gaze from me. “I don’t know,” she whispers, and my heart plummets.
Wilder is the reason the Kenelky hasn’t worked fully. Stella still loves this man, at least enough for her emotional attachment to meddle with the magic.
I didn’t know the process could glitch like that, and anger simmers in my veins. This is beyond frustrating and confusing. If I could just talk to my father about it, I’m sure he could figure it out. But no. He can’t know that I’ve bonded with a human. It’s supposed to be impossible.
“Stella,” I say, and my voice cracks on her name. I close my eyes for a moment, doing my best to will my heart to calmness. “Do you . . . do you think you could come to love me?”
Stella is quiet for so long that I begin to worry that maybe I shouldn’t have asked.
“Yes.” The word is so quiet. Even my elven ears almost miss it. “Yes,” she says again, louder. “I think that perhaps I could. With time.” Color rises to her face. “Is the, erm, whole dating thing still on? I know you were mad at me.”
I cock my head to the side, confusion flickering through me. “Dating?” Dates are a type of fruit, at least I thought they were.
“Courtship.”
“Ah.” I nod eagerly. “Yes, of course.” It takes me another five seconds to fully process what she said. “You want to stay?”
“I have nowhere else to go. Not with my brother here.” She smiles tentatively at me.
I nod, and a relieved smile breaks across my face, despite my efforts to hold it back. The connection hums through me. I haven’t known rest for more than two weeks. I need this girl like I need air.
She sighs heavily. “I gotta let go of the past sometime, right?”
It’s difficult, as I want to crumple the ring to powder in my fist, but I hold it out to her. “Here. This belongs to you. You may let go of it when you’re emotionally ready to accept me.”
“When?” Stella says, but she smiles when she says it and pockets the ring. “Thanks, Eldaren. You’re not
as cold as I thought.”
“I hope that is a good thing.”
Stella laughs, and the sound sends a thrill of pleasure running through me. I don’t know what I said or did that was funny to her, but I hope I can figure it out, soon. I want to make her laugh every day.
The crystal powered comm on my hip buzzes. “Meeting started ten minutes ago.” It’s Sol’s voice on the other side. Again. “Coming, my prince? Or are you . . . busy?” To humans, he probably sounds expressionless, but I can hear the laughter in his voice. Sol. The one elf who knows Stella and I bonded.
I should probably strangle him before word gets out.
“I will be there in two minutes,” I say and silence the comm. I turn to Stella. “Until later, my heart.”
“Okay.” Stella smiles awkwardly. “Guess I’ll be seeing you.”
I leave without further goodbye, thinking about our exchange as I stride down the halls. Something has changed between us. I’m not sure what, but I am optimistic.
30
Stella
The next few days slide by. Quinn settles into a routine of training and studying. I never expected him to be so at ease, but with the elves assistance in helping him channel magic, he's almost a different person. His once-crippling anxiety is gone. He's still socially awkward, so it should come as no surprise he gets along well with the space elves. Sol has taken him under his wing during training, and did the same for me, the two times I went to the training rooms. Sol seems particularly interested in humans, though I don't know why.
Three weeks after my initial capture, I return to my rooms after a brutal training session to see a new set of books on my nightstand. On closer inspection, I see it's the same green hardback book collection I'd seen in the market bookshop.
It’s here on my nightstand. I reach out with a trembling hand, my fingers trailing across the worn spines. “How?” I whisper.
A note is inside the cover of the first book.
My dearest Stella,
I didn’t miss the longing in your gaze when you saw these books in the shop. Please accept them as a gift. I hope they bring you much knowledge and joy.
Yours always,
Eldaren
I bite my lip. Did the prince buy them for me because he cares for me? Or to bind me closer? I don’t know. I’m afraid of getting burned again.
And am I ready to let Wilder go?
Eldaren is still a mystery to me, but I want to understand him. That is progress, maybe. And I’m incredibly thankful for the books. I’ll spend the night reading, and I smile at the thought.
With twilight coming on fast, though, I need to go to check on Quinn first. I still have to coax him to bed, just like I always have. A couple of days ago, Sol went back to our old home to retrieve the television and video game system. Quinn is allowed to play after dinner for one hour.
It’s no surprise that Quinn is still awake. His gaze is fixed on the flickering screen before him, his fingers furiously flying over the video game controller.
Walking over, I turn off the television. “It’s time for bed, Quinn.”
My brother scowls at me. “I’m not tired.”
I smile and sit on the edge of the bed with him. Flinging an arm around his shoulder, I give him a half-hug. “What do you think of this place, Quinn? Are you tired of it, yet?”
Quinn shrugs his thin shoulders and shakes his head, dark bangs sweeping in front of his eyes. He pushes them back. “I like it here.” He gives a massive yawn that makes me laugh. I nudge him in the ribs. “Hey, I thought you said you weren’t tired.”
Quinn laughs and yawns again. “I guess I am.”
I gently pry the controller from his hand. “You can play again tomorrow,” I promise. “Go to sleep.”
It doesn’t take much convincing to get him to slip under his bedcovers. I check under his bed and in the closet before I turn down the light and leave. I still check for monsters.
I can hear Quinn snoring softly as I tiptoe out of his room and into mine, a few doors down. It was kind of Eldaren to let my brother stay so close.
