The High Lord (Legends of Trianon: Starla Book 2) Read online

  Starla moved away from the door reluctantly, her fear rising, but she quelled it with her determination. As far as she knew, this man had not done anything to earn her reaction. Just as with the High Lord, she would give him a chance before passing judgement.

  “First, I offer my apologies for the trial. In fact, I am surprised that you would speak to me at all. I did try and get you executed.”

  Starla swallowed hard but managed a small shrug. “I have been cleared by the King. I see no harm in hearing you out. Besides, you have said that you were only trying to protect your people. I cannot fault that. I am curious, though, to hear why you would assume me to be that big of a threat.”

  The Baron nodded, still not having looked her fully in the face. “I need you to understand that this war has torn us apart. I know it might seem like life is relatively peaceful out there, but it isn't. People are dying, Starla, every day. And the man behind all of it is Larkel.”

  Starla stilled, resisting the urge to deny his claim. The Larkel she knew was powerful, and even a little bit scary, but he was also kind under all the ice. Her mind flashed to one of her first memories here in this city, of teenagers jeering and a one-armed man warning them that they could share his fate if they made the High Lord angry. Another part of her mind countered with the way he had defended her and officer Thum, the gate guard she had deceived, proving that the dark reputation that followed him couldn’t be deserved.

  “I know it is hard to believe. He puts on a good show when he wants to, but please, I beg you, don't end up on the wrong side of this war out of ignorance.”

  Starla wet her lips and watched his eyes follow the movement and grow intense with some long lost memory, just as they had in the dungeons. He spun to the window breathing hard.

  She shook her head at his back. Something seemed to be slightly off about this man, and it did not help that his presence seemed to cause her to relive the attack from Earth. Even if she quelled the memory, the fearful nagging in her mind never quite went away. It was different from the fear engendered by the High Lord’s aura of power. This felt more substantial, somehow.

  Was the High Lord right? Did this man have something to do with the blank space in her mind?

  “Can you tell me why you blame him?”

  The Baron turned back to her and sighed, keeping his eyes focused on hers. “That is a long story, too long for an unsafe location like this one. If he finds me here, I do not think even my position will save me.”

  He left the threat in the air, and Starla waited, unable to deny the sincerity in his voice.

  “But I did want you to know that he is the reason I stood against you at your hearing. He took to you too quickly. You are a stranger, a human, there should have been no reason for him to take your side so fast. Then he broke protocol, performing a Trace without following the rules.” He met her eyes briefly, his own empty once more. “It isn't the first time he has flouted the law, nor the first he has managed to avoid being reprimanded for, but always, people have died because of it.”

  His words chilled her, and she suppressed a shiver. She wasn’t sure he was telling all of the truth, but there was definitely some truth to his claims.

  “So you see, I thought you must be in league with him somehow and so, undeniably, a danger to my people.”

  Starla managed a small nod. “I see. You have no reason to apologise. You must defend your people.”

  He gave her another smile that seemed to hint at disbelief, then he straightened, stepping closer. “I also came to make you an offer, to help you get away from Larkel without it costing your life.”

  “Get away from him?”

  He tilted his head and clicked his tongue, a sound that heightened the nagging in her mind followed by a flash of rough hands grabbing her chin. She shook the memory away.

  The Baron eyed her for a moment then sighed.

  “Come now, surely you have noticed the aura of power he possesses, the fear and hate that follow him everywhere? He won't let anyone see you, and I know that if you tried to leave, he would stop you.”

  Starla grimaced, and the Baron's eyebrows rose. “Ah, I see you've already tried. Then you must realise I speak the truth. Please, I don't know how you got wrapped up in this, but you need to get away from him, or his designs on you may cost much more than just your life.”

  Starla rose as he took another step, not comfortable staying seated. He seemed to be waiting for an answer, and Starla shook her head.

