“What painting?”
“The one in the hallway to the left of the big staircase. On the second floor. It’s hanging…I think it’s right before the third doorway on the left. It’s really pretty, very abstract, just a bunch of different shades of red, all swirly and overlapping. Every time I look at it, I see something new that I didn’t notice before.” She rubbed a hand across her eyes, and smiled at Drake. “So how are you feeling? You must be tired.”
“I…” Drake began, then trailed off, looking uncharacteristically unsure of himself. He cleared his throat. “I came here to speak with you.”
“About what?” Ashlyn closed the book in front of her and propped her chin on the heel of her hand.
“About Trace,” he clarified, and Ashlyn’s good mood dissipated. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to know the story behind Drake’s relationship with the tiny blond Spartan.
“Sure, go on,” she said.
Drake fixed her with a look. “It’s certainly not something I ever thought I’d have to explain, but let me begin by saying that Trace and I are friends. Nothing more.”
Ashlyn opened her mouth, then closed it, debating about whether she should speak her mind or not. “You don’t really have friends, though,” she said after a moment. “Other than me, of course.”
He looked bemused. “What makes you say that?”
“Because you don’t. You’re antisocial and...what is that word Trace always calls Ellis? Laconic. That’s it. You’re laconic. You don’t talk to anyone and you keep to yourself.”
“I talk to you,” he pointed out.
“Yeah, now.”
“It’s different with you, Ashlyn. You’ve always been my opposite in every way. Imagine living my life for decades and then being confronted with you. If you light a lamp in a dark room, it takes some time for your eyes to adjust.”
“But you warmed up to Trace pretty darn fast,” Ashlyn said, knowing she sounded hopelessly bitter and unable to stop herself.
“What grounds have I ever given you to assume that I am anything but friends with Trace?” he asked, clearly exasperated.
“I saw the two of you- a year ago. At North Camp Inn!”
“I meet with the Spartans once a year,” Drake said. “It’s a condition of my agreement with Jackson. Vampires are dangerous, and he and I are both aware of the risks associated with my…condition. I meet with the Spartans- usually just one of them- to reassure them that I still have resist and that I’m not a danger to the Free Lands. They report back to Jackson. I met with Trace in North Camp last year because she couldn’t make it to Storim.”
“But when I saw you with her, you were smiling!”
“Am I not permitted to smile?”
“Not at Trace,” Ashlyn mumbled, for once fully aware of how immature she sounded.
They both were sitting back in their chairs now, arms folded across their chests, glaring at each other.
“Why is it that I tried for so long to get you to come out of your shell, to talk to me, to smile at me, to act like you were alive again, and it didn’t happen until I was completely out of the picture?” she demanded. “It makes me feel so lousy. Do you know how hard I was crushing on you the entire time we were tracking Lord Angelo?”
“Yes.”
“And you completely ignored me!”
Drake looked affronted. “You were fifteen.”
“You’re freaking ancient! Who the hell cares?”
He cracked a grin at that, conceding her point silently.
“Anyway, I’m not fifteen anymore.”
He raised an eyebrow. “I’m well aware of that.”
She mimicked the movement, quirking her eyebrow back at him.
He sighed, and it was a long-suffering sound. Poor beleaguered vampire. “You complicate things for me.”
“I know.” They’d had a similar conversation by the lake. “Why?”
“Surely you have to see why, Ashlyn. Trace is…very…safe. We are friends. There is no complication.”
“I’m your friend,” she said, wounded.
“Yes, but...” He paused, and smiled, a little self-consciously. “I want more.”
With great effort, Ashlyn somehow refrained from jumping up and screaming ecstatically at the top of her lungs.
“Oh?” she managed.
Drake looked distinctly uncomfortable after that admission, and after a moment he stood up, his boots scraping against the concrete floor.
“You’re leaving?” Ashlyn said, disappointed. She’d been hoping for some mad, passionate declaration of love, but she supposed that wasn’t Drake’s style.
He nodded.
