Lost & Found: A Silk & Steel Novella, #3.5

by Ariana Nash

  He wasn’t looking for Venali and certainly hadn’t been scanning the residents for any sign of the sentinel’s signature red hair. Trey had had other lovers during his time away. It wasn’t as though Venali had left the kind of impression that branded itself into Trey’s thoughts and kept him warm during the frigid winter treks.

  He wandered through Ashford and came upon the library, finding it was… a library, full of books and not Order assassins. As lovely as the books were, he’d been looking for music and company. Maybe Alador had put an end to the revelry?

  Disappointment clung to him as he returned to his room. There may have been a few nights during the past few months during which he’d imagined returning to Ashford and falling back into the atmosphere at the library, catching up with Kalie and Conor. Now that the library was gone, and he was alone, he wondered why he’d bothered returning at all. There were the messages he carried, of course, but he could have waited a few more weeks until the snow thawed.

  He sat on the bed and looked out the window, watching snowflakes flurry against the glass. There was a coldness inside him, too, one he tried to bury, but with every trek, it was becoming more and more difficult to ignore. He’d needed the library to still be there, needed the company it had promised. Nowhere else on all his travels had called to his soul like the library had.

  He refused to believe the assassins didn’t gather anywhere. They needed to be among their own, like he clearly needed it, too, if just for a little while before moving on again.

  As night fell, he wandered Ashford’s many linked walkways and corridors, admiring the humans’ colored strings and bows. Catching sight of a pair of assassins—only Order assassins wore the long-distance glare of someone who’d spent their every breath thinking about the best way to kill—Trey followed them deeper into Ashford’s older sections, where the walls closed and oil lamps fought off the dark. The music found him first, and he grinned. He followed the sound down some steps.

  A guard at the doorway ahead blocked the way. “Blade?”

  Trey dropped his hand to where he normally carried his sword, but he’d left it behind in his room. “I don’t have it on me.”

  “No blade, no entry.”

  “I was here last year.”

  The guard narrowed his eyes.

  “You were in the library then? Kalie… Is Kalie here? Tell her I’m Trey.” The guard wasn’t budging. “C’mon, I need this,” he admitted.

  “If you need it so bad, why haven’t you been back since the library?”

  “I travel. I’m a messenger.”

  “Then you’re not of the Order.” The guard moved to shut the door and shut Trey out.

  Trey wedged his foot in the gap. “I was.”

  There was another name he could drop, but the thought of mentioning Venali had Trey’s insides explicitly knotting. “Would you just go ask Kalie if she knows me?”

  “Kalie isn’t here,” the brute grumbled.

  Three more elves approached behind Trey, eyeing him warily. He stepped aside, letting them pass, and the guard did the same, clearly recognizing them. Trey got a glimpse of the crowd, the colored lights and shifting shadows, and felt his heart slip. Alumn, he needed to be in there.

  “Go back and get your blade,” the guard said with a sigh. “I can’t let you in without one.”

  “You let them in.”

  “I know them. I don’t know you.”

  “Look… Would you… Is Venali in there?”

  The guard smiled and looked over Trey again. “You don’t look his type.”

  “I’m not,” Trey replied sharply. “He knows who I am. Is he in there?”

  “If I let everyone in who says they know Venali, I’d have half of damn Ashford in here. You’re not getting in without a blade, and the more you piss me off, the less likely I am to ever let you in. If you’ve even got a blade, which I’m starting to doubt, go get it.”

  He should, and it would solve this, but Trey squared up to the guard instead. “I cut down dragons to help save Ashford and this is how you thank me?”

  “A true Assassin of the Order doesn’t need thanks.” The guard kicked Trey’s foot clear and slammed the door shut.

  “Fuck!”

  He should have handled it better, and now he was shut out of the only place he’d wanted to return to in months, looking like some Order reject who’d just tried to talk his way into a club he didn’t belong in. And maybe he didn’t belong? Most Order assassins were trained from the time they could walk. Trey had just fallen into it like he fell into everything in life.

  “Shit, shit, shit…” He paced the narrow corridor.

