This was all new for Iyana. She had never been the one afraid of being rejected. She’d use a boy for a night, and then try to never talk to him again. Of course, it was impossible to avoid them in such a small village, but most of them got the hint; Idris was the only one narcissistic enough to think he would win her over. She gave a small snort at the memory, and Altair raised an eyebrow at her. Pursing her lips, she decided not to tell him what she was thinking. She didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing he’d wormed his way inside her head.
So, instead of thinking about the enormous, muscled, handsome star next to her, she enjoyed her surroundings. All she’d experienced her whole life was a desert. The trees, the grass, the gently rolling hills were all new to her. She found it to be amazing; awe-inspiring. The world was slipping into its transition from summer to autumn, and the leaves began their change from green to brilliant yellows, oranges, and reds. She wished she had thought to bring a sketchbook. Drawing was one of her favorite pastimes at home and Iyana would sketch when she had a spare minute from her apprentice duties. The subject didn’t matter—landscape, still life, portraits. Occasionally, the children would come to her and she’d draw silly pictures of their faces with exaggerated features. Their ringing laughter made those her favorite. But sometimes she’d go out into the desert on her own, sketching imaginary people, places. Dreaming about a world outside of Imothia that she knew wasn’t possible for her. As a teenager, she had asked Imo if she could travel to Athusia to study at the world-renowned school for healers, but her grandmother had said no immediately and emphatically. Iyana never asked again.But look at me now,she thought, hoping Imo was proud of her. Excitement and trepidation waged a war within her at hernew situation.
For the first two days and two nights, the duo only communicated the barest necessities and slept on opposite sides of Altair’s magical fire, so Iyana was shocked when, on the third night after they had settled down to camp, Altair broke his self-imposed vow of silence.
“We need to practice more with your magic,” he said.
“I have been. I’m able to reach out to my magic now without trying.”No thanks to you, went unvoiced.
“I know,” he said with a crooked grin. “I felt you.” Iyana muttered a quietgross, which earned her a chuckle from Altair. “Now that you’ve learned the most basic, elementary step a two-year-old star is capable of—” Iyana stuck her tongue out at him, causing his eyes to burn a brighter gold “—you need to learn how to focus the magic.”
“Okay…” said Iyana. “How do I do that?”
“Merge with your magic.”
She delved deep inside her, finding the flickering flame already reaching for her. Once they were touching, the warm sensation traveled throughout Iyana’s body, staving off the chill of the night. “Now what?” she asked.
Altair nodded towards the fire. “Control the fire. Move it, or shape it into a ball.”
Iyana frowned. “How?”
“Focus on your magic and then direct it towards the flame. Imagine it becoming a ball in the palm of your hand, and then make it listen to you.”
Taking a deep breath, she focused on the feeling of magic coursing through her. In her mind, she saw a flame separate from the fire, fly through the air, and land in her palm. Once there, she willed it into a small, white-hot ball. Opening her eyes, she deflated when nothing had happened, and the connection to her magic was severed.
“It’s alright,” Altair soothed. “We’ll try again tomorrow.” They again slept on opposite sides of the camp.
The next day dawned crisp and clear. Iyana emerged from underneath her cloak (fixed and whole again thanks to Altair) stretching her arms high. Altair was already awake, doling out their portions for breakfast. Their provisions were almost fully depleted.
“We should make it to the town by nightfall,” Altair said. “Then we can sleep in an actual bed.”
Iyana perked up. “A bed?” she asked excitedly. Altair nodded warily. “Like, feather-stuffed?”
“I’d assume so,” he said. She shrieked, and he pulled back, alarmed and confused. “I don’t understand…”
“I’ve never slept in a proper bed before! I mean, sure, my cot was comfortable, but oh gods,” she moaned. “It’s going to be like sleeping on a cloud. The merchants sometimes had them, but our town doesn’t really barter with money, so—” She looked to Altair, concerned. “I don’t have any coin. How are we going to stay somewhere if we can’t pay?”
Altair chuckled. “Don’t worry, I can conjure coin.”Of course he can.
Iyana wanted to skip her way to town. Her exuberance seemed to make Altair lighter as well, and they chatted about inane things of no consequence while they walked. She liked this side of him. Open, smiling, chatty. It made her want to touch him, to brush that stray bit of hair away from his forehead, run her hand down his arm when he said something funny, hold his hand. He definitely caught her sneaking small glances at him. The smirk perpetually on his face until they stopped for lunch gave him away.
“I have an idea,” said Altair. Iyana nodded for him to continue, her mouth full of food. “I think you had a hard time last night with the fire because elemental magic is foreign to you. But youdohave experience with medicine, so I want you to make the simplest potion you can think of that needs activation to work.”
“I can do that,” said Iyana through her mouthful of food. She immediately started searching through her pack and putting together the necessary ingredients, falling easily into the motions. Altair moved in closer so he could watch her work.
“What are you making?” he asked.
She laughed. “It’s just a hangover cure. It combines spring water, ginger, bitter almonds, and willow bark with a splash of eel’s blood.” Altair’s face scrunched up in disgust. “I know, I know,” she giggled. “But I promise when it’s activated, it doesn’t taste bad at all.” Once she had completed the mixing of the potion, the part she was familiar with, she knelt on the dewy forest floor, the knees of her breeches soaking through. Holding the vial lightly between her hands, she took a deep breath. How many times over the years had she tried this exact thing with no results? What if she couldn’t perform magic at all beyond touching it? Would Altair abandon her to find someone else to eliminate Uther? Would hekillher to usher in the next Aztia if she turned out to be a dud? What—
Altair curled his warm hands around hers, effectively stopping her spiraling train of thought.
“Iyana, my star,” he murmured gently. “Whatever it is you’re thinking, stop. You can do this.”
“What if I can’t?” she whispered.
The star lifted her chin with a finger until he forced her to look into those terribly perfect golden eyes. “How about we make it interesting?”
She squinted at him, suspicious. “I’m listening.”
