Starspell, page 1
part #2 of The Vale of Stars Series
Starspell
The Vale of Stars: Book 2
Hailey Griffiths
Copyright © 2019 by Hailey Griffiths
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Cover illustration by Jo Painter
Mom,
for naming my crayons and giving them backstories
for filling my childhood with books
for letting me dress the cat
and for taking the time to teach rather than smack
I hope the next life is kinder
Contents
1. Nine Hearts
2. Blood Magic
3. Heskia
4. Displaced
5. The Kindness of Enemies
6. Moonrise
7. Tethered
8. A Caged Elle
9. Flashes of Future
10. A Deal
11. Expected Guests
12. Into Laurel House
13. The Fire Stone
14. Together Again
15. The Upper Reaches
16. Truth is a Labyrinth
17. Colors of the Past
18. The Truth
19. Back to the Murk
20. A Bonding
21. Trinae
22. Again
23. A warning
24. Fire
25. The Key
26. Mothers
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Acknowledgments
1
Nine Hearts
“I hesitate even to keep a journal. The smallest clue could give me away, but customs must be kept.
I’ve always understood that better than her.”
Ellentyre, 31st Grace
“It’s a good butt,” mused Jesna.
Elle’s best friend stabbed her shovel into the ground, leaned casually on the handle, and flicked her long blonde braid over her shoulder. Elle followed her gaze across the dappled clearing to where Kaiserian was grooming his enormous midnight horse.
He’d finished brushing it and was now making his way around the creature, lifting each wicked hoof and peering intently at it.
Elle’s cheeks flamed as she noticed what Jesna had noticed, that the foreign lord wore rather tight pants. And that they fitted him very well.
She bit the inside of her cheek, trying to hide her smile, and hit Jesna’s shovel with her own. It only made her friend cackle louder.
Kaiserian turned to look at them, and Jesna immediately stopped laughing to scowl at him until he went back to the hooves.
“I mean, he’s a power-mad, fire-breathing foreigner who’s invaded our home, but he has a good butt.”
“Jesna!” hissed Elle.
“You didn’t notice?”
Elle rolled her eyes, but her cheeks were still burning. It had been so long since she’d noticed any man. Shaking her hair back, she said, “Of course I noticed. He’s been living in my hearthome for a week.”
Jesna waggled her eyebrows at her, and she giggled.
“Stop! And he’s not power-mad. At least, he doesn’t seem to be.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. You wanted to talk about how you’re stuck inside a magical wall of roses while an evil fire wizard tries to take over your city?”
“I definitely do not want to talk about that.”
It had been a week since Jago and his Ashlords had come galloping out of the Everwood, sanctioned by Annaria to arrest Elle. The rose-briar wall had been the first defense that came to mind, the only thing that Elle could erect quickly enough to safely seal off her hearthome, Sylve, from the forest—and the people who wanted to hurt her.
And now it was the thing that cut her off from the rest of the Vale, while the Pyromancer roamed free.
Elle made a face. She might be safe from evil fire wizards in here, but she was by no means alone. Aside from Kaiserian and his good butt, and Jesna, who had only just arrived, Tyress had also elected to stay, along with her secretary, Saskia.
And Elle was almost out of nerves.
The old woman kept popping up to interrogate Kaiserian about his brother’s plans, and when he managed to give her the slip, she hunted Elle down to try and dictate their next steps. As if they were a band of heroes in an adventure story.
“It is a good wall though. Very pointy.” Jesna shifted her arm to display the long scratches along her bicep.
“You’re not getting any pity from me.” Elle picked up her shovel and used the sharp edge to cut a neat square in the turf. “I warned you about the roses. They’re feisty.”
Echo had carried messages back and forth between Sylve and Ystellia, but Jago and his murderous cronies were lying low, and Annaria, as usual, was playing her cards very close to her chest.
Adron and Jesna hadn’t been able to dig up much. They knew Tainn was missing, possibly hidden away by Annaria, but they couldn’t find even a whisper of his location.
Without information on what was happening in Ystellia, Elle was at a loss. Technically, she was no longer Grace. But Magla, her replacement, was only a pawn in whatever great game Annaria was playing. Elle needed to be smart in whatever she chose to do next. She’d been avoiding Tyress not only because the woman set her teeth on edge, but also because she had no idea where to start unraveling the mess she’d helped create.
Well, that wasn’t entirely true. She had one very clear task, and she was very glad Jesna had come from Ystellia to help.
“But they’re so pretty.” Jesna pouted at the wall of roses, and with a long-suffering sigh pulled her shovel from the ground and started digging again. “Pretty things aren’t supposed to hurt you.”
“I’m sure I’ve heard those exact words from Ystellian girls. About you.”
Jesna winked at her, and Elle turned back to her square of turf with a smile. She lifted it gently, shaking it loose from the soil below while trying not to disturb the roots too much. It went onto a nearby patch of lawn, next to the other three squares she’d carefully excavated. She wanted this to be as perfect as she could make it.