  “Having some problems?” a deep, rough voice enquired, the same voice Trey wished he didn’t have to hear over and over in his dreams.

  He looked up the steps and saw Venali standing at the top, looking down on him as though Trey were a bug to be squashed beneath his fine leather boots. Boots that went all the way up to his knees. He’d cut off his long locks to jaw-length, making his face seem even more severe, although, at this moment, he appeared to be half smiling, softening the tough sentinel. He’d caught Trey in need of assistance. Again.

  “I don’t have my blade,” Trey said briskly. Venali started down the steps, alone. No entourage, not this time. Dressed to kill meant a whole new thing around him. Black trousers hugged a narrow waist and a purple shirt lay open at the cuffs and collar, advertising the kissable, golden skin beneath. Trey had wondered what he’d feel like seeing Venali again, whether his reaction the first time had been due to too much wine. But as Venali brushed past and Trey recalled exactly where he’d gripped his waist, lust spilled easily into Trey’s veins all over again. Alumn, the desire hadn’t faded. He still wanted Venali, and it wasn’t some passing urge. The sudden flush of need made Trey swallow hard and steer his thoughts far from how Venali’s trousers hugged the curves of his ass.

  Venali rapped on the door. The guard opened it, straightened at the sight of Venali, and noticing Trey, he swallowed.

  “He’s with me,” Venali said, already stepping inside.

  And just like that, Trey was back inside the warmth and wonder of whatever this place was called. Bodies swayed to the music, pressed close in the subdued light. Someone nudged him in the shoulder, turning him around.

  “An assassin is never without his blade,” Venali whispered against Trey’s ear, the implication clear. Trey wasn’t assassin enough to remember his blade. The asshole just had to get a dig in. Trey turned back, expecting to find Venali close, but he’d vanished among the crowd. For an attention whore, he sure knew how to disappear.

  Kalie’s immediately familiar presence drew his eye. She’d graduated to pouring a number of drinks from different bottles, grinning from ear to ear at her customers. Nobody seemed to pay or trade goods for the drinks, just like before. Maybe Alador had something to do with that.

  “Kalie…”

  “Ah, Trey!” She planted a drink in his hand.

  “At least you remember me.”

  “I could never forget a face as pretty as yours, my darling.”

  They caught up, spoke some more about traveling and how well she was keeping before Trey asked, “Is Conor around?”

  “Conor?” Confusion briefly dislodged her smile. “Oh, Conor, sure… I mean, he doesn’t come around much now. Venali and he… They have a thing.”

  A thing.

  Right.

  A thing without Trey.

  That was okay. Honestly, what had he been expecting? It had only been a quick fuck, and Trey had left them, making it clear it had meant nothing more.

  “I’m sure he’d love to know you’re here, though,” Kalie said, raising her voice over the sound of the rowdy crowd. “Ask Venali where he is.”

  “Yeah, maybe no.” He downed the drink in one gulp, and Kalie hastily poured him another.

  She asked about messaging and any gossip from the neighboring villages. The more Trey talked and the more cups of wine he fin
ished off, the more the weight of traveling lifted off his back and the more he felt like maybe he was coming home. If just for a little while.

  The evening wore on into the dead of night, but the musicians kept right on playing and the drinks kept flowing. Trey had found himself part of a small, friendly group, and was regaling them of the time he’d tricked a dragon into an elf trap when Kalie touched a hand to his shoulder, snapping him out of the conversation.

  “Can I borrow you… real quick?”

  Her smile had vanished and her laughing eyes had sobered. Something was wrong.

  “Sure.” He set his drink down. “What’s going on?”

  “I just need you to come with me.” She took his hand and wove through the crowd, through a back door, and into a shadowy corridor. “Alador can’t know.” And with that, she shoved open a door and pulled Trey inside a small, dimly lit room. One filthy lamp spluttered. The air was tinged with something sweet and potent. Discarded bottles lay about the floor. And an unconscious male lay sprawled in the chair.

  Venali.

  “Is he…” All right? Sick? Dead?

