Cedric blinked, exhaustion making the world feel slightly off-kilter. He had spent too many nights restless, too many days maneuvering around nobles who watched him like a spectacle rather than a man. He wanted—needed—a moment of peace. Instead, fate had deposited a half-tangled noblewoman in his path.

  The courtyard torches casted a warm glow over the woman standing in front of him. Though “standing” might be generous, considering she was half tangled in what looked like shreds of expensive fabric. A torn dress, no shoes, hair askew… The scene struck him as both bizarre and oddly comical.

  He cleared his throat, trying not to stare at the frayed edges of her gown. How does someone end up looking like that in the middle of a castle courtyard at this hour? he wondered. His own cloak, draped across his shoulders, felt rumpled enough to serve as a rag, but he suspected he had at least a semblance of dignity left—unlike the woman, who was apparently a gust of wind away from revealing more than a polite noblewoman should.

  “Well,” he replied, offering a tentative half-smile, “I’m not the one who looks like I just wrestled a porcupine and lost. Are you all right?”

  She flushed, pressing a palm against the tattered skirt in a futile effort to straighten it. “I’m… I’m fine,” she stammered, lifting her chin a fraction, as if determined to pretend she wasn’t standing barefoot and bedraggled in front of a Starbonded knight. “You looked— I thought— I mean… are you well?”

  Cedric snorted softly, fatigue giving way to amusement. “That’s a complicated question. But I think I’m holding up better than your dress, at least.”

  Evelyne barely bit back a squeak, her hands instinctively grasping at the edges of her tattered dress as Cedric’s gaze flicked downward. Is she not wearing shoes?

  “You’re not wearing shoes,” he pointed out, his voice flat. It wasn’t a question, more an observation, though the corners of his mouth twitched despite himself. “That seems… impractical.”

  The woman, who was clutching the remains of what had once been a fine gown, stiffened. “I—well—I had shoes,” she huffed, lifting her chin as if to salvage what remained of her dignity. “But they were getting in the way, so I made an executive decision to be rid of them.”

  Cedric arched a brow. “An executive decision? I see. Bold strategy.” His tone was dry, but there was a teasing lilt beneath it. “And did you also decide to run headfirst through a hedge, or was that an accident?”

  Her scowl deepened, and she pressed a hand to her frayed skirts in a futile attempt to smooth them out. “It was tactical maneuvering.”

  “I’m sure it was.”

  She exhaled sharply, clearly exasperated. “You’re awfully quick to judge a lady’s wardrobe choices for someone who looks like he just crawled out of a graveyard.”

  Cedric snorted softly. “Fair enough.” He was tired. But that still didn’t explain why she was here. He studied her again, his amusement fading. “That aside, it still doesn’t explain why you’re sneaking around the castle barefoot, looking like you barely survived an ambush.” His sharp gaze flicked over her, taking in the anxious shift of her stance, the way her grip tightened on the shawl around her shoulders. “Who are you?”

  She hesitated. “Evelyne Amana.”

  His expression remained unreadable, but she caught the flicker of recognition in his eyes. Of course, he would know the name—her family had long been woven into Selnia’s politics.

  Cedric’s mind sifted through old lessons, memories of court discussions, and stray mentions of the Amana family over the years. Merchants, at least on the surface. That was what most people knew them for. The Amana name had been linked to trade routes, economic negotiations, and shrewd business dealings that had lined the pockets of nobles and common folk alike. But their true strength had never been in mercantile work alone. Their real talents had always leaned far more political.

  He vaguely recalled an Amana who once served as an advisor to the late King Emory, King Aldric’s grandfather. The family had always been known for their careful maneuvering, for playing the long game in the noble courts. They weren’t warriors, weren’t conquerors, but what they lacked in military power, they made up for in influence and well-placed words.

  But that was years ago. The family had declined in power since then, and if Cedric remembered correctly, Evelyne was the last surviving member of the main bloodline.

  So why was she sneaking through the castle in the dead of night?

  “Right,” Cedric said, nodding slowly. “And what exactly is House Amana’s only lady doing creeping through castle halls at this hour?”