  “Thank you, Baron, for coming to apologise. It was a kind gesture, especially as it was unnecessary. You were doing what you felt you must in a difficult time, and I cannot blame you for that. Even now, you are still trying to protect your people.” He tilted his head again, considering her and seeming to try hard to keep his eyes on her own and away from her lips as she spoke. “But I—”

  He made an annoyed sound and stepped closer. “You're not listening. Larkel will kill you. I don't know what he wants, though I guess it has something to do with your mysterious arrival here, but there might be more to it.”

  His eyes raked briefly over her body, and she felt her muscles lock, skin crawling as the nagging in her mind seemed to pull her towards it, morphing from an empty space to a dense fog, distorting sound and images. A hand grabbed her arm, and she snapped her attention back to the room.

  “But make no mistake, Starla. Once he has what he wants, you will be worth nothing to him, and he will kill you just as he has hundreds before you. He is a murderer, a manipulator. I don't want to see someone else taken in by his show, staying stubbornly near him until it is too late for them and many more besides.”

  Starla shook her head mechanically and pulled her arm free, though she knew she'd only succeeded because he had let her. His fingers had felt like an iron clamp, cold and unbreakable.

  “I appreciate the warning, Baron, and you are not the first to give me such. But I need time to consider, to make up my own mind.”

  The Baron sighed and ran a hand over his eyes. “I am expressing myself badly if you think that you have time. Look, I—”

  The door flew open with such force that the wood shattered, the metal handle hitting the wall with hard enough to leave a hole.

  The High Lord stepped into the room and the look on his face made all the Baron's claims suddenly seem easily believable. His power seemed to be threatening the stability of the entire inn, setting the room creaking even as it picked up his hair and robe, swirling them around him.

  “If you have done anything to her, I swear I will—”

  “—kill me?”

  Starla pulled her eyes away from the terrifying vision that was the High Lord to the man still standing beside her. His jaw was tight, as if he were holding back some intense reaction, but his eyes held only a boundless emptiness that seemed terrifying, filled with pain and hate.

  The High Lord lifted his staff, eyes dark, and Starla snapped out of her shock, stepping between them with more courage than she felt. She let the part of her mind that was convinced Larkel was not the monster many seemed to believe he was take the lead over her emotions.

  “High Lord, please, he only came to talk. He has done nothing to deserve this reaction.”

  He didn't look down at her, his eyes still locked on the Baron with deadly intent. Behind him, the innkeeper and a handful of servants were trembling, looking too afraid even to run.

  Starla steeled herself and placed a hand on his, where it held his staff before him. An electric wave seemed to race up her arm, threatening to incinerate her.

  His eyes snapped down to hers. “Please, you are frightening everyone.”

  The indigo eyes above her tightened, but he lowered his staff, and her hand slipped off his. Slowly, the magic dimmed back to the usual aura of power that always accompanied him.

  The Baron clicked his tongue again, and Starla winced, pain lancing through her head.

  Through the fog came an image of the Baron leaving his discussion with a Makhi and
heading in her direction but not going past into the Hall as she had believed. He began to circle her. Pain spiked again and the fog closed back over.

  “Starla? Starla look at me.”

  She felt a big hand tilt her chin up and slowly the High Lord came into focus. “What was that?”

  She pulled away, realising she could feel him in her mind, too.

  “Such deplorable manners,” the Baron said, having used the opportunity to move around them to the doorway, stepping carefully over the mess of splinters. “You should know, Starla, that it is illegal for him to enter your mind uninvited. If you wish to file a complaint, I would be happy to assist you.”

  Starla met the grey eyes watching her. He sighed.

  “I see. I will be here if you change your mind.”

  “You will stay away from her or I will—”

  “No, High Lord. I think I have had enough death threats for one day.” He turned to the innkeeper, who was still frozen in the corridor. “I apologise for the door. Be sure to send the bill to my manor.”

  The innkeeper shook his head, bowing deeply. “You are, as always, too kind, Baron Malion.”

  Starla watched their fear for the High Lord morph into respect for the Baron as he passed the servants, murmuring further apologies.

  The High Lord stepped away, pinching the bridge of his nose and breathing hard.

