Jackson nodded in agreement.
"We have a proposal," Skye said, banging his fist lightly on the table. "Anybody else come up with something better?" He looked around the table, but no one spoke. "All right then. Let's meet at the stables in an hour. Pack your things, we're not staying."
The meeting was apparently adjourned, and Ashlyn excused herself from the table, astonished that she'd come up with an option that everyone had enthusiastically agreed with.
She retrieved her bags from her bedroom, checking twice to make sure that all her stanes were still in order, and wandered out to the livery, where Suki was waiting for her eagerly. The stables that Skye had mentioned were small, more like a shack with some paddocks attached, but there was a hitching post out front. Ashlyn draped Suki’s lead rope over the post while she worked on securing her saddlebags on the horse’s back.
It didn’t take long for Vargo to appear.
"Hey, beautiful," he said in his customary greeting.
"Hey, loser," she replied, not bothering to look at him.
Undeterred, he continued, "I liked you better with your hair down."
"Gee, sorry. Tough luck for you I never keep it that way."
He moved in front of her and began to stroke the mare‘s velvety nose. "Come on, Ashlyn. We're probably the only two people here that aren't practically antiques, and we kinda had some sparks back in the day. You telling me you're not the least bit interested?"
She turned to face Vargo, smiled sweetly at him. "Not in the least. I find you freckly and repulsive."
"Ha. Funny. Again with the redhead jokes."
"You know, Skye has freckles too," Ashlyn said, staring hard at her saddlebags as she struggled to reinforce a square knot with one hand. "On him they're pretty damn attractive."
"Yeah, he's real attractive with those freaky eyes. Next thing I know you'll be telling me how hot the vampire is."
She ignored the digs at both Skye and Drake, and replied stonily, "Well, at least Drake isn't some pervert who can't look any higher than my chest."
Vargo dragged his gaze upwards, cheeks reddening. "If you weren't glaring at me all the time, I might think about looking at your face more often."
"If you weren't hitting on me all the time, I might think of you as something like human," she shot back. "Now excuse me, but I've got better things to do than swap insults with a loser." She untied Suki from the hitching post and started leading her into the stable.
"Ouch. I'm real wounded here. Next time bring some updated material instead of grade-school stuff," he called after her.
Ashlyn slammed the stable door behind her, making the mare jump. "Jerk," she muttered. "Tell me something, Suki. Why is it that the only guys who are ever interested in me are losers? I don't understand it. I'm like a loser magnet." She sat down on an overturned bucket and blew out a breath.
Suki ignored the rant, nickering softly and touching noses with the black horse in the stall beside her. The sunlight streaming through the rafters sparkled off her flaxen mane, and Ashlyn reached up to run her fingers absently through the coarse strands.
The door to the stall holding the black horse opened suddenly, and Ashlyn glanced over, eyebrow quirking when she saw that it was Drake. Anyone else and she might have been embarrassed that he'd heard her talking to her horse, but the vampire probably hadn't been listening anyway.
"Hey," she said grumpily.
"Hello," he returned, running his hand over his gelding‘s neck. Ashlyn rolled her eyes. Honestly, she should have figured that he would have a black horse. If they came in blood-red he might have had a difficult time deciding.
The armored glove he wore shone tarnished silver. She found herself wondering if it was heavy for him. Probably not, what with his super-strength and all. This morning he looked passably normal- with no floor-length black coat, his plain black pants and shirt actually made him look pretty average.
She felt the same thickening of her throat that she'd felt with Drake three years ago, the not-knowing-what-to-say that really made her babble like a moron. It wasn't that she cared one way or the other what Drake thought about her- in the last year she'd managed to convince herself that he was pretty much repulsive and more than a little weird. But he had also been normal once, and in love once, and it was because of these things that he had been turned into a vampire against his will, as a means of separating him forever from the Angel he cared for. Add all that up and you had one definitively angst-ridden, deathly silent immortal type, and someone that a ditzy ninja had no idea whatsoever how to converse with.
"I was talking to Vargo about you," she offered, a little tartly.
He said nothing, and Ashlyn frowned again.
"What's your horse's name?" she asked, trying a different tactic.
