Children with Stars in their Veins (Chapter 24)

a/n: hey, thanks for checking out Starry Veins! This is the novel I wrote for Round V of LMS, and it's still a first draft! While I don't discourage any feedback, I prefer not to receive feedback on grammar! I'm not polishing this draft up yet, so I'm not as concerned about editing. I am, of course, open to all feedback, but I ask that you keep this in consideration! Thanks <3

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[Mishal]

Margaretta had left earlier, along with Gracia and Forestter, to discuss trading and repair what had been damaged both by wear and in the bandit attack. It was mid-afternoon when she returned, and Mishal sent a glance to Isadora, sat beside him.

They both got to their feet. Isadora was first, and she offered a hand to him. He took it with silent gratitude, and they approached Margaretta as she walked into the barn.

“The carriages are undergoing repairs with what the local blacksmith is capable of, but this is by no means a village of industry or technology. They’ll be serviceable,” Margaretta said, pausing in the centre of the barn and raising her voice to address everyone. “Juna is willing to part with a few of her horses in exchange for ours, but not as many as we came with, nor her best steeds. We don’t have enough to carry everyone to the ruins, and we’re down on a lot of things right now. I’d like to send a pair of good riders back to the Citadel for the retrieval of fresh supplies and mounts.”

His heart swelled in his chest and then seized for a moment. He was a good rider, he used to go out every morning just to see the horses. Jax had let him ride his favourite gelding, the only horse he said he trusted, Justiciar. Jax had been the one to train him in the first place, in the times he wasn’t travelling around the entire country looking for stories and legends.

And if Margaretta let him go back, he would get to see the others again, even if only for a short time.

“I would be happy to—”

Margaretta waved her hand without even looking at him. “Not you or Isadora.”

Isadora reached out for his hand, but he pulled it away and stepped forward, careful not to let the anger that rose in his chest grow. Everyone’s frustrated, everyone’s tired. Don’t get upset.

“You just said you needed good riders,” he said. “I’ve been riding since I was five. Jax would vouch for me, you know he would. I know how to ride, and I know how to look after them—”

Margaretta turned now, her pale eyes setting upon him not unlike a hawk. “I said, not you. Do I need to remind you under whose authority you have come here?”

It was unfair. It was unfair and he set his jaw but took a step back until he was next to Isadora again, and breathed quietly to himself.

“Thom and Gillian, would you be content to carry out this task of returning to the Citadel? We will make way to the ruins as soon as the carriages have been repaired to the best condition, but two on horseback will be much faster than we will. You shouldn’t fall too far behind.” Margaretta had already turned away from him, like nothing had happened.

Gillian and Thom, across from each other, exchanged a glance. Gillian shrugged, bared, muscled arms flexing with the motion.

“Seems fine to me,” Gillian said, voice deep but warm. She sent a glance towards him, and he nodded towards her. No need to be petty or jealous.

Thom simply nodded.

Margaretta surveyed her party around her, and her gaze lingered over him and Isadora for a moment. Then she nodded herself and turned away. “The two of you will leave in the morning. If anyone has anymore business here, you have until the carriages are finished.”

Without another word, she turned, and stalked out of the barn.

He crossed his arms, let out a sigh through his nose, and then pulled Isadora gently aside.

“Tell me that I’m not the only one who notices that ever since we left, she’s been singling us out of everything,” he said, low and under his breath.

Isadora shook her head. “I’ve noticed. She’s been obsessive, I’ve never seen this side of her before.” She frowned. “You remember when I asked about the ruins. She got defensive. I’ve never seen her get defensive, she’s too clever for that.”

“Or about my leg,” he said. “Call it what you will: stubbornness, pride, whatever. I know it had to be taken care of, I do, but Kizia was dying. Verral’s arm was hanging from sinew. I got hit by an arrow, and it didn’t even hit my artery. It was impractical.”

“That’s a more delicate matter I’d rather not use as an example, because you were quite sick and I would be partial, but I know.” She ran a hand through her loose hair, and then over the braid holding it back from her face.

He glanced over towards the door Margaretta had disappeared out of. “She’s hiding something. You know that, right?”

“Since she claimed to have something different that would get us the secrets of the ruins,” Isadora said. She dropped her hand. “I don’t think we should bring it up right now.”

“But she’s lying,” he said. “That’s not right. And it has something to do with us.”

