“Five minutes, and then we roll out,” Zane snarled. “Anyone not here gets left behind.” They saluted, then started readying the wagon. Both the horses and men were still spooked by the explosion—the animals’ eyes were wide, rolling in their heads, and the humans jumped at any little sound. A soldier with flashy red hair handed him the reins to his own horse—a massive, sleek black stallion—and he swung up into the saddle, patting the boy’s neck to help calm him. “Easy, Ryunn,” Zane muttered lovingly. This horse had been with him for the last three years. He had broken the wild animal on his own, and now he was the only creature (man or animal) the prince truly trusted.Phaedros take me, that’s pathetic.
Zane wanted to get the fuck out of there as swiftly as fucking possible, although he knew his father would have his head for failing this project. He desperately needed to come up with a story, a lie, anything that would deter Uther from doling out a punishment. Luckily he would have a week, maybe two if he took his time sleeping in late and courting the townswomen. He wouldn’t mind overstaying his welcome in some of the small towns between here and Athusia. Zane felt he’d earned and deserved a bit of drinking, gambling, and fucking before he had to face his father. He frowned down upon the bedraggled men who had made it back to the wagon. Around half were missing. Good enough. The others were either dead or could find their way back on their own.
“Move out,” he said, kicking his horse into a canter.
Chapter 4
Iyana
As the star streaked across the sky, the fighting stopped. Everyone—Athusans and Istorians alike—had a momentary unspoken armistice to follow the path of the star that was falling to the earth.
Remember the face of that man.
The thought threaded through Iyana’s mind in a whisper of smoke. She whipped her head around, but nobody was near her. In fact, all the chaos was avoiding her completely. The man painted with the blood of her people caught her attention. There was no reason for him to stand out from the rest of the Athusans, but he did. He stood directly in the carnage, bodies sprawled around him, with one of his swords hanging limply at his side. The two strangers made direct eye contact for a split second before the star crashed into the earth in a blast of white light.
The impact threw everyone but Iyana off their feet. The soldier flew backwards into the wall of a hut and appeared to be unconscious. Iyana winced; that would be a concussion. Another man, who must have been Crown Prince Zane—recognizable only from his officer’s uniform, and his fabled dark and wavy hair which apparently made all the ladies swoon—fell into the nearest hut also hitting his head, but remained awake, searching around in confusion. The bodies of her people, her family, rolled away from the blast and the Athusans. She stood in shock and awe while the crash affected all others but her.
Run
She ran.
Every fiber of her being was screaming for her to stay in the village. To pick up the survivors—is Grandmother alive?—and help them escape out into the desert. They could live out there for a few days. There was a place no Athusan soldier would find them, outfitted in case of a circumstance exactly like this one, but the whispering in her head was incessant. Iyana prayed they’d find their way, and someone had recently restocked the provisions.
Run. Come to us. Run.
Iyana ran far longer and farther than she had ever run before, her bare feet pounding against the desert sand. Lungs unused to exercise burned with the exertion, but still she persisted, losing track of time. No idea where the stars were leading her or how far she had to go. She just ran.
After what seemed like hours but might have also been mere minutes, she slowed. All her muscles screamed at her. Muscles she didn’t even know she had. Iyana desperately wanted to lie down and sleep forever. Not of her own volition, she stumbled forward a few steps more, only because that whispering voice was persistent.
Run. Run. Run. Run.
Then her mind was blessedly silent.
Iyana collapsed, completely spent. Her body could go no further. The voice disappeared, leaving her brain mercifully quiet. Too tired to form any coherent thoughts, she didn’t question why the commanding whispers had stopped so suddenly. As the sun rose, she closed her eyes against the pinkening sky and slept like the dead.