I walk over to my window and open it wide. It’s a full moon tonight. I perch on the window ledge, my legs hanging down as I gaze up at the pale, silver orb. I feel almost happy. It’s strange not to have any worries. I am safe. Quinn is safe. We’re well fed, and Quinn has access to his magical training, as strange as it still sounds. If I want anything, anything at all, I have servants who jump to see those needs met.
Thanks to the elven prince.
Eldaren.
I sigh and lean my head against the frame. The man muddles my mind. I don’t know if I should hate him or love him. Maybe both. Or perhaps neither.
A slight breeze stirs about me, and I shiver, hugging myself. I should go inside, but I don’t, reveling in the feeling of freedom. I can make out the faint outline of the iron fence, circling the perimeter of the elven grounds.
I could try to escape again. This might be a good time for it. Quinn would still be safe. Eldaren had made it very clear he would be taken care of.
Except I don't want to. And it has nothing to do with my brother, or the safety, or the food.
Eldaren.
I scowl up at the moon. I’m not supposed to feel anything for the prince. He'd taken me prisoner and had tried to claim me through this bizarre elven bonding. Except now I know it isn’t something he has any control over. This Kenelky is beyond either of our understanding, it seems.
“I'm supposed to hate you,” I mutter. “You and your perfect teeth and beautiful eyes. Your cold countenance and compassionate heart.”
I inhale sharply, forced to think about what I'd just said.
A compassionate heart. He was compassionate, and kind, in his own reserved sort of way.
Eldaren.
I groan with frustration and, tucking my legs in, go back into my room. I leave the window open because I like the feel of cold air on my face while my body is snuggled under a blanket, especially while reading, which is what I plan to do.
I undress until I'm just in my underwear, leaving my clothes in a pile on the floor. I know it's lazy of me, but that's what servants are for, right? Aleere can pick it all up.
Walking over to the wardrobe, the hair rises on my neck.
I am being watched.
Spinning around, my hands are held up defensively.
No one. I grab a nightgown and slip it over my head. I step to the window and peer out, feeling foolish when I don't see anyone. I must have imagined it.
The breeze is soft and cool. Breathing deeply, I take in the scent of trees and grass. The elves have been busy, and the fortress's grounds are becoming beautiful. If they have any say in it, Liberty will become a thriving paradise of green, growing things.
I walk to my bedside, and feeling suddenly impulsive, run and jump, landing spread-eagle on the mattress, face-down. I grin stupidly at the softness of it. Pushing myself up on hands and knees, I reach for one of the green, antique volumes.
“You always were the bookworm.”
I freeze at the smooth, masculine voice. My pulse races and my limbs go weak. I can't turn over to look. I don't dare. I haven't heard that voice in such a long, long time.
The voice pauses a moment before speaking, his words coming in a sudden rush. “I'm sorry I ran away, Stella. I didn't mean to hurt you. But I couldn't control myself. I couldn't. Will you forgive me? Please?”
I shudder. My body aches with grief and longing. I nod mutely. I can never stay angry with him.
“Stella.”
I twist in the sheets to get a better look at him, the man standing by the open window.
He’s a slightly older version of the same boy I knew, breathtaking, unearthly beautiful. The mop of white-blond curls hanging over his ears, the angular face, the tentative half-smile, it’s still him.
I tumble out of bed and lunge for him with a sob, my arms wrapping around his waist as I bury my face in his shoulder and cry.
His ar
ms curve around me in a tight embrace, and I feel his nose as he nuzzles the top of my head, inhaling deeply.
“You left me alone!” I wail. “I was alone, and starving, and cold, and lonely. You left me! Why?”
“I'm sorry,” he replies, his voice husky.
A growl wells up in my throat, despite the tears soaking my face. I glare up at the man. “Sorry doesn't take away the pain. Sorry doesn't fill my stomach. Sorry doesn't help Quinn.”
The boy I used to love—still love—gazes down at me, his eyes filled with regret. “I know, Stella. I know.”
I lay my head against his shoulder again, and let the tears fall.
I don’t know what to think. I don’t know what to feel. The boy who left me months ago is now a man, with broad shoulders and muscle, but he sounds so much like the boy I remember.
My boy. The love of my life. My soulmate. My forever.
Wilder.
31
Wilder
The scent of her blood is almost enough to unhinge me. The pull is every bit as strong as the star-blood. Stronger. I need to taste her, to drink.
But now I'm awake, unlike the feel of star-blood, which had put my mind in a hazy fog. Now I can think, reason. I can fight against the desire.
Do I want to fight it? And can I, truly?
I don't want to fight. I want to give in. I want to hold this girl in my arms and drink until there is nothing left. I crave her, almost as much as the first woman I'd killed.
I swallow and nudge her with my shoulder, and she looks up at me with a tear-soaked gaze. I must fight the impulse. This is Stella. The girl I love so much. The one I'd once given up to chase the star-blood. Never again.
“I'm sorry,” I say again, even though I know it won't help anything. “I should have stayed. I didn't. I ran.” I smile tentatively at her. She had loved my smile, once. “But I'm here, now. I want us to be together. To continue what we started. We have a whole life ahead of us.”