Star Mother (Star Mother #1)(54)

The light tunnel brightened and spiraled away, and I saw the stars—so many stars. It awed me no less than when Ristriel had taken me into the night sky. I wanted to see Surril first—she was my greatest treasure—but fear for Ristriel kept my mouth still. Instead, I let Saiyon take me where He willed.

I was not disappointed.

He took me deeper into the stars, to wild clouds of every color and shade imaginable, so vivid and bizarre I could never re-create them in stitchwork or watercolor or anything else. They were beautiful and beastly, and we passed through them, clouds of green and crimson and turquoise passing under my hand. I saw planets. Enormous planets made of swirling smoke, with demigod moons spinning around them, gold, silver, copper, topaz. I saw rings as Ristriel had described, great circles of worlds light and stone. We passed over charcoal-encrusted ruins, covered in rolling rocks with jagged edges lined with ice. When I asked about it, Saiyon told me it was an ancient battlefield from long ago, and by the distant look in His eyes, I knew it was a battle He had fought in.

I saw enormous moving necklaces of stars, which Saiyon called galaxies, twirling and beaming, so grand that even Saiyon seemed small in comparison.

And then He took me to Surril, and I was so glad to see her I laughed and wept and hugged her. She greeted me with eager arms and her father with a reverent bow. Again, I could not stay long, and I hated it, but I took in what I could. Her lovely face, her tinkling laugh, her stories of the siblings around her and the great storm she had seen on the Earth Mother, on the other side of the world from where I traveled.

When it came time to depart, she drew me close, our starlight mixing and brightening, and whispered, “They search north for you.”

I knew she meant Yar and Shu. I didn’t want to give us away, so I said nothing but my farewell, tied with a promise that I would see her again as soon as I was able.

Saiyon took my hand, and we flew through the heavens for minutes that seemed like years. The wonders around us mesmerized me, swallowing me with their vastness, until the tunnel of light rose around me again, and though I did not have the sensation of falling, I did feel a sort of descension guiding me back to Earth.

“Saiyon,” I said, after my mortal mind found a way to reorient itself after beholding the kingdoms of gods, “would You not have cared for me had I died like all the others?”

His heat cooled, then flared. “Do not hold Me accountable for the laws of the universe. Would you have no stars?”

“I am not blaming You. I am only asking.”

Another low hum emanated from within Him, somewhere inside His chest. “What I know is that I care for you, Ceris Wenden. Star Mother. What I do not know is if I would have loved the others as well.”

That word, loved, made me shiver despite Saiyon’s fiery presence, and I found I could not speak again until my feet touched the Earth Mother’s back, returned to the forest where I had slept.

“Thank You, Saiyon.” His name rolled from my tongue like a prayer.

He cupped the side of my face, His touch so brilliantly hot, so painfully genuine. “Consider Me, Ceris.”

And then He vanished, the dawn rose, and the world seemed dark in His absence.



I oriented myself toward Nediah as best I could before I searched the trees. “Ris?” I whispered, ducking under boughs and startling when a fawn darted behind me. I half expected Saiyon to return in fury, or Ristriel’s hunters to come upon me, but the forest was quiet and pleasant, the day’s temperature comfortable, the sky blue and clear with a smattering of puffy white clouds.

It had taken him a few hours to find me last time, so I hoped for the best and ate breakfast while I walked, careful with my steps, for those stumpy trees liked to pop their roots aboveground. When noon came and Ristriel still hadn’t reappeared, I found a place to rest and pulled out my tapestry to work on his likeness. While I worked, I sang the songs I’d sung to him, quietly at first, then a little louder, getting a peculiar look from a nearby cardinal. I sang verse after verse, and when I finished I started again, pausing my needlework on occasion to pop a piece of cheese or dried fish into my mouth.

When I finished the song for the seventh time, Ristriel’s voice said, “Won’t you sing it again?”

I turned toward the sound to find him sitting on a thick branch overhead, or rather floating very close to it to give the illusion of sitting. I smiled. “I was worried I’d go hoarse, calling for you.”

“For me?”

I nodded, and he floated down, landing without sound on the Earth. He looked ashamed. “I had to leave—”

“I know.” I rolled up my tapestry and slipped it into my bag. “I’m glad you did. I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

He looked at my tapestry, curious, but didn’t ask about it. “Where did He take you?”

“To the heavens, and to Surril,” I answered, wondering again at the marvels I had seen, but I only said, “I didn’t tell Him you took me first.”

His lip quirked, and he pointed me more eastward than I had been traveling, waiting for me to start walking before he fell into step beside me. “Ceris.”

“Hm?”

He watched his feet instead of me, dark hair falling into his eyes. He looked so human, so alive, but the mirage faltered every time he walked through a beam of Sunlight. “It is a new moon tonight.”