  She swallowed, her eyes sweeping the ground as if she could find an answer hidden amongst the well kept lawn. “I was… looking for a family friend,” she said quickly.

  Cedric remained unconvinced. “A family friend,” he echoed flatly, crossing his arms. “And does this family friend know you’re looking for them, or were you planning on keeping it a surprise?”

  Her eyes flickered, just briefly, toward the archway leading to Harrick’s office.

  Cedric’s lips pressed into a thin line. “Harrick?”

  She visibly tensed.

  Cedric exhaled through his nose, already getting a headache from whatever this was about to turn into. He was about to demand a real answer when something shifted in the air—something deeper than suspicion. A weight settled in his chest, the kind of sensation he had grown all too familiar with.

  Heat prickled at his back.

  The world dimmed at the edges, his vision tightening to focus on her. The pressure in his chest coiled, not in warning, not in fear—in recognition.

  Draco stirred beneath his skin, a low, ancient rumble in the back of Cedric’s mind.

  "Kindred."

  Cedric’s breath caught, his muscles locking. His head snapped toward Evelyne, taking in the way she instinctively backed up, her hands clutching at the shawl draped around her shoulders.

  He saw it now—the tension in her posture, not just from being caught sneaking about, but from something else entirely.

  His body moved before his mind caught up.

  Evelyne’s eyes widened. “No—wait—”

  Too late. His fingers caught the edge of her shawl, yanking it back in one swift motion. The fabric slipped from her shoulders, baring the shimmering constellation marks inked into her skin.

  Cedric barely heard her sharp inhale over the sound of his own pulse hammering in his ears.

  She was Starbonded.

  Evelyne stood frozen, her breath coming fast, her expression shifting between panic and desperation.

  Cedric clenched his jaw, his grip on her shawl tightening slightly. “You’re Starbonded,” he murmured, the words almost disbelieving.

  Evelyne’s fists curled at her sides. “Please,” she whispered. “You can’t tell anyone.”

  His eyes searched hers, still processing. “Which constellation?”

  She hesitated, but only for a second. “…Lyra.”

  The moment the name left her lips, Draco stirred again, his presence reacting. The glow from Cedric’s back pulsed brighter, his connection to the celestial force inside him flaring with something unreadable.

  Cedric felt it—the way Draco bristled at the name, the way the air between them seemed to shift.

  Recognition. Old, worn, and unspoken.

  Evelyne swallowed hard, her own constellation marks glowing faintly, almost in response. “…And you’re bonded to Draco.”

  Cedric didn’t move.

  Neither did she.

  The weight of the revelation settled over them both like an iron chain.

  Cedric was quiet for a long moment, his fingers still gripping the edge of Evelyne’s shawl. His mind raced, but his body remained still, his instincts warring between caution and something else entirely. Something unfamiliar.

  Draco stirred again, his presence pressing against Cedric’s thoughts, a steady weight like coals smoldering beneath his skin.

  “Lyra.” The name rolled through Cedric’s mind, edged with something unreadable.

  Cedric inhaled slowly. “You know something.”

  Draco didn’t answer right away, but Cedric felt the constellation’s attention fixed on the woman before him. Finally, a slow rumble echoed in the back of his mind. “She is not what she appears.”

  Cedric exhaled sharply through his nose. “That’s not helpful.”

  Draco only hummed, neither confirming nor denying anything further.

  Cedric barely noticed as his hand moved on its own accord, his fingers tracing lightly over the constellation markings along Evelyne’s shoulder. The glow shimmered softly beneath his touch, shifting like stars in an endless sky. He could feel the energy thrumming beneath her skin, different from his own but still… familiar.

  It was beautiful.

  He swallowed, pushing the thought aside.

  “She really is,” Draco mused in his head, smug and knowing.

  Cedric scowled. “I wasn’t talking about her.”

  “Sure.”

  Ignoring Draco’s insufferable tone, Cedric pulled his hand back, his gaze flicking to Evelyne’s face. She was watching him, wide-eyed and uncertain, her lips slightly parted as if waiting for him to say something—waiting for him to decide.

  A silence stretched between them, but Draco’s voice rumbled low and thoughtful in Cedric's mind.