"Name?" he repeated mildly.
Ashlyn's eyed widened. "You haven't named your horse? How do you call it? 'Here, horsey?' Good grief, that's lame. The poor thing probably thinks you don't even care about it."
The barn door opened. She turned to see Skye striding in, his sword strapped to his back, his dark glasses obscuring his eyes. He looked ready for war.
"Time to load up. Aaron’s already in the airship."
"Okay," said Ashlyn, hopping off the bucket. "Drake, I don't know where we're headed, but you better think up a name for your horse before we get there or I'm going to call it something really girly."
"Glad to know the Ash we all know and detest is back," Trace said, coming up behind Skye.
"Yeah well, it could be worse. I could be a Spartan," Ashlyn said affably as she led her horse out of the barn. Trace couldn't think fast enough to make a comeback before the other girl was gone.
Chapter 3
Flour Power
"What's the matter, sweetie? Not hungry?" Ashlyn cooed, holding out a tempting handful of fresh-cut hay to Suki. The chestnut mare cocked her head to the side and stared at Ashlyn, obviously still miffed about the loading argument they'd had only a few minutes before.
"Come on, Suki," Ashlyn pleaded, switching fluidly from Merchant Tongue to Toryn, which was the language she spoke most often to the mare. "I know I should have taught you to load into an airship a little sooner than today, but it's not like there's a bunch of airships just lying around for me to practice loading. And this isn't so bad, is it? Look at all the other horses that are here to keep you company."
As if she could understand Ashlyn's words, Suki glanced at the other horse in the stall with her- Aaron's mangy brown gelding, Tritan, who was snoozing beside her. Suki’s dark eyes blinked as she surveyed what was possibly the smelliest, most ancient animal known to man. Suki then gave her insipid human owner a pointed look.
Ashlyn sighed. "Okay, then. Have it your way."
She stepped out and slid the latch into place on Suki's stall door. As the airship slowly rose from the ground, Ashlyn remembered her tendency for motion sickness. Her stomach, in stark contradiction to the smooth ascent of the ship, plummeted ominously, and she squeezed her eyes shut, willing the rocking sensation to stop. The fingers of her hay-less hand clenched the edge of the door slats; tight enough to turn her knuckles white, tight enough to force slivers of the aging wood into her fingertips.
"I'll be fine," she said out loud. The tremble in her voice belied the brave words. She pried her fingers from the door and turned, managing only half a step before her legs buckled and she fell ungracefully to the floor in a tangle of limbs and fresh hay.
"Get a grip, Li," she muttered, clutching her stomach. No way was she going to get sick this time. The month she'd spent on the airship before had been downright nasty, but she was an adult now, almost nineteen years old and not about to embarrass herself by barfing all over the interior of Aaron's most prized possession.
Particularly not when Skye was in the room next door, waiting to see how much her fighting skills had changed in the past three years, if at all.
Ashlyn wasn't so sure herself. It was hard to see your own improvement w
hen you were fighting alone.
Slowly she climbed to her feet, noting a scrape on her knee with some irritation. She scooped up the smushed hay and tossed a clump of it into Suki's pen, but her aim was lousy. The hay scattered across Tritan’s head, tangling in his unkempt forelock. There was no response from the gelding. He was probably dead or something.
Ashlyn tottered away from the stalls, gaining only a small bit of confidence with every unsteady step. If she hadn't gotten sick already, chances were she probably wouldn't. The only serious issue she was having was the doorway- it seemed to be expanding, collapsing, and moving from side to side all at once.
"Focus, pipsqueak," Ashlyn said loudly, trying to force herself to regain all senses. It didn't help that the ship was still moving, throwing her off-balance even more. She thumped herself on the forehead with a knuckle, aiming for a pressure point.
Miraculously, it worked. Her world began to steady almost immediately.
Ashlyn stepped through the doorway, smiling at her success, and stopped when she came face-to-face with Skye, who was shirtless.
Man, have I been missing out with this whole reclusive warrior gig.
He quirked an eyebrow, a crooked smile creeping onto his lips. "What?"