  Kalie pulled on Venali’s arm, trying to shift his weight forward. The sentinel’s head lolled. “C’mon, you big, pretty bastard, time to go…”

  Venali’s lips moved. He managed to lift a hand and appeared to stroke at Kalie’s cheek, but then the hand flopped back down again.

  “That’s enough of that,” she gently scolded. “I brought a friend.” She glowered and jerked her chin at Trey. “We’re going to get you back to your place.” She lowered her voice, “Don’t just stand there staring, help me.”

  It took Trey a moment to register the last words were meant for him. He scooped Venali’s other arm around his shoulders and helped heave the sentinel out of the chair.

  “Not through the club. Out the door, turn left and left again. There are some stairs. I’ll show you the way from there.”

  Venali, with his long limbs and unhelpful dead weight, took some shifting and balancing to get up the stairs and along the dark corridor to his room. Trey propped him against the wall outside his room, ignoring his murmuring, while Kalie dug inside his pocket for a key. “I can’t find it.”

  Voices traveled up the corridor.

  “Shit, someone’s coming… He can’t be seen like this.”

  Trey plastered himself to Venali, grabbed his hair, held him up, and kissed him with enough passion behind it to keep others glancing away. Venali tasted like wine and something else, something sharper with a sweet kick.

  “Hm…” Venali moaned, chasing the kiss as Trey pulled back, but his eyes were unfocused, his mind in some far-away drunken place.

  “You owe me, both of you. Hold him.” Trey handed Venali’s slumped weight over to Kalie and kicked the lock, popping the door open.

  Trey grabbed an arm, and together with Kalie, managed to half carry, half drag Venali into the bedroom. “Why am I here and not Conor?”

  “Conor and him… it’s complicated.”

  Of course it fucking was.

  Trey eased Venali onto the bed, making sure to prop his head up should he vomit any of the copious amounts of alcohol he’d clearly been drinking.

  “I gotta get back…” Kalie headed out the bedroom door.

  “You can’t leave him alone like this.” Trey followed her out of the room.

  “He’s not alone. He’s got you.”

  “Me?” Shit, the last thing he wanted to be doing was babysitting an unconscious Venali. “And if Conor shows up?”

  “Great.” She grinned. “But he won’t. I’ll come by in the morning.” She pulled the door closed behind her. Some part of it fell off and clanged to the floor.

  Trey planted both hands on his hips and sighed at the empty living area. Why him? Why not one of Venali’s other friends, someone who actually cared?

  Returning to the bedroom, Trey lingered in the doorway.

  Venali lay sprawled on his back, one arm thrown off the bed, his chest rising and falling steadily. Asleep, and without the snarling, he almost looked like someone Trey wouldn’t mind spending more time with. Still impossibly imposing, even passed out cold.

  Dragging a chair to the bed, Trey dumped himself into it and glowered. Venali still wore the gloves. Always with the gloves. He was tempted to sneak a look beneath them, but unlike Venali, he wasn’t a prick.

  Two nights he had in Ashford, and this was how he got to spend his first, staring at Venali’s unconscious body.

  Trey dropped his head back, “Alumn, save me from the damaged ones.”

  Trey woke stiff from hours propped in a chair and not nearly hungover enough. The bed was empty. His heart tripped, thoughts careening off into the worst-case scenario that saw Venali dead on the floor somewhere, until he heard water running in a side room. Probably a shower.

  Finally, he could leave.

  Stretching, he winced around the aches and returned to the ridiculously large living area. He’d been right the first time, the view of the meadow through all the windows was stunning.

  “Tea?”

  Trey jumped and frowned. Venali had padded in barefoot, his body clad in loose cotton pants and a buttonless shirt. His wet hair was ruffled and messy about his face. He showed no signs of being too wasted to drag his ass home, and in fact, looked as fresh as spring morning. The way his clothing hugged all the right places, he clearly wasn’t wearing underwear. Not that Trey cared, or was looking.

  “I need to get cleaned up,” Trey ground out, sounding like he was the one who’d had the rough night.

  “Use my shower.”

