Star Mother (Star Mother #1)(29)

I could trust him, for now.

Ristriel never took me to the road, or to any man-made paths.

We stayed in the forest, once crossing a wide pasture that must have belonged to a rancher, given how the grass had been cut, but I didn’t see him or his herds.

We slipped into the woods once more, and I asked, “Why are those godlings chasing you?”

He looked at me with large, dark horse eyes as deep as a well.

When I did not look away, he confessed, “Because I ran away.”

The strangeness of the answer pricked me. “Ran away? From what?”

The godling turned his muzzle forward.

“Will you not tell me?”

“You will be safe from harm.” His voice was soft as a midnight breeze. “Especially with that ring on your hand.”

I glanced at the golden band Sun had given me. When had he noticed it?

Seeing that I would not get much conversation today, I hummed as we walked to occupy myself, calling up folk songs and lullabies from memory. Even the song sung to me in Endwever came to my lips, and it softened my heart toward those people. My people, however misguided.

When the Sun began to sink in the sky, I took a break on a fallen log and stretched out my calves. “Will we make it to a town before dark?”

The forest’s shadows were growing long. Ristriel was small enough to be swallowed in one. His color darkened again, and his shimmering stilled, making him appear solid. I squinted at him, surprised, but it must have been a trick of the light. When he stepped out of the shadow to peer at the way ahead, orange-tinted Sunlight fell over him, and he was just as ghostly as before. “There is a glade three miles from here where we can camp. The closest mortal village is seven miles south.”

I chewed on my lip. I had been afraid he’d say that. “There are wolves.” And who knew what other creatures. I’d never been this far from Endwever. I wasn’t sure if there were new predators to be watchful of, or perhaps an unfriendly godling.

But Ristriel simply answered, “They will not bother us. I will keep my promise, Ceris.”

It struck me that he had called me by my name rather than “Star Mother.” I had not yet asked him to. I hadn’t even told him my name, but he would have heard it when I announced myself to the godlings chasing him.

“Will I be safe if your pursuers return?”

He nodded. “But they will not return. Not tonight. They will not sense me if I am close to you.”

I shook Earth from the bottom of my skirt. “How close?”

The ghostly horse glanced at me. “We should continue on.”

Agreeing, and accepting that this was yet another answer I would not receive, I stood and followed him. I would have to bandage my feet before setting out in the morning, because my shoes were chafing. Spending so long in a not-palace had softened my calluses.

I wondered if the godling truly knew the Earth Mother well enough to find a particular glade, but sure enough, we found one, and I took out a small blanket given to me by Telda and spread it over the wild weeds. The spring was new enough that the night would be chilly, so I sought to build a campfire before darkness descended. Ristriel did not help me; he couldn’t pick up sticks or build them up, but he did point out some to me.

Fortunately, I had a flint among my supplies, and I managed to get a fire going. I rummaged through my sack for the rest of Telda’s bread, knowing it would spoil fastest and should be eaten first. I offered some to Ristriel, who shook his head.

Night swallowed the wood whole and completely. As I chewed my bread, I lay back on the blanket, looking for my star. I watched the sky for nearly an hour before she popped up over the tops of the trees. I smiled.

The blanket shifted as the dog-sized horse stepped onto it. I glanced over, shocked to see a very solid animal beside me. His coat glimmered like the sky above, shimmering violet where the firelight touched fur.

“You’re solid,” I murmured. I had an impulse to touch him, to test my words, but decided better of it. Ristriel seemed a mellow-minded being, but I didn’t want to test his temper.

He smiled ever so faintly—at least, as much as a horse could.

“Not for long. Not if we stay in this glade.”

I sat up. “Why? Is it . . . enchanted?”

The horse gave me a wry look. “No. Only open to the sky.” He tilted his muzzle upward. I tried to see what he saw, but there was nothing special in the heavens tonight except for my star, who twinkled merrily among her siblings. I wondered if she’d seen my tapestry.

The first-quarter moon peeked over the tops of the trees, and I caught a shift of colors from the corner of my eye. I looked to see Ristriel ethereal once more. Everywhere but his tail, which was situated close enough to the trees’ shadow that the moonlight didn’t touch it.

He sensed my question before I asked. “Moonlight and Sunlight.” He peered up at the moon, and the longing in his face was evident, despite its lack of human features. “In truth, they are one and the same.”

I tilted my head. “How so?”

“She stole it from Him.” He gazed at the moon the way a poor man might gaze at a loaf of bread. “Long ago, when she was still young and first came into her greed, she entered Sun’s domain, posing as a loyal servant. Once she earned His trust, she snuck into His room while He rested and stole a portion of His light for herself.”