Children with Stars in their Veins (Chapter 4.1)

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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[Cassius]

Putting adhesive in the Guildmaster’s books certainly wasn’t Cassius’ most creative, or elaborate, trick. But after Isa had caught him trying to enchant Margaretta’s book, after he’d been sitting idle with no ideas besides putting bugs in food, he wanted to do something.

His hands were itchy. Isadora and Mishal were leaving. He should be focusing his energy on pulling something over Mishal, but every time he tried, it felt hollow. Nothing was grand enough as a going away prank, not after everything else he’d already done.

Stupid expedition and ruining his fun. What was so fascinating about some old, haunted ruins anyway? Ori would kill him if he said that, but he didn’t care.

Cassius kicked the foot of one of the display tables he was standing near. No expedition tonight, he was pulling clever schemes.

It didn’t feel clever, or exciting, at all. It was supposed to be fun.

He was pressing the adhesive to a book’s spine on the shelf—wait ‘til someone tried to pull it out and it wouldn’t come! —when there was a bustle from outside. A bustle? It was past midnight! What were people doing awake at such an hour? He was supposed to be uninterrupted!

If Margaretta caught him, she’d probably do something stupid like occupy the time he was supposed to be learning how to sew with Isadora for training with Mishal. Ick.

There was a cabinet that had an empty bottom shelf. He’d checked it earlier, looking for things to stick. For once, he was glad he hadn’t started growing the way Mishal had a few years ago. He’d be way too tall to fit in the cabinet if he was anything like Mishal.

The handle of the door clicked as he slid into the cupboard, knocking his head a few times against the shelf that divided the space. He grabbed the cabinet and pulled it shut as the door to the Guildmaster’s Study opened.

It was dusty in here. Gross. And a lot smaller than it looked on the outside. Double gross.

He strained to listen from his hiding place. What was Margaretta doing here so late? Wait. But there were… more than one pairs of footsteps. There were several in fact. What was she doing?

It was silent, save for the scuffing of chairs against the hard wood floor and someone clearing their throat. Margaretta’s desk chair moved. He could tell, it made a distinct noise. Plus, he was only a shelf away from where her desk was. A tickle rose in his throat. Nooooo. He couldn’t cough now!

“There’s been no word out of Glacier’s Keep,” someone finally spoke. “There’s been no word out of the Divine Tundra at all.”

That was one of the council members. Professor Jordan. Was he listening to a council meeting? He’d never gotten the chance to do that! This completely made up for not have a good prank on hand. He got a front-row seat into the secrets of the council. Sure, it was forbidden, but what was Margaretta going to do? Get a wine glass out of some bottom cabinet she never used?

“I presume you have a plan for the inevitably of a blood hunt?” That was the head librarian and scholar, Moira Corbeanu. He wasn’t always in best standing with her, after all the times he’d tried to distract Mishal, but if he was good, sometimes she gave him treats. “They’ll be desperate, especially after the search for their second child came up with nothing.”

“After Jax’s utter failure you mean.” He didn’t recognise that voice. One of the scholars. Couldn’t tell which one.

“Jax carried out exactly what was asked of him,” Margaretta said. Uh oh for that scholar, she sounded mad. “I’m aware of the concerns that arise from silence in the north, but if you’ll remember, King Manu’s health is unstable at the best of times. We’ve just left Catharsis. The season was harsh on their people, they hadn’t recovered from the worst colds of Moon’s Vigil. They’ll need time to recover. Last time they went looking for a missing child, they nearly entered a war with Summermount, and I doubt they’re eager to repeat such an event. The Tundra’s residents are a loyal people. I suspect the silence will last, lest that reputation be tarnished.”

Was this how council meetings usually went? It sounded solemn. He’d always been told they were boring affairs. Not that there was anything grand about this, but they were talking about… what, the Divine Tundra? What did the northern territory have to do with the Chronicler’s Guild? A blood hunt? What even was that?

“Some might feel betrayed.” Head physician and alchemy professor, Gracia. She was the only one who sounded reasonably calm. “Some might underestimate, or misunderstand, the reprehensions. Glacier’s Keep will be isolated if word gets out that the girl, Princess Kanta, doesn’t have trueblood. Everyone knows the legends of what happened to the kingdoms that lost their trueblood rulers.”

His throat tickled a lot now, and it was awful stuffy in the cabinet. Truebloods? He had never quite grasped the concept of destined rulers. Was that what they were? He wasn’t entirely clear, everyone seemed uncomfortable when he asked, and only gave him vague answers.

“You’re relying heavily on the idea that the King and Queen will be content to sit idly by,” the unfamiliar scholar said, tone rather nasty. “What about this expedition? It won’t go unnoticed. You are bringing, not just one, but two of the heirs into the open. The north will be looking for its lost princess, but let’s put that aside. Summermount is one of the most powerful kingdoms of the five, if the boy is taken notice of—”

“He won’t be,” Margaretta interrupted. “His coming of age isn’t for another year. The blood ritual for the prince of Summermount won’t be undertaken until then. They won’t know they’re missing a trueblooded heir. We need them. You all know that.”

