Page 78 of A Sea of Fate and Starfire

The quiet winegrower’s son’s cheeks dusted pink under her gaze. “It’s possible. He only came to Calder City in hopes of regaining his royal commander.”

Everyone’s gaze swung to Kye. Aren scoffed. “Might not need a commander if Rivea takes their feud east.”

Leal sighed. “Is it because you love plums?”

“Suns drench the skies, Leal. Drop the plums.”

“Do you or do you not,” Leal said slowly, “have a plum on you now?”

Aegir rode close to me, watching the exchange with strained interest—if interest was a pet he could keep on a tight leash. I privately wondered whether he’d spent so much time around humans before, if he was well-versed in human warfare. His Oculos, Sindri, had fought for Rivea for twenty years, so I could only assume he’d gained some knowledge.

He leaned toward me, keeping his voice low. “Are you planning to continue improving your star-wielding while surrounded by humans?”

I shrugged carelessly, catching the stringent flex of his mouth. My hand slipped into my pocket, turning the stones in my hand as if they were lucky coins. In truth, I hadn’t stopped practicing. I searched for electric charges within the air, releasing tiny sparks where I knew they’d pass unseen and unheard like static hiding under a coarse rug. The only ones who had noticed were Kye and possibly Kolibri, who had suffered just enough shocks from touching me to raise suspicion.

Aegir clicked his tongue, neglecting to comment on my poor commitment to his lessons. “I do not think we should stop in Ochire.”

“No?” I glanced at him over my shoulder. “My husband’s welfare as a commander means so much to you?”

Aegir grunted quietly. He made an expression that I assumed he only made while avoiding expressions altogether. His eyes shuttered down, and he drummed his fingers absently on his thigh before carefully saying, “You’re careless when he is near. Sloppy. I’m worried you would follow him into a fire to make sure he didn’t burn, and you’d use yourself to shield him. A Naiad Queen does not follow a human.”

I huffed a laugh, a short, ironic breath of air. Half chuckle and half disbelief. Then stared ahead, gauging my own reaction through his eyes. Satisfaction fell to the bottom of my stomach like flakes of snow, collecting in a blur of white and cold and stillness in every direction. I’d been right. Even though they’d never outright said so, the Naiads peered down their noses at a cordae between Kye and me.

“I did follow him into the fire, Aegir.”

He shook his head. “Theia’s design. Not your own.”

My mouth pursed. “Are you doubting Theia?”

Aegir’s fingers combed down his neat beard. “You act as if I hate humans. I don’t. I just don’t have a taste for people that aren’t my own. Your colony is the same.”

I didn’t mention that I held my own doubts about the Goddess of the Moon. That I was almost certain she’d laid a track for me to follow, one I could neither see the end of nor step away from. That she’d shown me my ancestral line, thousands of faces dating back thousands of lives, and had landed on her own.

You are the beginning.

My gaze shifted across the riders of our group, Naiad and human, chatting away. Kye was watching us. He held my eyes for a long moment before glancing away.

Aegir considered him as well, attention slanted sideways as if Kye was a shadow on the wall that he didn’t enjoy looking at yet didn’t trust prying his eyes away from.

I raised my chin. “What should I walk through fire for, if not for my cordae?”

The Venusian shook his head, and I couldn’t decide if he found the question too difficult to answer or simply foolish. “He’s not your cordae.” A long, tired sigh escaped his lips. “Keep practicing your star-wielding.”

He slowed his horse, dropping away and leaving me to ruminate on his words. Ahead, Leal’s voice carried across the trees. “Think Aren might actually hate plums?”

General Senan was still in Ochire.

I’d traveled through the logging town briefly before, on the way to the mountains. It wasn’t nearly as grand as Calder City, equipped with the simple export of felled timber. Dust seemed to settle over the city like soft, fawn-colored dandruff, the scent of fresh cedar and sap clinging to my hair and clothes.

Kye stretched and fidgeted as we slunk through the streets, avoiding the troops stationed along the market outskirts. He cast long glances in the direction of the flags and horses, worry etched in the corner of his eyes like a sailor spying a storm on the horizon. I’d thought he’d settle as we ventured deeper into the wooded hills where Diara’s cousin’s manor rose slowly from behind the snow-dusted pines. But he didn’t.

“The general won’t see you from here, Kye,” I said when it became clear he had nothing more to hide from.

“What?” Kye peered down at me like he’d briefly forgotten his name. “It’s not that.”

The way he said it—it’s not that—as if he privately wanted Senan to spot him, wanted to ride to Rivea, ushered a sudden chill down my spine.

I pressed my teeth together, my best attempt at controlling my own face. “What is it?”