Isadora shook her head again and reached out to touch his shoulder. “I know, trust me, I do. But she’s not going to talk, Stormy, you’ve seen that. The way she’s reacted, how defensive she’s being. Not right now.” She gave him a squeeze. “If she doesn’t tell us before the ruins, let’s talk about it again, okay?”

He knew she was right. He did. But he didn’t like the deflecting, or the sneaking around. Margaretta, to the best of his knowledge, was not one to lie to them. Especially not when it had something to do with them.

“All right,” he said, reluctantly.

She patted his arm, and then glanced away. “I’m not as good a rider as you are. I wouldn’t have been selected. You were really going to leave?”

He leaned back onto his heels and blinked. He hadn’t thought about that, but—

“I would have been back,” he said. “I wouldn’t leave you. I just…” He reached up to rub his temple. “I miss home. I miss everyone. This expedition—” He stopped, his mouth forming empty words. What was there to say? Things hadn’t gone as planned? It was more dangerous then he’d imagined?

He would never admit it, but the legends, the stories about great heroes and grand adventures… It wasn’t that he was shy to it, not the danger, but he’d always expected…

Something different.

“Yeah,” she said. She nodded, and finally glanced back at him. “I’m sorry. I miss everyone too, I miss home. I just hope they’re all right.” She smiled. “No doubt Rowan’s trying to contain them, while Ember and Cassius get into trouble. Goodness, what if they’re pulling Alanna into it?”

He smiled.

* * *

“I don’t suppose you were looking for company?”

Mishal glanced up. He had planned on sitting quietly outside for a while, watching the stars and the night sky stretched out above him like velvet, while Isadora helped Thom and Gillian collect themselves for the journey tomorrow.

Thaddeus hovered, waiting. Mishal pulled himself up, tightening his core, and put his hand on the grass beside him. Thaddeus smiled, and sat down beside him.

“How’s your leg?” Thaddeus asked. He was sitting close enough that Mishal could feel warmth radiating off him.

“Better,” he said. “I don’t think it’ll turn out looking so great though.”

“I think that’s okay,” Thaddeus said. “It’s not as if you’re not lacking in good looks. Besides, maybe it will make you look even stronger. A scar like that.”

His pulse stuttered. What do I say? What do I say? He was good at riding and balancing his weight in a swordfight. He wasn’t good at this, with people. His face grew hot.

“I can stop, if it makes you uncomfortable,” Thaddeus said, when he failed to reply for a moment too long. His voice was quiet, and even to Mishal’s ear, sounded disheartened.

He shook his head, brow twitching. “No, I…” He bit his tongue, like that would help him think. “It doesn’t.” He glanced at Thaddeus, who was much closer than he remembered. “You know that I can’t stay for long.”

Thaddeus nodded, his eyes almost black in the dim moonlight. “Yeah. But handsome travellers don’t exactly come through here often, and I’m kind of sick of seeing the same people I’ve known my whole life. You’re a lot nicer to look at.” His cheeks were dark now, his fair skin betraying him. “I might as well take my chance now, right?”

Mishal stared at Thaddeus, so close to him, and said, “Yeah.”

Ages ago, when Cassius had asked Isadora what kissing was like after her first with Ashael, he never thought much of it. Isadora had been flustered at the time, excited from the thrill of it all, and when she had described it, it sounded over the top.

When Thaddeus kissed him, it felt more like the way Rowan had described it, after they had tried it with Cassius once to see what it was like. Cassius had frowned and sulked and was all around disappointed that it was, in his words, “absolutely nothing and boring”. Rowan had shrugged and asked if it was worth all the hype around it.

It wasn’t that kissing Thaddeus was disappointing, it just didn’t feel like anything. There was no “magic” or “electricity”. There was no rush or thrill. It was warm, the angle was a little uncomfortable, but it was gentle.

Thaddeus pulled away first and gave him a smile. He offered one back, although he could see in the pinched lines around Thaddeus’ eyes that it wasn’t as exciting as he was hoping.

“I should probably be turning in before Juna realises I’m gone,” Thaddeus said.

He was pretty sure he should feel turned away, or sad that Thaddeus didn’t want to stay, but he didn’t. His compliments were nice, but…

“Goodnight,” he said softly. “Sleep well.”

Thaddeus’ smile grew warmer, and he nodded. “You too.”

And then he was left alone, in the cool night, with the stars above him, and wondering why there was nothing warm in his chest.

word count:

1,702