Starborn Legacy (A Starborn Series prequel)

Chapter twenty-five

It took a couple days before Phoebe was ready to admit that Connor wasn't coming back.

At first, she wasn't sure what to do with herself. Stunned and hurt that Rue had left without saying goodbye, Phoebe spent the rest of the first day wandering. First, she combed every nook and cranny of Ardent, poking her head into every secret hiding spot that she and Connor had discovered over the years, just in case. Once she'd covered the compound, she took to the forest. She stepped carefully through the foliage and over roots and fallen branches, taking the extra time to scan her surroundings with more attention than she usually did. As she walked, Phoebe heard Rue's words echoing in her mind.

You need to start thinking for yourself, Pheebs.

"Well, I definitely don't believe Connor teamed up with the Starborn," she muttered under her breath as she crouched down to peer into an old hollow tree she and her cousin had come across many years ago. She was disappointed to find it empty of anything other than a spider hard at work on an intricate web. "I don't care what Dad says — he wouldn't just leave."

Eventually, Phoebe's wanderings led her back to the small cottage behind her house. She hesitated and took a moment to work up her courage before approaching it. Maybe, if she believed hard enough, she would open the door to find her cousin inside, curled up on his small bed and sleeping off the night he'd spent hiding out in the woods. To Phoebe, that was the only thing that actually made sense. She pictured Connor tucked away in the trees, watching the search party scramble past him in the dark as he waited for the heat to die down. Phoebe imagined him creeping back home in the early light of day, where he could get some rest and think about what he would say to mitigate as much of the trouble that was no doubt waiting for him once he showed his face again.

But once she finally willed herself to open the door, Phoebe's heart sank: the inside of the cottage looked exactly the same as it had last night.

"It's fine," she said aloud to no one in particular. "He's probably still laying low somewhere. I don't blame him. I'm sure he'll be back soon."

She decided to keep herself busy by making sure that the cottage was nice and tidy for Connor when he returned. She spent the rest of the day's dwindling light dusting and sweeping the modest room. She cleaned the ash from the woodstove and wiped down the windows. Once the sun set, she lit a fire and put the kettle on to boil while she waited on the neatly made bed.

Phoebe didn't intend to spend that night in the cottage, and she was disoriented when she woke the following morning cold and still alone.

That's when the fear began creeping in. All the certainty she'd felt the day before about Connor simply biding his time until it was safe to reemerge was gradually edged out by worry. What if she'd been right in thinking that Connor was in danger? What if she was wasting precious time sitting there, waiting for him to return when really what he needed was to be rescued? The idea that her beloved cousin might need help sent Phoebe spiraling into a pit of self-loathing. What could she do? In all her sixteen years, she'd never ventured farther than the woods that surrounded Ardent. Anxiety bloomed in her chest at the thought of forging out on her own in search of him. She wouldn't even know where to start looking, let alone what to do once she got there.

As she sat on the edge of the bed and gnawed fretfully on her thumbnail, Phoebe's eyes combed the cottage for a clue. Surely she had missed something: a note tucked surreptitiously under a jar of oats or in the folds of Connor's spare shirt. Instead, her gaze gravitated to the dishes on the shelf, and she remembered the second, dirtied set that she had hastily hidden from her father.

Phoebe got to her feet and shuffled to the shelf. She picked up the dirty dishes and turned them over slowly in the morning sunlight that streamed through the window. But if there was a clue hidden somewhere in the hardened food residue that coated the dishes and cutlery, Phoebe didn't see it. The only thing that stood out about them was the same thing that had alarmed her in the first place: the fact that there were two sets.