The red glow around Draven faded as he sheathed his broadsword, then turned.
Astraia’s breath hitched, her heart fluttering at the amber pools staring back at her. He walked back to her. He was breathing faster, but he was untouched, unharmed.
“Are you hurt?” he asked. His voice wavered as he brought a warm, rough hand to her face, caressing her cheek.
“I’m fine, thanks to you,” she breathed, unable to tear her eyes from his.
“I should have never left…” His voice trailed off, his brows furrowing as he looked at her. Then his gaze fell to Caelan on the ground beside her.
Astraia knelt beside him, feeling his pulse and counting his breaths. He had not worsened, but he needed additional healing. “My bonds are weak. I was able to heal him partially, but we need to get him back to Volpes to more healers.” She glanced up at Draven, pleading.
He only nodded, then whistled for his horse, who had not fled far. It took some effort, but with both of them, they were able to secure Caelan on top of Draven’s horse. A low groan escaped from Caelan as he was seated. After calling for a few minutes, Orion and Caelan’s mare trotted out of the woods.
“I will ride next to him to prevent him from falling,” Draven said as he mounted Caelan’s horse.
Astraia followed suit, mounting Orion, eager to be away from the dark woods and out of reach of the remaining wraiths.
After a few minutes of riding, Astraia felt her muscles relax, letting the fear of certain death fade away. She closed her eyes and thanked the Stars for sparing her. She had been destined for death, but instead, a bounty hunter saved her. The realization of what she witnessed washed over her, and she inhaled sharply.
“What?” Draven asked, eyebrows quirked as he looked over at her.
“You have a lot of explaining to do,Starborne.” Her eyes narrowed.
“Do I?” he replied, that aggravating smirk blooming on his lips.
“Yes! Why did you not tell me?”
“You never asked.” He shrugged, shifting his focus forward.
“You’re insufferable,” she quipped, before huffing and glancing up at the heavens void of stars. The Stars might be lost, but they were still alive. They were alive in her. And it would appear they lived inside a certain bounty hunter as well.
Chapter 30
The Starborne are fading, either from fear or from slaughter at the hands of hate. The King and Queen do little to prevent these unholy acts or protect the blessed ones. I fear, the Starborne will cease to exist should these inquisitions continue.
Scribe to the Priest of Power, Polentias
SHE AND DRAVEN HAD RIDDEN through the night nonstop, pushing Orion and the other horses as fast as they dared with Caelan clinging to life by a thread. At one point, she had fallen asleep on Orion’s back, slumped over his neck. When she had come to, her reins had been looped around Draven’s saddle, keeping her tied to him.
When they burst through the servants’ quarters door in the early morning hours, they had nearly given Graves a heart attack. Carrying Caelan to his room, Astraia had bellowed orders for the butler to fetch the best healer while she tried to coax her Sacrifice bond to life enough to provide Caelan some relief from pain. Her bond had sputtered, barely a glimmer of blue light, but it had afforded him a small reprieve.
His face was ghostly pale when the healer finally arrived, an older man cloaked in the blue robes of the university flanked by one of his apprentices. She had insisted on staying, but Draveneventually dragged her away from Caelan’s bedside to allow the healers to work. She vaguely recalled her knees giving way from exhaustion in the hallway and a warm body pressed to hers as he carried her to her room.
The next morning, Astraia groaned from stiff muscles as she made her way to the washroom. Her eyes widened at the wild creature staring back at her in the mirror—tangled hair, dark shadows under her eyes, dirt and soot smudged on her face. She could not recall another time when she had been so tired, except perhaps after nearly burning out when she lost her tether.
She took her time soaking in the tub, lathering with eucalyptus soap, turning the water gray with ash. Once she felt she had finally scrubbed wraith blood and smoke from her skin, she stepped from the tub and ran fingers through her wet hair. She rifled through the dresses she found in her wardrobe and rolled her eyes at the impracticality of most, likely Caelan’s doing.
Finally, she found one of the simpler dresses, although it likely could feed a small village with the cost of the fabric. It was dark blue gossamer material with a fitted bodice and simple flowing sleeves. Gold thread was stitched along the waist, cuffs, and hem in the shape of tiny stars and phases of the moon. It was resplendent, the gold thread catching the light from the sun and glistening on the marble floors.
Slipping into the dress, she felt somehow naked beneath yards of fabric. For years, she had worn clothes for utility, not for appearance. It was not to say that she disliked wearing lavish clothes; she just never felt the need, nor did she have occasion to impress.
She sighed and pulled her hair back loosely, small tendrils of her hair managing to escape and frame her face. She polished off her ensemble by strapping her Celestial dagger to her thigh beneath her gown then strode down the hallway.
She could hear muffled voices from inside Caelan’s room as she drew closer. Before she could knock, the door was yanked open, and the university healer stood in the doorway, eyeing her suspiciously.
“Lord Vireaux requires rest, my lady,” he stated firmly, blocking her way.
“Stand aside, Borea,” Caelan commanded from behind the doorway.