It took Ashlyn a second to realize she had actually voiced her thoughts - in Toryn, thankfully. She switched to Merchant Tongue and said sheepishly, "Sorry, just thinking out loud. I'm not, uh, feeling great. I'd forgotten how much I don't like flying."
His curious expression turned concerned. "Are you up for this? We can always wait . . . "
"No, I'm fine." Or she would be, if she could keep from touching any part of his sculpted chest or well-muscled arms during their scuffle. "Are we fighting hand-to-hand or with weapons? I don't remember which one is required for the Leadership Duel."
"Without weapons, first. We'll look up Toryn customs when we reach Cosmea and figure out how you're going to be fighting Devlyn." He held out a hand, and Ashlyn reluctantly handed over her shuriken before unstrapping her sword and placing it on the table.
Skye set the hira shuriken down and turned to face her, clenching his fists together and bowing in traditional Toryn style. Ashlyn smiled and did the same.
"Okay, just some basic stuff right now. I'm going to come at you with my fists and I want you to block as best you can." Skye advanced before he had even finished the second sentence.
Ashlyn dodged his punches easily, sometimes throwing up her left arm to block the blows. When she realized that he was slowly backing her into a corner, she sidestepped underneath one of his jabs and shoved him forward against the wall, catching his arm and twisting it behind his back as he attempted to elbow her in the stomach.
"Hey," she said, happy with herself. "I guess I still got it, right?"
Skye laughed, and she was suddenly aware of the flex of his forearm against her wrist. She stepped backwards, releasing him and giving herself a mental kick in the pants. She really needed to get over these hormonal urges or she wasn't going to be able to focus at all.
"Not bad," he said, turning towards her again. "I could have taken you if I had attacked your weaker side, though. You seem more focused on using your left arm to fight and defend. What happens if your left side is incapacitated somehow?"
"Then I fight with my right," she replied, not sure that it was the truth. "I had an injury to my arm seven months ago. It just hasn't recovered yet. Not fully, anyway. It won't affect my fighting."
"Let me see," he said. He took her arm and ran his hand down her bicep.
"Ow," she muttered, more out of habit than anything.
Skye ignored her admission of pain and squeezed her upper arm gently, feeling the scarred muscles and abnormally thickened bone within. "It was a bad break," he observed.
"You don't have to tell me that. I was there," Ashlyn said fervently. “I did what I could with heal, but I wasn’t skilled enough to fix everything.” She could still remember the feeling of the dog’s fangs sinking into her skin, tearing at her flesh with an unnatural frenzy. She could actually conjure up the memory of the pain as if it were still happening. With other injuries she only remembered the before and after - with this one she had a front-row seat to view a close-up anytime she felt like it.
“I was never great with heal either,” Skye admitted, dropping her arm. “I was always scared I’d accidentally mend something that wasn’t broken.”
“Me, too. I don’t know many people who aren’t intimidated by that kind of magic- Drake and Aaron are pretty much it. And Jenn, of course.” Ashlyn regretted saying the Angel’s name the moment it left her lips. She watched as Skye’s face darkened.
“She was the most skilled healer I’ve ever seen,” he said at length, and his voice was so emotionless that it was almost brittle.
Ashlyn studied him for a long moment. It was impossible to ascertain any kind of emotion from Skye Damien’s obsidian eyes. With whatever process DEMON recruits were put through, every soldier emerged sporting a markedly changed appearance, with even the whites of their eyes completely obliterated by inky blackness. It didn’t unnerve Ashlyn anymore, but she often found it frustrating that she couldn’t read Skye’s emotions.
“Skye,” she said softly, knowing that she shouldn’t ask but unable to stop herself, “you weren’t actually in love with Jenn, were you?”
He laughed hoarsely, and glanced at her. “Why would you ask something like that, Ash?”
“Were you?” she pressed.
He shook his head and sighed, turning away. “No more than you were. But your brother didn’t ask you with his dying breath to protect her, either.”