  “I am sorry. I didn't mean to lose control like that.”

  Starla watched him in silence. He had certainly been terrifying, yet, in the brief moment he had been in her mind, she had sensed his overwhelming worry for her.

  He thinks the Baron will harm me just as much as the Baron thinks the same of him. Yet they cannot both be right.

  He met her eyes, his own still tight, and waved his staff, the door reforming itself perfectly, the hole in the wall sealing over.

  “I also apologise for entering your mind without permission. You looked like you were in pain.” He took a deep breath, and his staff vanished in a flash of silver light. “But my reasons don’t matter. The Baron is right. You can file a complaint if you wish. I only ask that you do not do it through him. I know I have given you little reason to trust me, but please, don't put your trust in him.”

  Starla swallowed her despairing chuckle at the irony. But no, she didn't trust the Baron. Something had happened before the trial, and it seemed that whatever magic had hidden it from her was wearing off.

  “Apologies accepted.”

  The tightness around his eyes faded a bit, yet they remained cold, his face barely softening.

  “Thank you. If you are ready, shall we see to getting you properly attired?”

  Starla took a steadying breath and managed a nod.

  ***

  Starla tried to concentrate on the shop displays as she passed but the High Lord's thoughtful silence coupled with the half-frightened, half-hateful stares they were receiving from passers-by made that difficult. As did the magnetic pull he seemed to exert.

  She laughed at herself. Even with his display of power and anger, she did not feel uncomfortable, or unsafe, around him. His presence didn’t cause shoots of nagging in her mind. In fact, she quite liked it here, his aura of power almost reassuring, somehow. Worried where those thoughts were headed, she forced her attention to the street.

  Scars of gouged out stone were visible on many buildings. The High Lord had said they were caused by magical attacks and had grown colder and more distant again. She tried to ignore the signs of magical brutality. Instead, she concentrated on the people around her. The majority were common citizens going about their daily lives, though mostly their voices died down as soon as Starla and the High Lord drew near. Some were too busy to notice. A pair of Makhi standing outside a bookseller had their noses stuck in a huge tome, entranced by the information within, talking about something called Guiding Stones. Ahead, a noblewoman walked with her nose in the air, avoiding the dirty beggars hiding in the shadows of a tavern. Interspersed with the people who could have passed for humans were several people whose eyes had vertical pupils and irises of bright yellow, orange, or lime-green, their ears long and pointed, similar to elves in the old folk tales Starla had read. These people looked generally shabbier than the rest, with many wearing the brown tunics of refugees. Here and there were some of the people with cat-like ears. Their skin sparkled like snow in the sunlight, and their hair was a mix of bright colours, red, purple, green, blue. Many of these wore the robes that marked them as Makhi.

  Hesitantly, Starla asked the High Lord about the differences. His coldness hadn't abated.

  His indigo eyes flashed to hers momentarily, and his muscles relaxed, his face becoming less harsh.

  “Those,” he said, after greeting a group of cat-eared Makhi, “were Aurelians. Their planet has very little sunlight. They are a warrior people and learn to fight from childhood. They all have decent night vision, but only their Nightstalkers can see in total darkness.”

  Starla nodded, cataloguing the information, remembering the Guardians telling her a story of a Nightstalker called Valana.

  “So the others are Cosmaltians?” she whispered as they passed a group of refugees asking for work at a bakery.

  The smells of fresh bread and sugary delicacies wafting from the store seemed too familiar for this street marred by magic and filled with people who were so obviously not human.

  “Yes,” the High Lord said, quirking an eyebrow as he guided her down a different street.

  “The Guardians mentioned it,” Starla said, resisting the urge to clutch her baby bracelet.

  She tried to recall the picture of her family. She couldn't remember any pointed ears or vertical pupils. Only cat-ears.

  “Here we are. I believe Savianna Fashions is a popular store for young ladies in need of new tunics,” he said in an odd tone. “We can get you some Galatian hair clips too, just down there afterwards.”

