Page 45 of Salt in the Seas
“Not just the stone,” Holm muttered.
Iris shot him a look. “Not here.”
Gaeren tensed. “What are you talking about?”
Iris’ glare shifted to a sweet smile for Gaeren. “You’ll have to ask Sylmar, dear.”
“But he won’t tell you until he’s dragged you at least a mile from the fortress.” Holm used his finger to clean out the last bits of squash from his bowl.
Iris pulled the bowl from his grasp, her lips curled in disgust. “He’s being cautious.”
Holm pulled the bowl back, and despite Iris’ glare, he resumed scraping the bowl clean. “It’s a compliment to your cooking.”
Iris huffed and turned back to Gaeren. “If you’re looking for Orra, she often ends her day on the balcony of the northern keep.”
Gaeren shuddered. “That thing’s still standing?”
“I wonder if she’s strengthening it,” Iris admitted. “It almost seems more stable than before.”
“No,” Holm said. “I don’t think she’s willing to use her magic on something so trivial.”
“You’re one to talk,” Iris said, pulling the bowl away from him once more.
The two continued their banter, reminding Gaeren of Larkos and Calia in a way that made him homesick. Would he never be content where he was?
He excused himself, making his way through the maze of halls until he reached the battlements surrounding the northern keep. The sight brought back painful memories, vivid images playing through Gaeren’s mind whether he wanted them to or not. Sometimes it was a gift to be a noetic progeny, to hold on to those memories so clearly, but other times it was a curse. His mentors had taught him to tamp down the memories he didn’t want, but the stronger the emotions surrounding the memory, the harder it was to ignore.
He closed his eyes, remembering the sight of Aeliana, branded by Mayvus, walking toward the evil woman against her will. The need to save her, even if it required performing his own branding ceremony. He opened his eyes and ran his hand over the scar on his palm.
At one time he would have scorned someone’s use of blood magic. He probably would have fought to have them detained. But now heunderstood that blood magic in and of itself wasn’t wrong. It had far more to do with the intention behind it.
He would do it all over again if it meant he could save Aeliana.
“You’ve returned.”
Gaeren swiveled at the sound of Orra’s voice. Her skin seemed paler than he remembered, more cream than brown. The waning moon still managed to reveal her frailty, leaving him shocked, not because she looked worse than before, but because she didn’t look much better. He’d thought she would have been back to her full strength, especially knowing what she was—who she was—but she seemed nearly as exhausted as when he’d last seen her.
“You look tired,” he said. “You’re using too much energy.”
Her eyebrows rose. “Telling a woman she looks tired is the same as telling her she looks awful. It’s never a wise move.”
Gaeren barked out an awkward laugh. “I just mean you need to rest.”
“I’ve spent far too long resting. There are things that need to be done, and now is the time to do them. I’ll have time to rest later.”
He shook his head, irritated that he’d already forgotten how cryptic her words could be. Then he reached in his pocket and pulled out the golden arrow.
She shivered as he held it out, then reached out to take it, her fingers trembling as they hovered over the starbridge. Her gaze traveled to the dancing Stars.
“Maybe I should let you keep it for me,” she whispered.
“Why?”
“It seems that every time I find one of these, a different one slips through my fingers.”
Gaeren considered her words, the way they’d come full circle in their hunt. At one time he’d wanted the starbridges for himself, first to find Aeliana, then as a means of leverage—whether to protect Enla or Aeliana. But Orra’s need for them seemed far greater, her purpose far more important. But as always, she held her reasons close, closer than he’d been allowed.
“What exactly do you hope to gain from gathering them?”
