Starlight jewel, p.1
Starlight Jewel, page 1
Copyright © 2022 by E.L. Lyons
Cover illustration by Samantha Slaughter
Cover design by Shane Phillips
Frontispiece illustration by Kieran Larwood
Map illustration by Shane Phillips
All rights reserved.
No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without written permission from the author, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, places, or people is coincidental.
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For my Grandmary and Grandaddy, the grandest of grands, who taught me to eat with a napkin in my lap and to not stuff three chicken tenders in my mouth all at once. They reveled in all my themed tea parties and taught me to appreciate and identify all manner of birds—even the peacocks that took up residence uninvited at their house. They provided me with endless avenues of adventure, academic encouragement, and good humor. I’d have never been able to imagine up such a refined and troublesome cast of characters if not for their influence in my life.
Contents
Epigraph
Prologue
1. Miss Someone
2. Brother to Brother
3. Starlight
4. Garden
5. Fiery Godmother
6. The General's Gamble
7. Grave Tales
8. A Night to Remember
9. Bittersweet
10. Yours Forgotten
11. Fair Ladies
12. Rules
13. Riddled Roots
14. Omissions
15. Solid Ground
16. Castle
17. King's Clarity
18. Vial Wills
19. Fallen Star
20. Daughters of Scorn
21. To Tarley
22. Lines
23. Crown of Black
24. Poisoned Well
25. In or Out
26. Work and Rest
27. Quisling Dungeon
28. The Lamb's Ears
29. Loose Tongue
30. The Lead
31. Unrest
32. A New Dawn
33. Namesake
34. The Storm
35. Root and Rot
36. Fever
37. Ferry
38. Swille
39. An Old Compliment
40. Home
41. Happily Ever
42. First Impressions
43. The Fog
44. Rings True
45. Nothing to Me
46. First and Last
47. Vows
48. Austringer
Epilogue
Acknowledgments
Epigraph
“Then I thought, ‘I shall die in my nest,
and I shall multiply my days as the phoenix.
My root is spread out to the waters,
and dew lies all night on my branch.
My glory is ever new with me,
and my bow is renewed in my hand.’”
~ Job 29:18-20
Prologue
A Millenium Before Story Present
Rhees walked in front of the procession, keenly aware of Dawn’s body on the litter behind him. The cave under the ruined city of Minalav was lined with an oil-filled trench, now lit with flame. Waves from the bay crashed overhead.
That someone would kill Dawn, the Auldmother, was unspeakable. And it was Rhees himself who had done it. The war had been long and bloody, but Dawn had remained neutral, retreating into the forest with her favored children as Roarik the Auldtree wrought destruction on the humans.
It had to be done. Rhees could still smell the forest burning, see Dawn's calm eyes when she met him and the other hybrids.
Roarik knelt in the center of the cave, a stone tablet in front of him, crown branches greater than that of the northern elk. His sorrow was oppressive in the room, weighing down on Rhees as if it were his own. He’d spent centuries with Dawn, cherished her, fathered hundreds of sprygans with her. And now she was gone. Felled in a war of his wayward passions.
The Ashite king stood to his right, his guards behind him, hands on sword hilts—for all the good it would do them if it came to a fight. Roarik would tear them limb from limb without a thought. He could make a treaty with the next humans to occupy the plains outside the Firstforest. This was not a treaty for any particular people, but for all sprygans and all humans.
Rhees stopped in front of the group and the litter was lowered. The four hybrids carrying it lifted Dawn’s petrified corpse and set her on the stone ground. When treating her body, they had positioned her so that she knelt, head bowed, hands raised.
Roarik reached out, brushing his fingertips down her cheek. “A night unending. My light, my sun.”
Finally the Auldtree stood, placed the stone tablet atop Dawn’s head and hands, and Rhees handed him a chisel. He scrawled Sprygan symbols onto the tablet as he spoke. “Seeds of barkskin and softskins, who to neither belong, but to both bound, you will be Keepers of our Treaty.”
Rhees bowed and translated the words for the humans. Then he spoke in Sprygan, his voice like an elm tree in the wind. “My Auldtree, we will be Keepers of your Treaty.”
Roarik met his eyes, pupilless amber spheres that pierced to his soul, drudging up the memory of Dawn’s death. If you had loved her still, I would have failed. You abandoned her. As he thought the words, Roarik’s own mind matched them. They both knew they were both to blame.
Roarik continued with the Treaty. The words already discussed in advance. Rhees translated, glad that no insults were thrown and no one talked of retribution. The loss of Dawn had been hard on the sprygans, the loss of High Priest Cael had been hard on the humans. Both had been losses for the hybrids.
Roarik and the king signed their names on the tablet and all left the cave save for Roarik.
Rhees lingered, waving his men on. “I’m sorry… I had to kill her. It was the only way.”
Roarik’s anger flashed but dissipated quickly under his despair. He drew the memory again from Rhees’ mind, Dawn’s final words, You must kill me to end it, leave my heart for him.
