Star Mother (Star Mother #1)(37)

I stared at him for several heartbeats.

He feared Sun? But then, I supposed on this end of the universe, Sun lorded over everyone. He was the ultimate judge, the ultimate penalty.

“Ristriel.”

He looked up at me.

I pressed my lips together. He looked so pitiful like that, so afraid. “What did you escape from?”

Lowering his eyes, he again did not answer me.

I let out a frustrated sigh. “How can I trust you if you will not trust me?”

His gaze lifted up enough to fall on my hand. Or, perhaps, on the ring on my finger, lined with amber.

Speaking so softly I could barely hear him, he said, “My oath is intact. I will take you to Nediah. I will protect you. I am sorry.”

He was still kneeling before me, head slightly tipped. Even the people of Endwever had not genuflected so lowly.

Anger dissipating, I approached him and crouched down to his level. “Do you remember your lesson to me yesterday, about being godly?”

He slowly met my eyes.

“You tell me to behave as though I am better than the people around me, but what about you?”

He blinked at me, confused.

I lifted my hand to his arm, but my fingers passed through him. “I was confused, and scared, and angry. Yes. But you are a godling, Ristriel. And as you said, your oath is intact.”

He didn’t respond.

Taking a more direct approach, I said, “Do you not know your own worth?”

His lips parted as though he wanted to answer, but no sound came from him. He looked into my eyes, his expression almost childlike, and my heart sank as I tried to picture what sort of place he had escaped. What torments would it take to convince a powerful godling that he was something less than a celestial being? For it was evident from the way Ristriel spoke, the way he moved, the way he transformed, that he did not understand his own greatness. No mortal should ever have to be convinced they were worthy of every breath they took, and no celestial being should have to, either.

I had seen Yar and Shu in Sun’s palace. I did not think they were prison guards.

Ristriel did not answer, so I asked another question, one that stemmed from the unease in my gut. “The Sun knows you?” Sun did not know half of His own servants, so why should Ristriel stick in His memory?

Ristriel looked away. He began to shift into something equine.

“Ristriel, you are safe with me.” Perhaps using his own words would inspire trust.

His shifting reverted until he was a man-shaped spirit once more. “Yes.”

I studied his eyes. “Do you know how to lie, Ristriel?”

He leaned back, surprised, and color firmed his features, almost enough to make him appear solid. “I have never lied to you, Ceris.”

“Then tell me, will you hurt me?”

He shook his head. “Never. You have been . . . kind to me.”

Those simple words struck me like a well-aimed mallet. “Will you not tell me where you came from?”

He set his jaw.

My fists tightened on the straps of my bags, then relaxed. “I believe you. And I will not hurt you, either.”

He glanced up at the bright orb in the sky. “He wants you.” While his deep, endless black eyes were childlike, the question was nothing of the sort. We both knew what kind of want he meant.

“That doesn’t matter right now.” I stood and adjusted my bags, rolling my shoulders beneath their weight. “Right now, I want to go to Nediah, and I want you to take me.”

He stood as well, studying my face. “You are not like most mortal women, Ceris.”

“I’m told I’m not quite mortal.”

His lips quirked into half a smile, a handsome expression that punctured the heaviness of the moment. “You wouldn’t be like the others even if you didn’t have starlight in your hair. You are not afraid as you should be.” He glanced westward. “But sometimes it is safer to be afraid.”

I chewed on my lip. “Are you afraid, Ristriel?”

“I am. But I am also free, and freedom is worth the fear.” He turned back to me and held out his hand. “We can still make good time today. We’ll find your kin. I swear it.”

Reaching for his hand, I wished dearly that I could take it. Instead, I let my fingers pass through his, getting the impression of distance and coolness. He gestured in the direction we should go, and as we started walking, I said, “Is there a meadow along our path anywhere?”

He paused a moment before saying, “I can take us through one, if you’d like.”

“Please.” His brief words on freedom had burrowed themselves into my blood. “I have the very strong desire to run.”





CHAPTER 12


We came across a field in the late afternoon, and I dropped my bags, hiked up my skirt, and ran through the new grasses and small violet flowers, pushing my legs as fast as they would go. I’d run from the bandits earlier, but this was different. This wasn’t desperate or terrifying, but liberating and peaceful. Running pulled me out of my gloom and threw me back seven hundred and ten years to my childhood, when I’d darted around the village and climbed trees without a care in the world. I could almost hear my mother screaming after me, telling me I was being immodest and unladylike, and what if Caen’s parents saw?