Star Mother (Star Mother #1)(2)

Fortunately, my soon-to-be cottage was close by, so we darted from the trees to its finished walls. Caen sat on a joist of the roof, working thatch into place. He looked up as we darted inside.

A small smile tugged up the side of his mouth. “Oh, Ceris. What have you done now?”

I beamed at him, his attention warmer than the Sun’s own light. “Nothing terrible!”

Farmer May shouted again, far more distant.

Caen frowned. “Nothing terrible?”

I pulled the knot from my muddy dress and twirled, letting the skirt fan out. “Only propped up Farmer May’s scarecrow by her front door. We hardly moved it!”

Caen chuckled, but Idlysi was biting off the tip of her thumbnail, as though terrified Farmer May might run us through with a shovel.

Hands behind my back, I peered up at Caen. “And how are you today?”

“Better than you’re going to be.” His focus returned to the thatch.

I shrugged. “Mother hardly cares what I do.”

It was true, or at least it was true now. She’d been distant all of my adolescence, ever since my betrothal was secured. Simply put, she considered me someone else’s problem. I often felt like a cow whose milk had dried up, simply taking up space in the backyard until someone could sell me for meat.

“I wasn’t talking about you.”

Idlysi began working on the nail of her index finger.

I sighed. On my part, my mother hardly cared, but Idlysi, at seventeen, had yet to make a match. There were so few bachelors around, and since my father was the cathedral steward, he preferred not to take long trips from home, even if it were to secure a future for Idlysi. He’d have to start looking soon enough, but there was still time. Idlysi couldn’t marry for another three years.

It wasn’t long before my mother’s voice came barking through the town. There were only so many places we could hide; it didn’t take a scholar to determine the cottage was one of them.

“Idlysi Wenden!” She trudged toward the gap where the front door would go. Caen passed us a sympathetic look. Idlysi, tears in her eyes, scowled at me before stepping out. I followed, right on her heels.

“Terrorizing Farmer May? Really?” Mother look tired, the lines around her eyes deep. “You are too old for such things!”

“It wasn’t terrorizing,” I said in a feeble attempt to defend our actions. “It was moving a scarecrow from one side of the house to the other. We can move it right back.”

“You certainly will.” But Mother only had eyes for Idlysi. She would have grabbed my sister by the ear, were Caen—and likely a few other villagers—not watching. “And you’ll spend the rest of your day indoors, taking my share of the chores, since you have so much free time.”

I couldn’t bear to watch Idlysi crumble beneath the scolding. And it was only Idlysi being scolded. I had been the mastermind behind the joke. I had goaded her into it.

I stepped in front of my sister, forcing my mother to pay attention to me. “I will move the scarecrow, and I will take the chores, if that’s what you insist on.”

Mother frowned at me, like my presence exhausted her. “Can you not just leave her be?” Then, to Caen, “I’m sorry to drag you into this.”

Caen offered her a warm smile. “I don’t mind, Mrs. Wenden.”

Mother sighed and grabbed Idlysi by the wrist, forcing me to step aside. Head down, Idlysi followed her back to our home, leaving me behind.

Once they’d gone, Caen set down his tools. “She let you off easy.”

I folded my arms. “She always does.” I had always been different from my sisters. To me, rules were things to be bent and tried, if they detracted from happiness—mine or others’, it didn’t matter. Joy was my primary motivator. I believed that was why my parents betrothed me at so young an age. To inflict me with responsibility, yes, but also to assure themselves someone else would take the burden of ruling over me. Once the agreements were made, I didn’t matter anymore. Regardless of what I did, I was still the milkless cow in the backyard, watching through the window as my sister took my fall, again.

I wouldn’t be able to bring her along next time. The consequences hurt too much. But little did I know then how true that statement would be, or how wide our separation would become.



I helped Idlysi with her chores anyway, when my mother wasn’t there to supervise, though my sister refused to speak to me. When the chores were done and I was bored, I sat on my bed to work on my latest embroidery, though I should have been finishing my wedding dress. The embroidery was a gift for Caen, a small token to show I thought about him, a trinket to perhaps endear him to me, for while Caen was kind and long-suffering, I knew he didn’t love me. Not in the way I had grown to love him. Not in the way I so dearly wanted him to love me. He looked at me as a little sister rather than a woman to be desired.

I worked on the tapestry until the Sun had passed, and though it was but half-finished, I was so eager to show him I snuck from my home after my parents turned out their light. It was an image of Caen fighting a dragon, only the dragon wielded a sword and Caen breathed fire. I’d yet to add Caen’s legs, and the dragon’s tail was only an outline—but I thought myself so clever I wanted to share it. I wanted to impress him. I also grasped at any excuse I could to see Caen, even improper ones.