  “She must be here for a reason.”

  Cedric barely stopped himself from speaking aloud. “Obviously.”

  Draco’s presence coiled tighter in his thoughts, pressing against the edges of his mind with interest. “Think, boy. She’s the niece of that noble. The one who dared to stand against you in front of the court. The man who looks down on Starbonded like they’re rabid dogs. And yet, here she is, slinking around in the dead of night, bearing a mark like yours.”

  Cedric’s fingers flexed. He hadn’t forgotten Lord Valron’s words. That bitter, venom-laced speech about Starbonded being more trouble than they were worth. About how the Starless wouldn’t even exist if not for them.

  And yet, Valron’s own niece was bonded to a celestial.

  Interesting.

  Draco hummed, sensing Cedric’s shifting thoughts. “You could use her.”

  “Use her?” Cedric glanced at Evelyne again, taking in the way she squared her shoulders despite the nerves flickering in her eyes.

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  “Think bigger,” Draco urged, his voice like silk, threading into Cedric’s thoughts with ease. “You need strategy. You need someone who knows the politics of this kingdom—someone who can play the court better than you ever could. She was raised for this, trained for it. Groomed for it.”

  Cedric’s jaw clenched.

  “Imagine what she could do for you,” Draco continued, a purr of persuasion curling through his words. “Imagine how much simpler things would be with a sharp mind like hers guiding the more… delicate affairs.”

  Draco was right. Cedric didn’t play politics, he fought wars. He led armies. He didn’t have the patience for subtlety, and he knew there were forces at work that would take advantage of that. She was young, yes. But she had that glint in her eye, that restless energy of someone who wanted more.

  And that was something he could work with.

  “Draco”, he warned, sensing the manipulation beneath his words.

  “Oh, don’t act like you don’t see the value,” Draco crooned. “You were already thinking it. I just made it clearer.”

  Cedric exhaled sharply, dragging a hand through his hair. He hated when Draco did that. Pushed him, nudged him toward decisions before he even realized he was making them.

  But that didn’t mean he was wrong.

  Evelyne shifted, watching him carefully, as if trying to read whatever battle was happening in his head.

  He exhaled, straightening his stance. “You wanted to join a warband, right?”

  She hesitated, surprise flickering across her face before she nodded. “I do.”

  His gaze sharpened, and when he spoke, it wasn’t a question. It was a command.

  “Then join mine.”

  Evelyne blinked, caught off guard. “Yours?”

  “Unless you had plans to sneak into someone else’s.” His tone was edged with dry amusement, but his gaze flicked toward Harrick’s office with unmistakable intent.

  She opened her mouth, then closed it again, struggling to process the sudden shift in conversation.

  He didn’t give her the chance to waver. “You want to prove yourself? To be something more than just a noble’s daughter playing at war?” He tilted his head slightly, the moonlight sharpening the angles of his face. “Then come with me.”

  Draco chuckled darkly in his mind. “Good choice.”

  ***

  The sun had barely crested the rolling hills when Cedric stepped out of his tent, the cool morning air biting against his cheeks. All around, soldiers buzzed with energy, strapping on armor and packing the last of their supplies onto packhorses. The makeshift camp, set up outside of Valoria, hummed with the anticipation of departure.

  Ashfall. The name alone conjured images of smoke-wreathed spires and bustling markets teeming with merchants from across the realm. It was a city of opportunity and danger in equal measure, where fortunes could be made or lost in the blink of an eye. And now, it would be the stage for their next move against the Starless.

  As he approached the war tent, Cedric caught sight of a familiar figure hunched over a sprawling map. Emrick, his most trusted general and oldest friend, looked up at his approach. The man's weathered face creased into a smile, though exhaustion lurked in the shadows beneath his one good eye, still bandaged from the last assault.

  "There you are," Emrick said, straightening. "I was beginning to think you'd sleep through our departure."

  Cedric snorted, moving to stand beside him. "Sleep? What's that?"

  Emrick's chuckle was tinged with understanding. They both knew the weight of sleepless nights spent strategizing, planning, worrying about the battles to come.

  "So," Cedric said, his gaze sweeping over the map. "Talk me through it."