When Iyana awoke, she was confused and thirsty, her eyes crusted together with sand. Reaching for the supply pack she always brought with her during excursions into the desert to pour some water over her tired face, she realized it wasn’t there. Iyana stood quickly—now fully awake. The events of the night before thudded back into place as she took in her surroundings. She was in the middle of the desert—no trees, no water, no familiar landmarks. The sun was onthe opposite side of the earth, telling her she had slept all day and well into the afternoon. It would be dusk in a few hours; at least then it would be cooler. There was a reason most people didn’t go out in the middle of the day. Although summer was exiting to make way for autumn, the sun beat down on everything, creating an unbearable heat. Waves emanated up from the sand, distorting the horizon.
She blocked out the sun with her hand and peered off into the distance, seeing nothing but never-ending sand and dunes. Turning in a slow circle, trying to findanythingthat might appear familiar or lead to water, Iyana could not immediately pinpoint her location. She wouldn’t last long out here without water. There were no signs of an oasis anywhere near. Panic bubbled up in her chest, threatening to overtake her senses.
She forced herself to take a deep breath and sit back down, crossing her legs and closing her eyes. Her best ideas always came to her when she meditated quietly. She thought about the voice urging her ever forward.Any advice or direction would be fantastic right now, she projected outward to the universe. Her ears strained from how intensely she listened for a response. Nothing. Did she have to ask out loud?
“Seriously. Anything would be helpful. Unless you’ve guided me into the godsdamn desert to die?” She cocked her head to the side and scrunched her eyes tighter, hoping it would help her hear better. Still no response, only a faint ringing between her ears. She sighed, exasperated.
Absentmindedly, Iyana brushed out her hair with her fingers—it was knotted beyond belief. How was it her hair tied itself together so easily? The familiar motions and ritual were calming. She’d sell her soul for a brush, though. Her mind wandered to her grandmother, but no—the thought that Imo’s gorgeously wrinkled face may never smile at her again was too much to consider. The previous night’s events replayed through her head:
She was asleep in her small hut on the edge of the village when the wailing began. Iyana woke with a jolt, briefly confused what was real and what was a dream. Maybe there was some sort of medical emergency, but, no, there were too many people screaming. Then the shouts of the Athusans and the crackle of fire could be heard amidst the noise of her people, and she realized what was happening. Why was this particular village being attacked? Imothia was small, independent, and did not rely on the government for any money or trade goods. They weren’t even expected to paytaxes; honestly, they assumed the kingdom had forgotten about them. So why here? Why were the Athusans massacring Imothians when there were larger towns that would provide more leverage or goods to the Empire?
Running outside, she found the village in flames. She ducked into her grandmother’s hut to get her to safety, but she was not inside. “Grandmother! Mata Imo!” she shouted at the top of her lungs. But in all the chaos, her grandmother either did not hear or was choosing not to listen. Knowing Mata Imo, she was probably trying to evacuate the village. Iyana did the same, shoving anyone near her toward the desert. “Go! To the oasis! Everyone! Go!” Mothers with wailing children clutching onto their skirts ran past. Squinting towards the blazing huts, she saw a man, unable to tell who it was, try to assault a soldier with a broom. The Athusan immediately cut him down. His wife ran to his side, and the soldier turned away. Iyana registered the oddity of him appearing to spare the tribeswoman seconds before another soldier killed her. There was no time to mourn; that would come later, if she survived this. As she searched for her grandmother, she saw more Athusans killing her people and spreading fire, which was consuming the village. She felt so desperate to save everybody, she did the only thing she could think of at that moment. The one thing her grandmother had told her over and over, never to do.
Iyana looked to the stars.
She shouted at them for assistance, feeling foolish, screaming to the point of pain. Iyana was no longer a young girl; she did not truly believe wishing on a star would bring any sort of good fortune. But there were no other options. The small village of Imothia was overrun and wholly unprepared for an invasion. They had become complacent in their remoteness. She yelled with all her might, even as her throat was shredding, with no idea if they heard—or would even listen. Then a small vibration reverberated through her entire body, and that was when the whispering began.
Iyana.
She stilled abruptly and listened intently, her eyes still glued to the sky.
We hear you. We will help.
