Star Mother (Star Mother #1)(28)

I clung to the horse’s promise that they wouldn’t harm me. They actually looked remotely familiar, and I wondered if I had glimpsed them at Sun’s palace during my bored wanderings.

“Ho!” the blue-striped godling called, lifting a hand as they neared me. Even after they stopped, their speed sent a gust of wind over me, whipping my hair and skirt. I lifted an arm to block debris from my eyes. The gremlin godling did not halt with the others, but bolted in a wide circle around me like a dog before heeling at Silver Stripes’s side.

“What are you?” asked Blue Stripes.

“I am Ceris Wenden.” I thanked my time at Sun’s palace, for otherwise I would have cowered before these creatures.

Silver Stripes said, “I know you. You are the living star mother.”

He studied me from head to toe.

“I am. Returned to the mortal realm by the Sun Himself.” I could not feel weight in my pocket, but I was acutely aware of a presence there, and it took all my self-control not to see if my skirt leaked midnight.

Blue Stripes replied, “We are looking for a runaway. A shapeshifter. He came this way.”

“It is only I, and I travel alone. You are close to the road. Be careful; there’s a mortal village nearby. You’ll scare them.”

Blue Stripes snickered as though that would be a delight, and the gremlin godling echoed him.

Silver Stripes tipped his head and whispered under his breath, “He’s used it again.”

I followed his line of sight, noticing nothing out of the ordinary . . . except for a single orange leaf falling from an overhead branch. It stood out among the growing green buds, a taste of autumn in the beginning of spring. A leaf that had somehow held on through the winter, only to give up beneath the glare of a godling.

Blue Stripes gritted his teeth and scanned the forest. To me, he said, “Call the names of Yar”—he pointed to himself—“and Shu”—his finger swung toward his companion—“if you see him. He is a ghost and a trickster.”

Trickster. I would have to be careful with him, then. To the godling before me, I only nodded. “I shall.”

The godlings turned about and barreled back the way they had come. The gremlin hesitated for a moment, interested in me, but then took off after his companions. They vanished among the boughs as though they had never been.

“I am no trickster.” The runaway godling poured from my pocket, taking again the form of a horse, but this time his head came only to my hip, as though the chase had stripped him of courage. “They don’t even know what they hunt.”

“A trickster would say the same thing.” I planted my hands on my hips.

He lowered his head in a bow. “I gave my word, Star Mother. I will take you to Nediah.”

My body softened. “You know it?”

“I know all mortal cities.”

I paused at that, impressed, but Yar and Shu had put doubt in my mind. “Why are they hunting you?”

The horse looked away and did not answer.

Pressing my lips together, I looked skyward and twisted my ring.

I desperately needed both a guide and protection. What better protection could I ask for than that of a godling?

Unless he was indeed a trickster. He seemed harmless, but appearances could be deceiving.

“I want an oath,” I said. “A covenant. That you will do as you say and bring no harm unto me.”

The horse looked alarmed. I did not know if it was from my requirement or from my assumption that he might be villainous.

Either way, he bowed his head. “I give you an oath that I will see you to Nediah in return for the aid of your starlight. I will not hurt you.”

“Thank you,” I whispered, and he shuffled back, as though I had uttered something far more shocking.

Curiosity bloomed. I had many questions, but I started with the easiest. “What is your name?”

He shifted, still a horse, but even smaller than before, his ears reaching midthigh. From the way he cowered, he couldn’t possibly be dangerous . . . unless he was a magnificent actor. Godlings lived a long time; they could easily master such a skill.

“Ristriel.” He spoke so quietly I barely heard him.

“Ristriel,” I repeated, holding my bags close. “We best be on our way.”

Nodding, Ristriel walked ahead of me, starting me on the long path to Nediah.





CHAPTER 10

We walked for a long time. It was like I indeed traveled with a small horse and not a godling, for our conversation was limited, interspersed with long stretches of silence. But the silence soon became comfortable, and I found I didn’t mind the quiet. I was simply happy to have a companion.

Lagging a few paces behind, I studied him. He was the blue of early night, but whenever we passed beneath the shade of a tree, he took on a more violet hue, sometimes darkening to black. He slowed every now and then to ensure I kept up. His gait was fully equine.

His ears twitched on occasion, but he stopped only once to scan our surroundings. I wasn’t sure if that was to reassess our direction or to listen for his pursuers. When I asked, he didn’t answer. When I pressed, he said, “I am making sure we are not being followed.”

Yar and Shu. I mentally repeated their names in case I should need them. Celestial beings have always been more honor bound than mortals, or so they seemed in scripture and my own experience, and Ristriel had given me an oath.