The rose wall in question rustled in the breeze. It was never fully silent, as if it truly did possess some kind of life of its own. But Elle was happy for it to make as much noise as it liked if it kept the Pyromancer out.
“So Tyress…” said Jesna.
“I’m going to kill her,” said Elle. “I’ll pretend it’s a side-effect of her weird, incurable illness. But really it’s a side-effect of her personality.”
“None of the things Adron suggested worked?”
“Stars, I wished they had.” A week had given Elle time to try out a myriad of cures on Tyress’s mystery illness. “Then I could have packed her back up to play with her friends on the Synod.”
Jesna grimaced. “I have a few more suggestions from him. Hopefully one of them works.”
There was a strange intensity to her voice, and Elle knew it wasn’t because she cared deeply about whether Tyress was healed.
“What’s wrong?” Elle stopped her digging, and turned to face her friend. “It’s spreading, isn’t it?”
Jesna bit her lip. “Yes.”
“And none of Adron’s cures are working?”
“He’s hoping they might work if you make them.”
Elle nodded, and they kept digging. The square hole was about ankle deep now. Jesna didn’t push her for answers—she had absolute faith in Elle’s ability to figure out anything to do with the Godstars.
And Elle couldn’t quite describe how this time the magic felt different. The healing starmarks should have come easily now that she’d bonded Onkryn, the Godstar of healing, but they were slippery and hard to conjure.
For now, she focused on the digging, falling into a rhythm with Jesna. It felt good to finally be doing something useful. She’d been going quietly mad what with avoiding Tyress (aside from her failed healing attempts), sussing out Kaiserian (not that she’d admit it to Tyress), and spending the rest of her free time trying to figure out what to do next.
She didn’t need to be digging. She could have cleared a deep hole with the wave of her hand—nature spells were at least something that came effortlessly—but it felt right to dig. To put her sweat and time into this.
The ache in her hands and shoulders made her feel useful. She was doing something, even if it was none of the things that clamoured for her attention.
Tempers inside the briar wall were beginning to wear thin. She needed to make a move, and soon, before being stuck inside the wall did Jago’s work for him. She’d tried four cures on Tyress, and each one had failed to have any impact on the woman’s symptoms. Everything from her fever to the strange markings that swirled across her skin was still firmly in place.
“How many others are sick?”
“Not too many yet, about ten.” Jesna pulled a face and said softly, “But one or two aren’t from Ystellia.”
“So it’s spreading to the other villages?”
“Just in the Everwood.”
But for how long?
Elle wiped sweat from her brow and jumped out of the hole they’d been digging. It was deep enough now.
Jesna stabbed her shovel into the ground next to Elle’s and leaned against her, hip to hip, shoulder to shoulder. Their earlier banter had dissolved with the news of the spreading disease—and the weight of the task that came next.
A cough sounded beh
Elle’s body tensed instantly. She had forced her jaw to relax, and only Jesna’s quick squeeze of a hug helped calm her enough to turn and face Tyress.
The old Synodwoman was leaning against Saskia, her cheeks red with fevered heat.
“Why are you out of bed, Tyress?”
Tyress started to answer, but her voice broke and dissolved into a coughing fit. Saskia patted her on the back absently, her eyes cast skyward, a long-suffering look on her face.
Saskia’s cheeks were flushed, and her blonde hair was stringy and pulled back into a messy bun. It was not a good look for her.
“I told you I’d try Adron’s latest suggestions this afternoon, Tyress.”
“Are you—” Another bark of a cough, “trying to kill me?”
“Quite the opposite, you—” Elle stopped the insult before it could escape. “I haven’t forgotten the terms of our deal. I heal you in exchange for the location of your Godstar.”
Tyress harrumphed.
“Of course, you could always just tell me anyway…” Elle looked expectantly at the old woman, even though she knew she wouldn’t budge.
“And have you go haring off to get yourself killed before you heal me?” Tyress shook her head. “I’m old. Not insane.”
Elle took a deep breath and forced herself to calm down. “I’ll find you this afternoon, to try Adron’s latest suggestion, but I have things to do now.”
“Yes,” Tyress coughed, “I know. And I don’t approve of it any more than I did yesterday. You’re just as stubborn as your mother ever was.” Another coughing fit. They waited, Jesna rolling her eyes, while long-suffering Saskia thumped on Tyress’s back. “I’ve come to be here for that. If you won’t wait for the families—”
Elle’s hands curled into fists. It was impossible to stay calm around this woman. “Don’t talk to me about my mother. And you know why I won’t wait for the families. Those hearts are seeped in pyromantic power. Just because I can’t understand it, doesn’t mean I can’t feel it. We can’t afford to leave them somewhere accessible.”
“You don’t know that burying them will solve the problem. At least Ellentyre was logical—”
Elle growled, but a quiet voice cut her off.
“She does.”
The women whipped around.