Wasn’t there something about that? About the ruins, the fallen kingdoms, and bad things happening to the kingdoms that didn’t have trueblooded ruins? Rowan would know. He’d ask after he got out of this stupid cabinet.

He put his hands over his mouth, as if that would help stifle his cough. He nearly sneezed, but at least it didn’t make too much noise. Please don’t hear that, please don’t hear that.

“How do you know that it’ll work?” Moira asked. “This is all theoretical. And the paths to the fallen kingdoms have been worn out. What about the Wilderlands? Even the forest outside of the Citadel is beginning to change.”

“No one’s disappeared yet.” That was his history professor, Marita, who would probably be appalled to know how little Cassius was understanding this conversation. Or maybe she wouldn’t. Was trueblood that important?

He started tracing the wood grain of the cabinet door. “No, but the kids go out there all the time,” Moira replied. “Some of us have tried to warn them, but most of them don’t care enough to heed the warning. They’ve never seen the horror of the Wilderlands. Why should they be afraid of what the forest could do to them?”

“It will work,” Margaretta said, as if another conversation hadn’t just taken place. “Curses are like locks. Trueblood has magical properties beyond any understanding. There is a key to this lock, and from everything suggested in what has been recorded, I’m sure that we are in possession of it.” Her desk chair grinded against the dais it was on. “If this meeting was called simply to discuss superstitions and the possibility of threats from an already weakened kingdom, it was for nothing. I’m aware of what repercussions could unfold, and should they fall upon us, we will handle them.”

“Margaretta,” Gracia said. “Do Isadora and Mishal know of the perils of the ruins?”

Cassius froze. There wasn’t… actually danger in going to ruins…? There couldn’t be. They couldn’t take Isadora and Mishal away if they were going to be in danger. That was preposterous.

“They’re aware,” Margaretta said. “This meeting is adjourned. I’m sure all of us would like to retire for the evening.”

It could hardly be called evening anymore, but that wasn’t the point. The perils of the ruins ran through his head over and over again, almost masking the sound of everyone leaving the Guildmaster’s Study.

At some point, his heart had begun thumping hard against his chest and it rang in his ears. This wasn’t something he was supposed to have overheard. This wasn’t fun eavesdropping, like trying to pick up whispered scandals or someone who caught Ashael cutting off lilies that belonged to someone else to give to Isadora.

He didn’t understand all the talk of trueblood and the Divine Tundra, but it made him queasy. He did understand danger in association with Isadora.

Why now? They had all grown up in the Chronicler’s Guild. They were supposed to stick together, supposed to grow up and become boring historians or whatever, but they were supposed to do it together.

Cassius opened the cabinet door cautiously. The lights were all off and nobody was left in the room. There was an empty, copper-encased glass on Margaretta’s desk. He had adhesive left, but… it wasn’t fun anymore. His stomach was light, airy, and it was making him dizzy.

Stupid expedition. Stupid Guildmaster. Stupid ruins.

There was nobody in the halls, nobody awake, as he snuck back to his rooms. Even if the council members were still up, the quarters that he lived in, near the other five, were on the other side of the Citadel. It was dark and cold as he made his way up one of the winding staircases. He couldn’t remember the words for a warming spell. He was wearing a jacket over the pyjamas he’d snuck out in, but his feet were frigid.

For a moment, as he snuck into his quarters, with the door holding the plaque that read Ida, Percival, and Cassius, he thought that at least he’d done a fine job of creeping around without being discovered.

Then he heard a murmur. He recognised the spell for a floating light too late and froze when a soft ivory glow filled the kitchen and entry space.

His mother was in her nightgown, dark brown hair braided in thick knots over her shoulder. She was holding the light in his palm but blew it into the air without looking away from him.

“You need to stop getting into trouble,” she said, leaning forward in her seat and folding her arms over the kitchen table.

His cheeks flushed. “It’s not hurting anyone!” he protested, then shrunk back defensively and crossed his arms over his chest. He approached the kitchen table, scowling. “What are you going to do about it anyway?”

Mum stood up and crouched it front of him. She put her warm hands on the sides of his head, pressing his messy curls down, and kissed his forehead. Then she pinched his ear. He yelped. “Nothing this time, if you don’t use that attitude with me again.”

She let him go and he peered up at her, then ducked his head. “I’m sorry mum,” he said, soft and sincere. He wished he’d just been able to fall asleep, like a normal person, and hadn’t heard the council meeting at all. “I love you.”

Her hand brushed his cheek gently. “I love you too, Rascal. Go to bed, you’ll be exhausted tomorrow. We’re going to have a talk about you sneaking out, you know.”

He let her help him out of his coat even though he was definitely old enough to take off his own coat, thanks. And yeah, yeah, he would stop sneaking out, he’d been restless and couldn’t sleep and needed something to do.

Cassius pretended he didn’t see the worry in his mum’s eyes as he went to his room. Restlessness was hardly as bad as a dangerous expedition, why should she worry about him?

He’d tell Belle what he’d heard, tomorrow, and she’d reassure him. She’d tell him it wasn’t dangerous. It wouldn’t be so bad. Except that she’d be gone.

He stared at his ceiling for a while and tried to think of ways he could distract Mishal in the library. He had to get him once, just once, before he left.

word count:

2,068 (oops)