The silence, by now a familiarity to Ashlyn when Drake was around, stretched on for several heartbeats. She stared hard at the book on the table, determined not to appear overzealous. Whatever was happening with Drake, she didn’t want to crowd him.
“If for some reason I’m not at the designated meeting place to greet the Spartans, Jackson has given them orders to find me immediately,” he said at length.
She looked up, a little surprised that he’d gone back to the topic of the Spartans. “To do what?”
He turned to face her. “To ascertain whether or not I still have resist.” His eyes were encouraging, urging her to keep pressing.
Ashlyn bit her lower lip, feeling suddenly a little apprehensive about where this was going. “And if you don’t have it?”
“They have instructions to attempt to use a second resist stane to subdue me…or kill me if the attempt is unsuccessful.”
He was so casual about the subject that Ashlyn almost rolled her eyes. It had been so long since he’d been doom-and-gloom man that she’d nearly forgotten about that side of his personality. “I didn’t even know there was a second resist.”
Drake nodded. “There are probably more somewhere, but only two that we know of. The Spartans have always held the second one, for safekeeping.” He walked around the table, unhurriedly, kneeling beside Ashlyn as she turned in her chair to face him.
“Give me your hand,” he said softly, and as she held out her fingers to him, he gently applied pressure, sliding his thumb up from her wrist to the heel of her hand so that her palm was turned up.
He laid a necklace against her fingers. It was a black cord, similar to the one he wore, with a yellow stane set in a gold backing. Ashlyn’s eyes flicked to the first resist stane, still on its cord around Drake’s neck, and realized that the one in her hand must be the second stane, the one that the Spartans usually kept for him.
As resist touched her skin, Ashlyn felt warmth spreading through her hand, creeping up her arm and threading its way through her body.
She met Drake’s eyes, acutely aware of the significance of this gift.
“It’s yours,” he said.
He stood and walked out, and a few seconds later she heard the clomping of his boots on the steps leading up to the cobblestone street.
Smiling, Ashlyn lifted the necklace and tied the cord around her neck, trying to slow the frantic beating of her hopelessly romantic heart.
She picked up the book, and decided to go find Restlyn. Now was definitely an appropriate time for girl talk.
The sun was bright when she ascended the stairs, emerging from the small library located beneath the sacred gong. She’d never had much reason to go into the library before, but then she’d never been Lady of Toryn before, either, and now she was glad that the library was of some use to her research.
As she headed towards her father’s house, she saw Skye, deep in conversation with a group of Toryn soldiers. She hadn’t really spoken to him since the day they’d attacked Kou’s army and rescued her dad- there hadn’t been time. But she nodded to him now, thinking that it might be smart to touch base with him over what their plans were.
Skye nodded back, and said a few words to the soldiers, who nodded and began to talk amongst themselves.
“Where are you headed?” Skye asked as he drew closer.
He offered her his arm jokingly, and she grinned and smacked him. “None of that, mister!”
He chuckled, falling into step beside her. “Did you get any sleep last night?”
“Oh yeah.” She rubbed the sore muscles in her neck. “One of these days I’m actually going to make it to a bed instead of just conking out wherever I sit down.”
“I don’t think anybody’s been getting regular sleep since this whole thing started,” Skye replied. “But it’s almost over.”
“I guess.” Ashlyn grimaced and scuffed the cobblestones with the toe of her sneaker. “I wish Tag and Kou hadn’t escaped. With another one of my shuriken, no less. Jerks.”
“We’ll find them,” Skye said. “And the rest of them, too. Only a handful of Kou’s ninjas got away. Far too few to cause any real damage. And now that they don’t have your father to drain, they won’t be able to use shift for much longer.”
“Ugh. Don’t say ‘drain.’ Just the thought of it makes me sick. I think I could happily murder Kou and not feel an ounce of remorse,” she said grumpily. “That man is pure evil.”
“I’m not arguing.” Skye fell silent for a moment before continuing, “How are you doing?”
“What do you mean? How am I feeling? How am I holding up? I’m a little sore, to tell you the truth. I haven’t done this much ass-kicking since the last time I took up with FLD. Gods, there were a lot fewer aches and pains back then. I feel so old.”