  It wasn’t a question. Trey’s instincts bristled. He and Kalie had carried Sentinel Venali home and made it so nobody knew he was a washed-up mess of an assassin, and Trey didn’t even get a glance, a thank-you, or even a smile. In fact, he was too busy making his own tea to even look up.

  The gloves were missing.

  As Trey moved closer to the cupboards and countertops where Venali was focused on his hot water and tea, he watched the male’s pale hands move, seeing the unmistakable ripple of burned skin stretched tight over the backs of both hands. Dragonfire had scarred him, there was no mistaking it.

  Venali reached above his head and took a second cup from the cupboard, then poured hot water over a tea strainer, clearly choosing to ignore Trey’s protests.

  “Maybe I will take you up on that shower…”

  Venali didn’t respond. He reminded Trey of a cat his ma had had when Trey had been very small. The damn thing ignored him day and night unless it wanted something. Then it had vanished one day and never came back and nobody cared but Trey.

  He showered quickly, using Venali’s lemony soap, dried off, and emerged to find a pile of folded clothes waiting for him. Wearing Venali’s clothes seemed like a step too far. Trey dressed in his own clothes from last night and returned to the living area to find Venali at the window, drinking his tea. His hair had dried, turning wavy, inviting Trey’s fingers to run through it. That thought caught Trey off guard and set his feet in motion again. He picked up his tea, wrapped his fingers around the hot mug, and took a sip. Honey and lemon, with a hint of ginger root. It was good and hit the empty spot leftover from last night’s lack of sleep.

  “Thank you,” Venali said.

  Trey blinked, leaned against the counter, and admired the sun-draped enigma that was Venali. “You’re welcome.”

  The quiet rolled on, indicating no further explanation was coming, and Trey supposed he wasn’t exactly entitled to one. It wasn’t as though they were friends.

  The door dumped open, squeaking on its bent hinges. “Good, you’re up. Hey, Trey.” Kalie strode in, heading straight for Venali.

  “Hey.” Trey took another sip and watched her over the rim of the mug.

  “Venali, you’re lucky we weren’t seen. Alador—”

  “Doesn’t need to know.”

  She stopped a few strides behind him. “You gotta sort your shit out. If Trey hadn’t b
een there, Alador would know by now, and…”

  “And what?” Venali turned.

  “I know what it feels like,” she sighed. “We all know. If it happens again, I’m going to have to tell him.”

  Venali’s sharp laugh held no humor. “You really don’t.”

  “You’re supposed to be our sentinel. Fuck, we’re supposed to look up to you. I can’t keep scraping your ass off the floor. I can’t watch you do this to yourself.”

  Venali’s cheek fluttered. He looked down. “I’m fine.”

  “Fine?” She laughed and threw a pleading look at Trey. “None of us are fine. We lost Shannon last night.”

  Venali’s head snapped up. “How?”

  “Same as the others.”

  Okay, this was different. Both of their stances had hardened, shutting down or shutting off. Trey set his tea aside.

  “Alador knows?” Venali asked, approaching Kalie.

  “Of course.”

  “Shit, Kalie…” He reached for her, but she jerked back.

  “You’re supposed to be on this, Venali!”

  “I am—”

  “You’re not.”

  Anger flared in the male’s eyes. “Short of watching every Order assassin every night, what would you have me do?” he demanded, voice raised.

  “Something! Anything. Besides passing out while good people kill themselves.”

  Trey stilled, gripping the edge of the counter. The quiet ticked on, the words falling hard.

  “This is not my doing, Kalie.” Venali’s jaw hardened. “I am not responsible for every Order life. I’m barely responsible for my own.”

  “I know.” She sighed. “I know, I just… I knew Shannon. I saw her almost every night. We trained together.” She sniffed and threw her shoulders back. “It was more than that. We aren’t supposed to have relationships. We knew that, but… Venali… Why?!”

  Venali swooped in and bundled her in his arms, murmuring words Trey didn’t catch. She sobbed against him, and Trey’s heart felt that pain too. Assassins weren’t supposed to die now. But clearly, they continued to.

  He bowed his head, looking away from the private moment, giving them space.