Star Mother (Star Mother #1)(39)

cows, or put peppers in our breakfast . . . Once I moved an entire woodpile to the other side of my betrothed’s house.”

He seemed impressed. “That sounds like a lot of work.”

“It was certainly a lot of splinters.”

Ristriel seemed to consider this as he resumed walking. “I was very much like you, when I was young.”

I laughed. “Leading milk cows around in the middle of the night?”

He looked abashed. “Unfortunately . . . I was not so tame.”

I watched him, imagining what sort of mischief a godling might get into. Wondering if that’s where he’d earned his reputation as a trickster. “Oh?”

By his body language, I could tell he did not want to answer, and I considered whether or not I should push for information.

However, he did relent, “Did you know the Earth Mother used to have rings?”

“Rings?” I glanced at the gold band on my finger.

He shook his head. “Not like that. In the sky.” His head tilted back as he scanned the blue-and-white expanse. “Rings across the heavens, circles of dust that lit up the sky.”

I tried to imagine such a thing. “And you . . .” I wasn’t sure how to finish the sentence.

He shrugged, and I sensed him closing off.

“But,” I interjected, stepping around a large stone, mirth dwindling, “that’s not who I am anymore. I grew up too much. And I have a suspicion that’s not who you are anymore, either.”

“Has your joy changed so much?”

I had nearly reached my bags, but his question made me stop completely. “What?”

“Your joy.” He stepped beside me, hands clasped behind him, eyes endlessly dark and curious. “Is that not what all mortals—all creatures—live for? That which brings the most happiness?” He glanced heavenward. “Did she change so much? Or did He?”

I opened my mouth, closed it. Contemplated. With anyone else, the silence might have been awkward. But Ristriel waited patiently, taking in the landscape around us while I sorted my thoughts.

“Surril did change my joy,” I said after a minute. “She became my joy. I was never able to hold her in my arms, but she means more to me than anything. And without Him, I would not have her. As for the rest . . . I haven’t been able to hold still long enough to know how much of me has changed. I’m still trying to swallow the changes of the world around me. Does that make sense?”

He nodded.

I tilted my head. “What brings you joy, Ristriel?”

The corner of his mouth ticked up. “I am still learning that as well. But you have given me something to think about.”

“Have I?” Pulling my eyes away, I picked up my bags, securing them crosswise over my shoulders. As I turned back to him, I said, “Will you start moving firewood to—”

Not two inches from my nose stood a massive black-and-violet scarecrow.

I shrieked and jumped, the weight of my bags pulling me rump first to the soft meadow.

“Hmm,” the scarecrow hummed before melting back into Ristriel. “I could see the draw of that.”

Hand to my racing heart, I laughed. “When did I tell you about Farmer May?”

He regarded me. “Farmer May?” He reached a hand out as though to help me, but the Sun made him as tangible as the fog, so he dropped it.

I gaped at him a moment. I hadn’t told him about Farmer May, had I? The last prank I had pulled with Idlysi before becoming a star mother. Ristriel had chosen a scarecrow all on his own.

It was such a small and silly thing, really, but I felt it like a plucked string right between my breasts. Pulling myself to my feet, I agreed with him. “Perhaps we aren’t so different.”

He seemed confused by my statement, though in truth he had been the first to suggest it. I did not explain—I didn’t know how well I could—so we continued our trek, sometimes in silence, sometimes with easy conversation.

The field gave way to another, and then another, the forest opening up like a great maw. The Earth began to rise and fall in soft hills, upon which grew the emerald stubs of wheat and other plants. I spied a farmhouse off in the distance and suggested we journey there. We reached it midevening, and the tenants agreed to let me shelter in the stable overnight in exchange for a few coppers. I wondered if I’d gotten them wet at the pond for them to tarnish so, but a copper was a copper. They seemed a little suspicious of me until Ristriel approached from behind. The Sun had just dipped below the gable of the house, rendering him solid, and he looked perfectly human. I introduced him as my husband, and Ristriel smoothly explained we were from a village I’d never heard of to the north, passing through to a town I’d never heard of to the south.

They believed the story and offered us a few spare blankets. Ristriel waited until they returned inside before walking to the barn, as Sunlight streaked the path. Like he had said, mortals were a superstitious lot. It was better to play it safe.

I stayed outside when the darkness descended, swift and sure, but the sky was clogged with clouds, and there was not a star to be seen. My chest tightened at the lack of light, but I reminded myself I needed to wait only another day to see her. So I sang a lullaby to Surril, one of the songs I had repeated often during my pregnancy, slipping her name in wherever it could fit.

When I returned to the stable, Ristriel had lit a lantern and hung it from the ceiling. There were two unwalled stalls available, filled with dry hay leftover from winter stores. Two horses and an ox watched me as I passed, the latter mewing softly under its breath. I dropped down onto a bale and loosened my hair, which had gone wavy since I’d braided it wet.