“Oh, shut up.”
Ashlyn giggled.
“I actually meant- how are you feeling about being Lady of Toryn?” Skye said, glancing over at her. His tone was quizzical. “I know you weren’t real keen on it before.”
“Mmm.” She wasn’t real keen on it now either, but at least she wasn’t terrified at the thought of taking on a leadership role anymore. “Well, I’m not Lady of Toryn yet. There’s still that whole coronation ceremony, and all. But I know what you meant, and yeah, I guess I’m doing okay. Having you around makes it a lot easier.” She glanced up at him, feeling a rush of gratitude towards the swordsman. It wasn’t often that you found friends like Skye.
He hooked one arm around her neck and ruffled her hair. “Anytime, kid. Oh- and I’m sorry about your haircut.”
“I almost forgot!” she shrieked, shoving him away. “You jerk! What the heck was that about? Cutting my hair? You didn’t even get it straight!”
“Forgive me for saving your skinny butt from a vampire! Next time I’ll call the barber first.”
“You better!” They were in front of her dad’s house now, and Ashlyn turned to Skye, trying not to smile but of course failing hopelessly. “I’ll see you around, Damien,” she said, walking up the front steps. “Thanks for the pep talk.”
“Hang on a second.”
She glanced back at him. “Yes, oh wise leader?”
“You’re the leader now,” he said seriously, and grinned when she rolled her eyes. “No, really. I know you’re scared about the whole Lady of Toryn thing, but you’ll be fine. Just trust me. This is your chance to be a leader, Ash. It’s your turn to be a hero and do the right thing. Don’t let it pass by. Don’t live your life with regret.”
The self-loathing that tinged his voice was evident. Ashlyn looked away. “Yeah,” she said quietly. “I’ll remember that. Thanks, Skye.”
“Anytime.”
She stood at the door for a long time, listening to Skye’s boots crunch on the gravel as he walked away and wondering if he was ever going to take his own advice and let go of Jenn’s death.
“Restlyn?” she said, knocking gently on the doorframe. Ordinarily she would have barged right in like she owned the place, but considering Restlyn had been acting as interim Lady of Toryn for a few days now, Ashlyn figured the least she could do was be polite.
“Come on in,” Restlyn yelled, and Ashlyn rolled her eyes. So much for formalities.
She pulled the door open, smiling as she noted once again that it was one of the only eastern-style doors in Toryn, on swinging hinges instead of the traditional sliding tracks. Her father was so progressive, in his own subtle way.
“I’m in the study,” Restlyn called.
Ashlyn detoured around the koi pond and down the hall to her father’s study, smiling as she stepped into the room and found Restlyn nearly hidden behind several large piles of scrolls and stacks of books.
“This looks just like it did when I was little,” Ashlyn said, running her fingers fondly over the leather binding of the nearest tome. “Back when Dad used to read all the time. It was hard to get him out in the sunlight. He was so consumed by traditions and etiquette and…and then…”
She trailed off, biting her lip. And then the war had happened, and Restlyn had come to live with them, and her mother had died. Her father had stopped reading after that.
“It’s been interesting to see how many of the smaller details your dad has kept in place,” Restlyn said, glancing up. Her chocolate hair was falling in her eyes, and she pushed it back with one hand, grinning, looking fresh-faced, pretty, and happier than Ashlyn had seen her in a long time.
“Did you notice that there is a cherry blossom tree situated northeast of every house in town?” the older girl continued, pointing at a map spread on the floor beside her. “It’s ancient Toryn tradition, as a way to honor Drago. I never even noticed.”
“Me neither.” Ashlyn crossed her ankles, dropping gracelessly to the floor in front of Restlyn. “But honestly, Dad had no issues with the lesser lords turning Toryn into a tourist trap and sacrificing whatever dignity our culture might have had, so I can’t see why he would care about any of the smaller details.”
“To each his own, I guess,” Restlyn said, shrugging. “I wouldn’t have done it myself, but maybe your father thought it was the only way.”