Roarik stood, towering over Rhees. “We both pay for her death. These… softskins of Cael, use them. Learn of this…” He gestured to the open scar on his woody chest, where the corner of his heart could be seen, woody flesh flecked with hard glowing stone, like that of the fallen stars. “Bring her back.”
Realization struck. High Priest Cael had spoken of restoring Roarik’s heart, the Star of Life. He’d wanted to learn how it worked by studying the remnants of it in his children. They might be able to bring Dawn back if they could uncover its secrets.
Rhees nodded solemnly. How many hybrids would die to get that knowledge? Their blood would be his penance. But they would finally have a home, a place in between the worlds of their human and sprygan parents. Minalav.
A thousand years passed. The Ashites and their dark studies fell to Norgan vengeance. Dawn’s heart remained still and cold. And in the forest, the Auldtree reigned.
1
Miss Someone
Quickstep and softstep are the gifts of the flesh. Keenscent and keenears are the gifts of the base senses. Heartseer and nightseer are the gifts of true sight. Effacer is the gift of forgotten faces, that which can render even the most beloved a stranger, removing the mark of them from history itself.
Axly woke to the vast Gray Sea’s salty aroma yielding to Grakkenport’s morning happenings. Street vendors heated oil and made dough, families emptied chamber pots and housemaids shook dust and dirt from doormats. A gentle melody formed from the squawking gulls, dreary chatter, and the babble of footfalls still heavy from the spell of sleep. The scents and sounds, a whisper to human ears, were like an orchestra at a banquet to hers.
The hammock she’d fashioned from a fishing net and hung between the alley’s barred windows left her sore, but it felt good to wake up with the sun’s light on her skin. The pastel sky above reminded her of the painted ceilings back home, in the Burrow under the city of Minalav. The fleas were less pleasant company.
A small finger poked her back and she turned over to look down at her human half-brother. He lay on a pile of straw beneath a blanket sewn from scraps of old clothes. The boy’s name was currently Hyde, and his relation to her was a secret she had guarded with her life—or rather with the lives of others. Such things seemed distant now as he smiled up at her from under a mop of brown curls.
Hyde sat up on his elbows, his feet wiggling under the blanket. “Good morning, Miss Karlin.”
“Indeed it is a splendid morning, Mr. Hyde.” She feigned an air of posh drama and the boy’s grin widened. “To wake in this most lovely of port cities to the sight of such a dashing young man. Pray tell me of your dreams, that I may have something good to ponder whilst I work today.”
“I dreamt I was on a boat with a badger and a mole. We sailed forever and the sea was beautiful, and there were no storms, only the sun and the wind.” He closed his eyes tightly, trying to go back to his fantastical adventure.
“A boat? How dreadful. You won’t get me
He rolled off the hay and went around the corner of the alley to the drains used as a latrine by the homeless workers of Grakkenport. She tuned out the sounds of the ocean, allowing her keenears to seek out anything unusual in the network of alleys, but all seemed well.
She tied the cream-colored overskirt over the fitted, blue-striped trousers, the angle cutting up at her knees. Then she pulled on her worn cloth shoes. A typical servant’s outfit in Norge.
Checking her reflection in a window, she saw her mother’s face, beautiful, and unfortunately, far too memorable. The face had been a gift when she had worked as a Starling—beauty could only be an asset in thieving and assassinating. But for a runaway, it was a hindrance. If she’d had the gift of effacer, she’d be able to hide effortlessly, but that was the one gift her sprygan father hadn’t passed on.
She pulled on her cloth belt then dipped her fingers in the pouch of ashes that hung from it, placing a few haphazard streaks on her forehead and cheeks. Strands of black hair—a quality not common in Norge—had escaped her hair scarf in the night. She tucked them back under, though there was nothing she could do to hide her pale northern skin.
Of all her features, her amber eyes, inherited from her sprygan father, were the most conspicuous. Having both gifts of sight manifested in the coloring, and many in Norge were aware of such things. But as long as the sun didn’t catch them, they were easily mistaken for light brown. She kept the sun at her back and stayed indoors when possible, but it still wasn’t prudent to stay in any one place too long.
After work today she’d take Hyde to the Rusty Tankard Inn, gather their belongings, and head a little further east.
Hyde came back around the corner, grabbed his pouch of glass shards, and slipped it onto his rope belt. “I bet my father came from across the ocean. That’s why I’ve got freckles—you said mother didn’t have any.”
“You still thinking about going on your dream boat?” Axly wished he wouldn’t talk of things that contradicted the current identities, but no one was in earshot, and she didn’t have it in her to disappoint him with a lecture this morning. “Freckles are common in a lot of northern countries, but more so in the northwest. You don’t have to cross the ocean to get to Midrax or upper Whillfell. He might have come over the mountains—whoever he was. Now let’s go.”