  Emrick nodded, his calloused finger tracing a path across the parchment. "We'll take the eastern road through the southern mountain pass. It's longer, but we’ll be less likely to come across any Starless sympathizers. However, it makes for perfect ambush territory if any Starless or cultists lurk about.” His finger tapped a small crossroads marked with an X. "We'll rendezvous with Keira's scouts here, then proceed to Ashfall's eastern gate."

  Cedric gave a short nod. “We should keep our current scouts ahead and double the perimeter guard. No surprises.” As he spoke, his gaze drifted to the far side of the camp, where Evelyne was tottering from one soldier to another, attempting to distribute water skins and rations.

  She looked earnest enough with her face creased in concentration, but her efforts bordered on clumsy. Several soldiers paused to thank her politely before rushing off to finish their tasks, leaving her standing awkwardly with an armful of supplies. It was almost endearing how she tried to help, despite clearly not knowing the usual rhythms of a military camp.

  Emrick followed Cedric’s line of sight. “Speaking of surprises,” he said, his voice pitched low so others wouldn’t overhear.

  “That’s the Amana girl, right?”

  Cedric’s jaw tightened slightly. “Evelyne. Yes.”

  A grunt of acknowledgment escaped Emrick as he crossed his arms over his broad chest. “Bringing her along’s a big risk, you know. The Amanas have… a history. They’re known for playing the long game in politics, not for marching to war. I remember the stories—even in the Wastes, people talk. You sure this is wise?”

  Cedric glanced at Emrick, noting the guarded concern in his friend's eyes. “I know what I’m doing,” he replied simply, a hint of impatience creeping into his tone. “She’s already proven she can handle herself. Maybe not in a fight, but in the realm of strategy. And let’s not forget: we need every advantage we can get out here.”

  Emrick’s gaze slid back to Evelyne, who had nearly dropped an entire armful of ration packs when a soldier came sprinting by. A reluctant sigh escaped him. “If you say so. Doesn’t look like much of an advantage from here.”

  “She’ll learn,” Cedric insisted, quietly but firmly. “And in the meantime, we can use her connections and her knowledge of how the nobility thinks. We’re headed to Ashfall—one of the biggest trade hubs in the Heartlands. Who better to help us navigate delicate negotiations than someone from a mercantile and politically savvy background?”

  Emrick still looked skeptical, but loyalty won out in his expression. “I’ll trust your judgment,” he said finally, uncrossing his arms. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you if the girl ends up falling into one of those ravines along the way.”

  A rare, fleeting smirk tugged at Cedric’s lips. “If that happens, I’ll take full responsibility.” He paused, shifting focus back to the maps strewn across a makeshift table. “Now, about these passes—”

  Emrick leaned forward, his attention once again drawn to the maps splayed about. “We’ll move out once dawn breaks, crossing the Blackstone Bridge by midday. That’s where we’ll need to double scouts. If an ambush is likely to happen, it would be at this choke point.”

  Cedric nodded thoughtfully, mentally noting each point Emrick highlighted. “Agreed. Once we’re through, we’ll camp by the southern river fork, then reach Ashfall in three more days if the weather holds.”

  Over Emrick’s shoulder, Cedric caught sight of Evelyne nearly colliding with a cart as she tried to deliver a pouch of dried fruit to another soldier. A flush of embarrassment pinked her cheeks even from a distance. Yet she kept going, determined. With a small shake of his head, Cedric focused on the plan again.

  “Make sure each squad leader’s briefed,” he told Emrick. “We’ll split the cavalry from the main force at the first sign of trouble. I want them ready to flank if necessary.”

  Emrick grunted, rolling up the map. “Understood. Just keep the girl out of the way if things get hairy.”

  Cedric cast him a sidelong glance, pressing his lips into a firm line. “She’s here to learn, and hopefully do more than you think,” he said, his tone leaving no room for argument. “We’ll see how it goes.”

  Satisfied, Emrick bobbed his head once. “Right. I’ll see to the men, then. We roll out in an hour, no excuses.”

