Star Mother (Star Mother #1)(27)

I looked skyward, twisting my ring so its center line flashed from amber to black and back again. I wondered how much I could sell such a ring for, or what it was even made of. Yet I had so few allies; I did not want to barter away my only connection to the one with actual power.

“Could You just pick me up and plop me down where I need to be?” I asked, chin tilted back. But I had the distinct impression Sun wasn’t listening. Likely He wasn’t able to. Perhaps He was divided again, and the light in the sky was only a portion of Him, while His other half dealt with the moon. Perhaps this ring was useless, merely a parting gift meant to make me look pretty.

Maybe I would sell it.

I took a few deep breaths and tried to orient myself. Nediah was northwest of Endwever. I would follow the road and wait for it to angle northwest. If I crossed paths with someone friendly, I could ask for directions.

The road straightened, and after a few hours, I found myself again enveloped by trees. I ate some of Telda’s bread, constantly scanning my surroundings and listening for sounds of human or predatory life. The small creatures of the forest I passed seemed completely indifferent to me, which came as a relief after the wolves and the bandits and the people of Endwever. Different though I may have become, in my mind I was still a mortal woman, nearly twenty-one years of age, misplaced in time. I was no god, demigod, or godling. I was nothing to worship. I had not conquered some great feat by surviving what other women had not. I had no idea why I had woken to the glass roses on my chest when I could have sworn I looked Death in the eye. Then again, I had always been a fanciful person, much to my parents’ chagrin. Perhaps my fancies had simply gotten the better of me.

I shuddered involuntarily, my hand again touching my stomach.

An unpleasant feeling went up my spine, almost like a chill, except it burned hot, similar to the fiery contractions I’d felt before going into labor. Leaning against a tree, I waited for the sensation to go away, and relaxed when it did.

I had not gone far—perhaps a mile—when I heard a clamoring of horse hooves in the forest. I turned toward the road, only to realize I’d wandered away from it and the hoofbeats were coming from the trees to the south. Unsure if the rider would prove to be my salvation or another bandit, I stowed away behind an old oak, peeking out in the direction of the sound. It came closer, closer . . . and I spied a horse without a rider. It didn’t even wear a saddle.

It was possibly the loveliest creature I’d ever seen.

The stallion was dark and large, what I imagined a warhorse must look like. Its mane and tail were like midnight, with faint purple hues. Its body was strong and lithe. But as soon as it passed beneath a ray of Sunlight, I realized it was no normal horse, for the light passed through it, highlighting its spectral quality. It was then I noticed there was no trail for it to gallop on; the trees clustered in too many places. Yet it passed right through them, as though it ran in a field and not a forest.

I gaped, no longer hiding myself as I should be. What sort of godling is this?

The horse grew close and almost passed me, running about thirty feet to the south. But it slowed as it neared me, rearing its head silently, nostrils flaring as it sniffed the air.

Turning its head, it looked right at me.

In the distance, I heard a new commotion. I couldn’t tell what it was, but it came from the same direction as this steed.

In an instant the dark horse was before me, flashing through the trees with barely a twitch of its legs. I stumbled back and would have fallen, if not for the trunk pressing into my shoulders. The stallion was nearly twice my height, and though it was magnificent, it frightened me.

“You are a star mother.” Its voice was like the wind, its tone incredulous. Male.

I swallowed. “I-I am.”

The commotion grew louder. The stallion looked over its shoulder, ethereal muscles twitching.

His attention flew back to me. “Hide me. Please.”

I gaped. When I didn’t respond, the godling moved as though to nudge me, but his muzzle passed through my arms just as his body passed through the trees. The motion put me at ease—if the creature could not touch me, surely it could not harm me.

But that caveat likely did not pertain to his pursuers.

“Hide you?” I asked. “From what?”

I recognized the commotion as running, though I could not identify the animal. A small flock of ravens burst from the forest a short way to the west.

“They won’t hurt you. Please help me,” he begged, crouching and dropping his head. “They are looking for me. Your starlight will mask me.”

His pursuers rocked the forest like thunder. The horse godling whinnied.

I spoke through my fear. “I need a guide to Nediah,” I hurried, hushed. “If you will take me to Nediah, I will hide you from your pursuers.”

I didn’t know how I would do it, but from his confidence, I assumed he did.

The godling lifted his head. “Done.”

The body of the dark horse dissipated into a midnight breeze, swirling around me and billowing my skirts before spiraling into a tight ball that disappeared into the pocket of my dress.

There was no time to fret. The commotion tumbled toward me, and three godlings—two large and one small—burst into view from the trees. The small one looked like a gremlin wearing a clay mask, and the two large ones appeared to be twins. Their big bodies, covered in thick fur, resembled bears with equine legs, but they had upright torsos and humanoid faces. Mostly. It was as if someone had grabbed the bottom halves and pulled them forward to mimic a muzzle. They each had a pair of long white horns growing out of their skulls, pointing backward. The only difference between them was that one’s horns had blue stripes and the other had silver.