  Trying to ignore the furtive looks, Starla smiled at the High Lord and entered the store, the smell of fabrics and steam wafting through the door.

  Savianna Fashions was a rainbow-burst of colour. Tunics in all colours and for all classes hung on racks along the walls and split the interior of the store into three long aisles. The back wall had two doors. One was closed and the other led to a room overflowing with white dresses. The furthest wall had four cubicles along it. Starla eyed the deep necklines with despair.

  None of these will conceal the Star. How am I supposed to use my baby bracelet to find my family if it is tied to the one thing I must keep secret until I can see the Queen? Maybe if some have pockets that seal...

  A small rack near a glass counter made entirely of carved blossoms caught her eye. The tunics there had a slightly different style.

  “Good day. I am Savianna. How may I help you?” asked a tall, slender woman with rich-brown skin and silver-grey hair, seeming to appear suddenly from the rainbow-burst of fabric.

  Starla jumped back in alarm before she could stop herself. The High Lord's strong hands caught and steadied her. Although he let her go straight away, she felt their impression remain, an electric tingling echoing from her waist and left arm where his hands had held her. He still smelled wonderful, like a forest after rain in the summer.

  Sighing at her own foolishness, Starla looked at Savianna, whose cat ears twitched in what she hoped was amusement and not annoyance. “Forgive me, I didn't hear you coming.”

  “I may be only half-Aurelian, but it would displease my ancestors if I were noisy like the Cosmaltians and Galatians.” She smiled, pointed canines gleaming.

  Though her tone was perfectly polite, her nearly black eyes held the same wariness as every other citizen that Starla had seen today, pupils constricted in fear.

  “We're not that noisy,” a voice purred from behind Savianna.

  It belonged to a woman whose skin tone reminded Starla of the mahogany dining table the Amiot’s ordered from Paris. Warm and dark, with hints of red glowing under the surface.

&n
bsp; Her burnt orange eyes shone with delight as Savianna twitched around in surprise.

  “Myrena, my half-sister,” Savianna said, moving to one side so the newcomer could see the High Lord.

  Myrena's joking manner vanished, limbs locking and vertical pupils contracting.

  “I'd like a few new tunics, sleeping shifts,” Starla replied, flashing her friendliest smile and trying hard to keep her eyes away from Savianna's twitching ears. The High Lord’s eyes lost focus for a moment and Starla jumped at the opportunity. “And some undergarments, too.”

  The women chuckled then tensed again as the High Lord came back to himself and stepped forwards.

  The shopkeeper's eyes flashed up to the High Lord momentarily. “Of course, young miss. Myrena can be your assistant.” Her eyes scrutinised the silver belt at Starla's waist and her brow furrowed.

  “And a normal belt,” Starla added, remembering that silver was only for the High Lord.

  “Actually, Starla, I would like you to keep the silver belt... as an easy means of identification.” He grimaced apologetically.

  Starla swallowed her less than polite reaction and nodded.

  “No belt, then.”

  “Very well. Did you see anything you like?” Myrena asked while Savianna hovered, looking unwilling to leave her sister alone.

  “Those looked interesting,” Starla replied, pointing to the rack of tunics by the counter.

  “Ah, our latest fashions. You'll be the most fashionable citizen in town.”

  Starla followed the shopkeeper, wondering if she had really seen the curiosity and disapproval in Savianna's eyes when she looked to the High Lord as they had passed. He was now making sure to follow a strategic distance behind as they approached the clothes.

  “Here, let's see, this turquoise would suit you wonderfully. And perhaps a light rose? Deep purple or midnight blue?” Myrena began, demanding Starla's full attention.

  The High Lord stood back, waiting patiently as Starla engaged in conversation with Savianna and Myrena, using the time to push his remaining anger from his blood. The Baron was getting too confident, sneaking into her room. He felt his fists clench as he thought of what might have happened if he had been too late. Then he had to swallow a self-deprecating laugh. It seemed that the Baron hadn't intended to harm her again. Instead, he wanted her to willingly turn against him, to fear and hate him as everyone else did.