The odor of seared flesh is heavy in my nostrils, and I look at Roshan, who had stopped me with no care for his own safety. Both of his arms are blistered now, as well as the skin of his chin that hadpressed against mine. The fabric of his shirt hangs in tatters and his chest is bright red. He shakes his head. “No. He managed to cast healing runes in time to deflect the worst of it.”
“I could have killed him,” I whisper. “Killedyou.”
“You didn’t, though. And next time we’ll—”
I shake my head furiously, fighting another bout of tears. “No.There won’t be a next time. I won’t do it. Don’t you see, Ican’t. I nearly murdered you both!”
He reaches for me, but his hand just hovers in midair as I recoil from any touch and then falls to his side.
Aran clears his throat, his voice hoarse but steady. “I’m safe, Suraya. You can’t just give up. You have to let it flow through you,” he insists. “Stifling it isn’t going to do any good.”
“At least I won’t burn anyone to bits,” I sob.
“Think of yourself as its instrument,” Roshan says.
I want to scream at him. I wasn’t its instrument—I’m itsunderling.Servant of the star,the crone had called me. Nothing could be more accurate. And given my ineptitude, it will take outside of forever before I master any part of it.
In what has to be the worst timing ever, my vision starts to tunnel.
No, no, no.
A strange clarity fills me, along with an accompanying rush of raw power. And then the old crone appears as if my uncharitable thoughts had summoned her. The singed smell vanishes, and everything takes on a hazy gleam when she shimmers into place, exactly where Roshan was standing across from me.
Unlike the last time she’d come, this time, somewhere deep in my subconscious, I’m aware that she’s not really here.
“Setareh sar lokkar.”
“Who are you, really?” I study her wizened face, her mane of silver hair and mesmerizing eyes bursting with cosmic light. “A friend?”
I’m not expecting the smile. “Yes.”
“A Starkeeper?”
“No.”
I remember Roshan’s story. “Are you a guardian, one of the Royal Stars?”
“Yes.” Her smile widens with approval.
This is no old crone—she is a relic from a past time... a deity and hand of theold gods. My breath falters then, as I look closer, past the age lines on her face, only to see that they aren’t lines at all. They are shooting stars and whirling constellations. Looking at her is like staring at a map of the starlit skies.
My eyes aches from keeping them locked on her—I don’t want her to disappear, not now when answers might be close. “What’s your name?”
“Vena.”
Of course.A derivative of Venant, also known as Regulus, guardian of the northern skies, the heart of the lion, and the guiding light of leaders and rulers, of kings and queens. The House of Regulus had become nothing like its ancient, bright namesake.
“Why did you say I was the bitter, beautiful end?” I ask.
She waves a hand, leaving a glowing trail of iridescence in its wake. “You will be the simurgh rising from the stardust of this world. You are its destruction and its reawakening. Its doom and its undying hope. You are the epicenter of its beating heart.”
I shake my head, my irritation blooming full force. “Can’t you ever speak normally? What does that mean? You want me to destroy Endara?”
“If that is your path, then the star must burn.”
My irritation dries up. “Why is thatmychoice?”
“The stars map your fate.”