“Maybe.” Ashlyn propped her elbow on her knee and leaned her chin on her hand, craning her neck to try to see what was in the book Restlyn had in her lap. “Everybody says you’ve been doing a great job running the city by yourself.”
“Me? No. It’s been running itself. I’ve just been supervising,” Restlyn replied, but she was smiling. “You know my mom did this too- in Cosmea, before she died. She enjoyed working alongside the people rather than just giving them orders, and they loved her for it. I’ve been thinking about her every day that I’ve been here. She set such a great example on how to be one of the people, not just above the people. I can’t imagine just sitting on your throne, telling people what to do. It would drive me crazy!”
“I can’t even imagine being in charge,” Ashlyn said ruefully, scratching her elbow. She paused, remembering how she’d given orders to the rest of FLD that day in Heaven, just before Kou’s army had attacked. “Well, not permanently, anyway. It’s a little different when it’s spur of the moment.”
Restlyn leaned forward and patted Ashlyn’s shoulder, a silly gesture that made them both smile. “Don’t worry, Ash. This job is pretty cushy. You’re going to be a great Lady of Toryn. And just think- you get to wear the ceremonial kimono and everything on the day of your coronation.”
They both groaned in unison, looking over at the ceremonial kimono on display in a glass case in the corner. Not only was the thing huge- much larger than whatever size Ashlyn actually wore- but it was bright red, decorated with garish orange flowers and green birds. It was supposedly a huge honor to wear it during the coronation ceremony, but Ashlyn was kind of hoping the people of Toryn would be lenient enough to forget the ceremonial kimono and just let her wear her shorts.
“So,” Restlyn spoke up, breaking into Ashlyn’s thoughts, “tell me what’s going on with you.” She arched one perfect eyebrow. “There’s something between you and Drake. I know it.”
Ashlyn couldn’t stop the blush that rose up her neck, setting her cheeks on fire. “That obvious, huh,” she said weakly, and put a hand to her face, trying to cool it.
Restlyn g
asped, bouncing in place as she clapped her hands delightedly. “Tell me what happened!” she exclaimed. “You look so guilty!”
The events of the last several weeks flitted through Ashlyn’s mind, including that day in her father’s home, when Drake had comforted her while she was grieving for Soryl. Where should she start? When should she start? This felt like something that had been bubbling inside her for weeks, months, years- she didn’t even know where to begin.
Suddenly Restlyn was leaning forward, arms going round Ashlyn as she pulled the younger ninja into a hug. “I’m so happy for you,” she said simply, sniffling into Ashlyn’s shoulder. It was surprising. There was no condemnation in Restlyn’s tone, no judgment or reprimand. She was offering congratulations, with no strings attached.
It certainly wasn’t what Ashlyn had expected from the first person to find out about her relationship with Drake.
Despite her own excitement and happiness, Ashlyn felt her heart break a little for the other girl. How long had Restlyn been desperately in love with Skye? It had been obvious in the first few days they’d traveled together, more than three years ago. How long would it last? Would Skye ever return the feelings?
She hugged Restlyn back fiercely, wishing with all her might that her best friend would someday find happiness, with or without Skye.
After a long embrace, Restlyn drew back, and her face was wet with tears. “Goodness, I’m sorry,” she said, dabbing at her eyes with the corner of her sleeve in an uncharacteristic move. “I’ve been so over-emotional lately. I think it’s just being back in Toryn. I really never thought I’d see the island again, so being here is...unexpected.” She suddenly looked a little wistful. “It’s a shame that everyone we knew as kids has moved on. I don’t think any of my friends stayed in Toryn.”
“Nobody wants to stick around in a dying city,” Ashlyn said slowly, remembering Endro’s abandoned streets. She had no desire to be Lady of Toryn, but she couldn’t stand by and let the city of her ancestors crumble to the ground. She sighed and rubbed a hand across her eyes. “We’re leaving soon to go visit my father in North Camp. I wanted to stop by and make sure you were handling everything okay- but it looks like you’ve got it all under control.”
The Lady of Toryn Anthology (Lady of Toryn trilogy) Page 33