  As Emrick departed, Cedric allowed himself one more look at Evelyne. She’d managed to get rid of most of the supplies she was handing out, but now she was wrestling with an unwieldy cluster of water skins on her hip. The soldiers she offered them to looked both grateful and a bit amused, yet none outright rejected her help.

  A hint of warmth spread through Cedric’s chest before he pushed it down, reminding himself of the bigger picture. He needed her mind, her noble background, her knowledge. Yes, she was a bit na?ve when it came to military life, but there was a spark in her. One he intended to foster.

  So with a slow exhale, he readied himself and stepped out of the tent, cloak trailing behind him. At a glance, it looked like any other gathering of troops. Men and women moved with practiced urgency, saddling horses, tying down gear, and double-checking weapons and provisions. But the undercurrent set this camp apart. The air buzzed with tension, every whispered glance and hurried step reminding Cedric that he was more than just their general—he was Starbonded.

  His gaze continued to sweep the rows of wagons and mounted troops as he patrolled, his shoulders stiff with resolve. Whether or not people accepted him, he had a job to do, and that meant showing them he was more than just a pair of glowing marks on his back.

  A soldier at the far edge of camp struggled with a stubborn packhorse, the animal refusing to let him secure the saddle’s straps. Cedric approached, calling out, “Need a hand there?”

  The man looked up, eyes flicking to the faint glimmer of the constellation marks peeking from beneath Cedric’s collar. His jaw tightened, indecision flashing across his face. In the space of a breath, Cedric saw the unease, the distrust. But the soldier gave a stiff nod, letting Cedric take over the reins.

  “Here,” Cedric murmured, keeping his voice level as he gently tugged the strap into place, speaking soothing words to the horse. Within moments, the animal snorted but allowed the saddle to be secured. The soldier’s tension eased, and he offered a halting, appreciative salute.

  “Thank you, sir,” he managed, his gaze sliding away as if he couldn’t bear to look Cedric in the eye too long.

  Cedric offered a small, understanding nod. “We ride together soon. Make sure you’re ready.”

  The soldier muttered a quick “Yes, sir,” before turning away, and Cedric could almost feel Draco bristling in the back of his mind, the celestial’s presence a roiling heat against his thoughts.

  “They fear you,” Draco noted, a low snarl coloring each syllable. “Tucking their tails like whipped dogs, unable to acknowledge their own savior.”

  Cedric forced his jaw not to clench. Keep it together, he told himself. He’s just—

  “Burn them,” Draco continued, his tone unexpectedly venomous. “They don’t deserve the shield you offer if they shrink from your power.”

  Cedric set his mouth in a grim line. “They’re my men,” he reminded Draco sternly. “I won’t threaten them because they’re unsure.”

  “Ha! If you want to talk like a leader, then demand the respect a leader is due,” Draco retorted with a snide snap. “Letting them cower or turn their eyes away dishonors you—and me.”

  “Respect is earned,” Cedric insisted, ignoring the heat rising in his chest. “It’s not forced or coerced.”

  Draco only rumbled in disagreement, a tangible warmth thrumming along Cedric’s spine. But the constellation quieted, clearly unwilling to press the argument at that moment.

  Cedric continued his rounds through the camp. Wherever he went, soldiers paused with uncertain deference, some nodding politely, others offering sidelong glances that mingled wariness with curiosity. A few relaxed the moment they saw how hands-on he was—bending down to help secure wheel hubs on a supply wagon, testing a bow’s string for a younger recruit, or hoisting a heavy crate onto a cart, ignoring the sweat beading at his brow. Each quiet act of assistance chipped away at the tension, one task at a time.

  He was halfway through a final inspection of the camp’s perimeter when Harrick approached, his footsteps crunching on the gravel. The older man’s armor, worn but well-maintained, spoke to his long years of service. He had the upright bearing of a seasoned leader, and the soldiers who caught sight of him offered respectful salutes before hurrying on with their duties.

  “Cedric,” Harrick greeted, voice carrying a note of quiet authority. “You have a moment?”

  “Of course,” Cedric replied, turning from a pair of scouts he’d been instructing. He nodded for them to continue, then folded his arms and faced Harrick. “What’s on your mind?”