She took Hyde’s hand, leading him toward the street vendors and the enticing scent of Unger’s breakfast, one of the few pleasures in her new life. The vendor offered them a bright smile as they approached. He had graying hair with dark Remorrian skin. Deep curved wrinkles lined his prominent brow and cheeks, cut at sharp angles by scars.
Remorrians were outsiders in the Norgan kingdom, but Unger did well in his trade. Even the fugitives who fled Remorra were hardworking and principled people. There was a small community of them here in Grakkenport and while whispers of her pursuers had no doubt reached them from other sources, she’d never known a Remorrian to gossip—fugitives weren’t inclined to out their own.
Unger dipped the first batch of battered eggs in the roiling oil, then pulled them up. Hyde licked his lips and she grinned, wanting to tousle his hair but resisting.
Hyde didn’t like being touched. He’d hold her hand as they walked, but anything more and he’d set to causing a scene wherever they were and no matter what trouble it might bring. She knew he couldn’t help it, but still resented that she couldn’t embrace him or kiss his forehead.
Her resentment wasn’t aimed at him, rather at those who had made him so fearful—those who had made him.
“Stars bless your steps.” Unger handed them the tiny woven baskets with their crispy eggs.
“And yours, Unger,” Axly replied with a nod as she handed him two copper coins.
Axly and Hyde headed down the street, giving a wide berth to the sluggish workers trudging about. The fried batter was crunchy and savory, the boiled white smooth and delicate, and the golden yolk just a bit runny. Prior to coming here she’d never encountered an egg prepared in such a way, and yet it was more decadent than anything she’d been served at the Starlight Palace.
A commotion drew her—too late—from her musings. A leather ball flew between her and Hyde, followed by a gaggle of children plowing into them. They jostled Hyde away, knocking him to the ground. The contact set off his loud, attention-drawing cries. She stepped back to give him space. His fit would be over as quickly as it started.
Except today, a kindly stranger decided to help. Before she could stop him, the middle-aged man stooped down and took the boy by the shoulders. Hyde’s loud cries rose to shrieks.
She gently pushed the man away and smiled, squinting into the sun. “Sorry, but please don’t touch him. He’s okay, just gets upset.”
He straightened his silken jacket, looking shocked and confused. He met her gaze, then near sprinted away—no longer eager to be her white knight. Perhaps her brother’s fits were stranger than she’d thought. An issue to think on another time. The streets were going to get more crowded and she didn’t want to be late for work.
She picked Hyde up and threw him over her shoulder. He bit and clawed her as she walked, but she was durable and he didn’t do much real damage.
Once at the Pierry house, she set him down against the wall in the alley across from the servant’s door. His panic was replaced with agonized frustration when released, and she could see the battle he fought to get control of himself again. Her presence would only make it more difficult, so she went inside.
She opened the window and hummed to calm him as she set about her work. The other maid had cooked pastries the night before—a good thing since I’m terrible at it. Soon, Hyde was quiet, the kitchen was clean, the fire was going, and Widow Pierry was waiting at the breakfast table with her two daughters.
They were all dressed up to leave for the Vernal Ball in Minalav—the most extravagant event of the year, attracting more foreign royalty than any event in the kingdoms, even the great Star Coronations of the Church in Van Couth.
“Karlin!” Widow Pierry jumped as Axly stepped up behind her and set the pastries down on the table. “Rats, you’re a quiet one. Always sneaking up on me. We’ll be leaving for the ball by midday, I expect you to keep the house tidied while we’re gone. Did you get the cedar chips like I asked? And the fans?”
“Yes, ma’am. They’re packed.” Though I’ll be leaving the city shortly after you. We’ve lingered too long already.
Widow Pierry returned her attention to her daughters. “I’ve had word that the main ball this year has been a success. It bodes well for us—there’ll be many who expected to get in the Starlight Palace but get sent out to the surrounding dancehalls instead. Likely those wise enough not to bring jewels for the Starlight Company to steal—and wise husbands are what we’re looking for—not men enticed by an expensive and fleeting tryst.”
The mention of the Starlight Company made Axly’s skin tingle and her stomach twist. A year had passed since she’d left them to go into hiding with Hyde. She ached to see her hybrid brothers and sisters—even if the feeling wasn’t returned after her betrayal.
Dehl, the elder daughter, looked back to Axly with a smug grin. “I bet Karlin would look lovely in a lady’s dress if she ever took a bath. How do you manage to get so much filth on you every day?”
“It’s the work, ma’am. And I thank you for the compliment.” Even if it was backhanded.
Widow Pierry scoffed. “Don’t get any ideas, girl. It takes more than a pretty face to win a man’s heart. You’re as witless as that boy you drag around. Men like charming, skilled women. You can’t cook or sew. Stars, you can’t even clean without fainting you’re so delicate. You’d never be able to sing or draw, much less manage a house and children. Any man with sense would run at the sight of you.”
Axly suppressed a grin, having charmed more men in more balls and bedrooms than the Pierrys could dream of. But Widow Pierry was right about one thing—any man with sense would run at the sight of her.