Ashlyn chewed nervously on her lower lip. She’d known that, of course. Skye’s self-loathing stemmed solely from his shame at failing Jax. Still, Restlyn thought differently. “Skye,” Ashlyn said. “You know Restlyn thinks-“
“I know what Restlyn thinks,” he retorted sharply, turning back to face Ashlyn. “If you love your sister, you’ll tell her to move on. Whatever my feelings for Jenn were, I’m in no position to protect anyone else.”
“Restlyn doesn’t need your protection.”
“Everyone needs protection.”
Ashlyn tilted her head to the side. “Even you?”
Skye met her gaze for several moments before turning away.
Wordlessly, Ashlyn left the room, not bothering to pick up her sword and shuriken off the table.
Skye had joined forces with Restlyn to start FLD, shortly after Restlyn was Scorned by Ashlyn’s father and forced to leave Toryn. Skye and Restlyn had always been close friends, but somewhere along the way Restlyn had started feeling something more- something that Skye was clearly afraid to let himself reciprocate. Although Ashlyn had infinite respect for Skye as a friend and a leader, she felt like he could use some serious help in the romance department. Now, however, was not the time.
Ashlyn found Restlyn in the kitchen, deep in thought with her nose buried in a cookbook.
"Hi," Restlyn said without looking up. "How goes the training?"
"Good," Ashlyn said quietly. She sat down on a stool across the counter. "Skye says I need to focus on balancing myself out. Like, strengthening my weaker side so that my opponent can't catch me off-guard."
"I can give you some exercises for that," Restlyn said. She set the book down and rested her chin in the palm of her hand. "Your dad showed me how to build up the rest of my body to make up for the weakness in my left side, but also to strengthen that side in particular to ensure that I wouldn't be caught unawares, no matter how I was attacked."
Ashlyn's eyes were drawn to the thin, barely visible scar starting at Restlyn's left shoulder and disappearing into the neckline of her shirt. She knew that the injury had been nearly fatal. The other girl was lucky to even be alive - Lord Angelo’s legendary sword was so finely crafted that it could cut through layers of steel in a single slice. A human that was cut from shoulder to navel should, by all rights, die instantly. But by some miracle, Restlyn
had survived.
Ashlyn hadn't been there to see Restlyn's battle back when Lord Angelo had first taken over Cosmea. Restlyn didn’t talk about it much. But Ashlyn knew that her father had rescued the half-Toryn and successfully healed her before taking her in as his adopted daughter.
"You look so serious," Restlyn said in an amused tone. "What are you thinking about?"
Ashlyn looked up to see the the other girl's eyes upon her. In the fluorescent lights of the kitchen Restlyn’s eyes gleamed polished copper- a stunning mixture of Cosmean bronze and Toryn black.
"I'm just trying to remember the last time we were all together like this," Ashlyn lied. "Even Jackson is here. Hey, speaking of Jackson, when did he suddenly get all chummy with the Spartans? Last I knew we weren't even on speaking terms with them. And I was so fine with that."
Restlyn smiled. "The Spartans work for Jackson now. If it were up to me, we still wouldn't be on speaking terms with them. But Trace isn't so bad."
Ashlyn made a gagging noise. "Vargo gets on my last nerve." She stared at her distorted reflection in the metallic finish of the counter. “What’s up with his cigarettes? He’s always got one. I’ve even seen him light up, but he never smokes them.”
“Why don’t you ask him yourself?”
“You think I’d get a straight answer?”
Restlyn shrugged playfully. “Maybe.”
Ashlyn rolled her eyes. "Subject change. Why isn't Jackson dealing with this war on his own? Why is the rest of FLD here?"
"I think Jackson was most worried about becoming the next Lord Angelo," Restlyn said, shaking her head. "So he contacted me and Aik to form some kind of...I don't know..."
"War committee?" Ashlyn joked.
"Yeah, something like that. It seems strange to think of a wolf as the mayor of Cosmea, but I guess Aik does kind of have a say in things now."
"I know what you mean," Ashlyn said, nodding. "But he loves Cosmea. I bet he's a great mayor."
“I’m sure he is. I’m just a bartender, though- and I really think they only came to me because they knew I’d be able to find Skye. We don't see each other much, but he keeps in touch."
The Lady of Toryn Anthology (Lady of Toryn trilogy) Page 3