Kaiserian stood behind them, his copper skin gleaming from the effort of grooming his horse.
Tyress sniffed. “Well, I suppose you’d know. You were a part of bringing down the Mistwall with those poor hearts.”
The nine hearts that Elle had reclaimed from inside the Mistwall had succeeded in repairing the tear in the ancient barrier, but it hadn’t rid the organs of whatever spell had animated them in the first place. They were dormant now, locked in the magical ice Elle had conjured, but they needed to be dealt with. Kaiserian had helped with some ideas of how to mute the dark magic infusing the hearts, and he’d helped build the metal boxes they now rested in.
Tyress’s sharp words never seemed to bother the outland lord, who shrugged and said, “I’ve provided what advice I could. Elle, can I help you move the boxes out here?”
She nodded, trying not to get flustered under the gazes of the other three women, and determinedly ignoring the small smile dancing at the corners of Jesna’s lips.
Elle turned stiffly and set off for the greenhouse, which was nestled between Sylve’s great roots at the back of the hearthome. She heard soft footsteps behind her as Kaiserian and Jesna followed her.
He had been modest when he’d said he’d offered advice. He’d spent most of the week building small metal boxes from scraps.
Elle had then enchanted them as best she could with starmarks for peace. She couldn’t dispel the pyromancy that lay curled in the hearts, but she could layer over it with the kindest spells she could muster.
The boxes were also layered in silence spells. Elle hadn’t been lying when she’d said the reason they needed to bury the hearts was to keep them from the Pyromancers. Her spells should mute the pyromantic resonance, and stop them from being dug up to be used in foul magic.
There were nine small boxes, and Elle, Jesna and Kaiserian carried them out one at a time, three trips back and forth each. Saskia looked as if she wanted to help, but she couldn’t leave Tyress’s side. The old woman looked dreadful, but no amount of suggestions from Elle to go to bed would have any effect.
A chill wind trailed through the clearing, setting the briar wall rustling, and bringing the sweet, floral scent of spring with it. The bright freshness of the day seemed somehow inappropriate to Elle. Funerals were meant to be dark and sad. Certainly rainy.
But then she thought of Sephanie, and small Raitel, both creatures of light. Maybe the sun was appropriate after all.
Once the nine boxes were placed neatly in the freshly-dug hole, Elle walked around them—facing the others—and spoke the elegy to set the dead free:
From the Stars, you were born,
To the Stars, you return.
You were
Are
Will be
Stardust,
Lost to us, but never to the world.
Walk with the Godstars.
Until we meet again.
“Until we meet again,” echoed the others, Kaiserian’s voice low and solemn against the chorus of female voices.
They took turns filling in the grave, one slow spadeful of dirt at a time. Even Tyress contributed, although Saskia made sure to scoop up only the lightest dusting for her to sprinkle.
They placed the four squares of turf neatly back over the tamped down dirt, only a small hillock marking the grave.
Elle knelt down and took a handful of seeds from her pocket. She sprinkled them over the ground, then followed them with a handful of starmarks.
The goldenrod seeds sprouted and grew, spreading and webbing across the ground until the small grave was covered in yellow blossoms, each winking with a gentle inner light. Elle had infused as much luck magic as she could into this herb, magnifying its innate qualities. She hoped the extra dose of magic would help to guard the hearts against any outside influence.
Tyress sighed loudly and looked sternly at her.
“Fine,” she said. “I’ll tell you about my Godstar.”
2
Blood Magic
“She’s gone mad with the knowledge. I thought that, as the priestess, she would be sympathetic about Cygnelle’s song. Instead, she is possessive. She wants the Godstar for herself.”
Elena, 25th Grace
They made their way to the back of the enormous hearthome, toward the greenhouse that was tucked among Sylve’s roots. Old, cloudy glass was embedded deeply into the flesh of the giant roots, the hearthome growing itself around the structure set by an ancient Grace.
Surrounding the greenhouse were extensive gardens, which produced a variety of vegetables all year round. High up in the canopy, Sylve’s branches had been trained to grow around in a wide, open circle, allowing sunshine through to warm the ground.
That same sunshine filtered into the greenhouse, warming the air inside, and the herbs and flowers strained toward the lit glass. The air was full of quiet, botanical industry.
The warm brightness shaded to a dim, earth-scented space at the back of the greenhouse, deep in Sylve’s trunk. Elle had set up her very own stillroom in the dark space. Shelves of jewel-bright bottles stood alongside chaotic walls of plants that preferred the dark and the hodgepodge collection of metal and ceramic clutter that served as the basic tools for any potions maker.
Jesna swept straight for the jars that held flamemoths, dropping in sugar cubes for the moths, their waking wings lighting up the cozy space.
The rest followed, Tyress leaning heavily on Saskia and collapsing with a grunt into Elle’s reading corner. Kaiserian, for all his clear curiosity, had politely avoided exploring too far into Sylve, and he gazed around the greenhouse-cum-potions room with his usual wide-eyed wonder.
