When it came time to depart, she drew me close, our starlight mixing and brightening, and whispered, “They search north for you.”
I knew she meant Yar and Shu. I didn’t want to give us away, so I said nothing but my farewell, tied with a promise that I would see her again as soon as I was able.
Saiyon took my hand, and we flew through the heavens for minutes that seemed like years. The wonders around us mesmerized me, swallowing me with their vastness, until the tunnel of light rose around me again, and though I did not have the sensation of falling, I did feel a sort of descension guiding me back to Earth.
“Saiyon,” I said, after my mortal mind found a way to reorient itself after beholding the kingdoms of gods, “would You not have cared for me had I died like all the others?”
His heat cooled, then flared. “Do not hold Me accountable for the laws of the universe. Would you have no stars?”
“I am not blaming You. I am only asking.”
Another low hum emanated from within Him, somewhere inside His chest. “What I know is that I care for you, Ceris Wenden. Star Mother. What I do not know is if I would have loved the others as well.”
That word, loved, made me shiver despite Saiyon’s fiery presence, and I found I could not speak again until my feet touched the Earth Mother’s back, returned to the forest where I had slept.
“Thank You, Saiyon.” His name rolled from my tongue like a prayer.
He cupped the side of my face, His touch so brilliantly hot, so painfully genuine. “Consider Me, Ceris.”
And then He vanished, the dawn rose, and the world seemed dark in His absence.
I oriented myself toward Nediah as best I could before I searched the trees. “Ris?” I whispered, ducking under boughs and startling when a fawn darted behind me. I half expected Saiyon to return in fury, or Ristriel’s hunters to come upon me, but the forest was quiet and pleasant, the day’s temperature comfortable, the sky blue and clear with a smattering of puffy white clouds.
It had taken him a few hours to find me last time, so I hoped for the best and ate breakfast while I walked, careful with my steps, for those stumpy trees liked to pop their roots aboveground. When noon came and Ristriel still hadn’t reappeared, I found a place to rest and pulled out my tapestry to work on his likeness. While I worked, I sang the songs I’d sung to him, quietly at first, then a little louder, getting a peculiar look from a nearby cardinal. I sang verse after verse, and when I finished I started again, pausing my needlework on occasion to pop a piece of cheese or dried fish into my mouth.
When I finished the song for the seventh time, Ristriel’s voice said, “Won’t you sing it again?”
I turned toward the sound to find him sitting on a thick branch overhead, or rather floating very close to it to give the illusion of sitting. I smiled. “I was worried I’d go hoarse, calling for you.”
“For me?”
I nodded, and he floated down, landing without sound on the Earth. He looked ashamed. “I had to leave—”
“I know.” I rolled up my tapestry and slipped it into my bag. “I’m glad you did. I don’t want anything to happen to you.”
He looked at my tapestry, curious, but didn’t ask about it. “Where did He take you?”
“To the heavens, and to Surril,” I answered, wondering again at the marvels I had seen, but I only said, “I didn’t tell Him you took me first.”
His lip quirked, and he pointed me more eastward than I had been traveling, waiting for me to start walking before he fell into step beside me. “Ceris.”
“Hm?”
He watched his feet instead of me, dark hair falling into his eyes. He looked so human, so alive, but the mirage faltered every time he walked through a beam of Sunlight. “It is a new moon tonight.”
Was it already? I was still recuperating from losing time after that battle, when a false new moon had darkened the sky.
“I will be whole the night through,” he explained. “If you want, I can carry you to Nediah. We would be there by morning.” He paused, and a twig snapped under my foot. “Otherwise, it is a three-day journey by foot.”
One night to Nediah. I hadn’t realized it was so close. One night, because Ristriel could move so swiftly, even when burdened with me. One night with a godling’s magic, or three days on my own mortal feet.
One more night with Ristriel, or three more days.
“I . . . enjoy walking.” I tucked a few stray hairs behind my ear. “Three days isn’t long.” Remembering Surril’s warning, I added, “But I suppose it would be better for you, to put distance between the hunters and us.”