  Harrick’s gaze drifted over the tents and wagons. “We’ll be setting out for Ashfall soon, and from what I gather, you plan to split from my squad once we reach the mountain pass?”

  Cedric inclined his head. “That’s right. Ashfall is a critical trade hub, and there’s been talk of activity from the Starless. Figured we’d cut across the pass; you and your men can continue to the Heartlands proper.”

  A slow nod. “Makes sense. I just hope you’ve accounted for the terrain. That pass is treacherous, especially if the weather turns.” Harrick’s tone was neutral, but Cedric detected the underlying concern. “We won’t be able to send reinforcements quickly if things go sour on your end.”

  “We’ll manage.” Cedric offered a small smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I appreciate the worry, though.”

  Harrick regarded him a moment, his gaze drifting over the rows of tents, the soldiers harnessing horses, and finally landing on Evelyne who hovered near a stack of crates, trying to look busy. “So, you brought her.”

  Cedric followed his glance, settling on Evelyne as she fussed with a piece of twine that refused to tie properly. “Yes,” he said simply, voice taut.

  “I’m curious.” Harrick’s tone held a note of pointed interest. “She’s a bright girl, and I thought she might approach me for guidance. She's always been interested in hands-on experience. Yet… I never heard a word. Not so much as a letter.”

  Cedric schooled his face into careful neutrality, recalling how he’d disposed of Evelyne’s letter to Harrick before it reached him. She’s better off with me, he told himself. The letter had been unnecessary.

  “She chose me,” Cedric lied casually. “Or maybe I chose her.”

  Harrick’s brow furrowed. “I would’ve advised her differently if she had.” He paused, eyes flicking briefly toward Evelyne, who was busy distributing saddlebags to a small group of soldiers.

  Cedric cleared his throat. “Perhaps the letter just never reached you.” He shrugged, trying to appear unconcerned. “Either way, she’s with me now.”

  Harrick grunted, the sound half amusement and half disapproval. “Guess there’s no point belaboring it. You’ve got her under your wing, so to speak. But you know the court will raise eyebrows. The girl’s naive, Cedric; she has no idea how quickly politics can devour the well-meaning.”

  “I’m Starbonded, Harrick,” Cedric replied, voice low. “And that alone devours the court’s goodwill toward me. A naive noble in my ranks doesn’t even rank in their top ten concerns.”

  Harrick let out a short laugh. “Fair enough. But do you truly understand the cost of all this? I don’t give a damn that you’re Starbonded—I’ve seen enough in my time to know that a man’s actions speak louder than any celestial bond. But not everyone shares that view. Be ready for the consequences if things don’t go as planned.”

  Cedric’s fists clenched, his thoughts stirring. “He should be the one worried about consequences,” came Draco’s voice in his mind, each word laced with simmering anger. “Questioning our leadership like that… we could crush him if he tries to stand in our way.”

  Cedric’s lips twitched in annoyance as he tried to push Draco’s comment aside. He was tired of the constellation’s incessant nudging, and mustering enough energy to argue felt like wrestling a current that only grew stronger by the day. Instead, he mentally commanded Draco to focus on the mission ahead, letting the starry presence simmer in sullen silence.

  “I’m prepared,” Cedric said at last, locking eyes with Harrick. “And if the court wants to cast stones, they know where to find me.”

  “Then I wish you luck.” Harrick touched his fingers to his temple in a quick salute, then shifted his attention to the reports tucked under his arm. “We all know luck’s in short supply these days.”

  Cedric returned the gesture, a small nod of respect. “You’d better save some for yourself, too. The Heartlands might not be as calm as rumor claims.”

  Harrick smirked, his demeanor softening. “It never is, Cedric. Never is.”

  He turned and strode off, barked orders already on his lips as he passed a cluster of soldiers adjusting their packs. Cedric watched him go, releasing a slow breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.

  From across the camp, Evelyne glanced over her shoulder, meeting Cedric’s eye for the briefest moment before bending once more to her tasks. He let his gaze linger, uncertain whether her presence would really be a hindrance or not. But as he reminded himself—he needed her mind, her instincts, and maybe her unwavering optimism.

  That, he thought, and Draco is already itching to burn half the court if they so much as sneer at us.