The Lady of Toryn Anthology (Lady of Toryn trilogy) (29 page)

After a
moment, he slid her hand lower, until it was resting directly above his heart.
Ashlyn paused, entranced by the lack of a pulse beneath her fingers, the scent
of him filling her senses and enveloping her like the rain against the roof.

"This,"
Drake said. "This is where I would have been struck, if you had not
deflected the blow."

She met
his gaze, breathing so hard that she felt light-headed. His eyes bored into
hers, piercing her straight to her soul.

"I
know what you are capable of, Ashlyn," he said. "I know better than
anyone."

He
picked her up again, placing her easily on the bench, and stood, releasing her
hand as he did so. He stared at her for a long moment, just long enough for
Ashlyn to understand that he wasn't running away, but giving her the space they
both needed. Then he turned and walked from the room, not bothering to shut the
door behind him.

Ashlyn sat there, her fingers tingling, as she watched the door
alternately slam shut and swing open, mercilessly buffeted by the wind and the
rain.

Chapter 15

Devastation

Ashlyn
awoke to the feeling of hands on her shoulders, shaking her none too gently,
and opened her eyes to inky blackness. "What? What?" she said
groggily, swiping half-heartedly at the hand on her right shoulder.
"What's going on?"

"It's
me," Restlyn whispered, and the floorboards creaked beneath her as she
shifted her weight back. "I need to talk to you."

Ashlyn
rolled over and groped around in the dark for the lamp beside her mat.
"Gosh, Restlyn, don't wake me up like that," she muttered. "If I
hadn't been having this great dream, I probably would have socked you or
something."

Soft
lamplight flooded the room, and Ashlyn squeezed her eyes shut. "I take
that back, I might sock you anyway."

"What
were you dreaming about?" Restlyn asked curiously.

Ashlyn
sat up, eyes still closed, and rubbed her forehead. "Believe me, you don't
want to know." Heck,
she
didn't want to know. If she was going to
spend the rest of her life dreaming about Drake Lockhart every night, she
wasn't sure if she was ever going to be able to look him in the face again
without turning a very unflattering shade of crimson. The things she was
dreaming about were...well, pretty much unmentionable most of the time.

But
honestly! This was totally frustrating and unfamiliar territory for her. Ashlyn
liked to think that she'd experienced a number of significant,
once-in-a-lifetime events in her eighteen years, not the least of which was
actually being a part of the group responsible for saving the world from Lord
Angelo. There were a few other occurrences she was particularly proud of, too-
delivering the deathblow to the general of the DEMON army in the North Triangle
three years ago…successfully parachuting in and not totally biffing it when
they were battling Lord Angelo...and now, experiencing an actual moment of a
genuine emotional connection with someone of the opposite sex.

And not
just any person of the opposite sex...
Drake Lockhart.

Was it
even possible that Drake felt anything more than friendship for her? Ashlyn
didn't know and she was almost afraid to ask. After the events three years
prior, when he'd pretty much abandoned her in favor of Trace, Ashlyn had sworn
never to get close to Drake again. But now…she just wasn't sure anymore. Maybe
she was imagining things. Maybe the tender moment they'd shared was only sexy
from her perspective. Maybe he was just being a friend.

Maybe
in the end, he'd walk away just like he had before.

Ashlyn
opened her eyes, not wanting to think about it anymore, and blinked Restlyn
into focus.

"Whoa!"
she exclaimed. "What- I mean, wow! Your hair!"

Restlyn
smiled and brushed a strand of chocolate-colored hair out of her eyes. It was
her natural color again- no longer a sad re-creation of Jenn’s lighter locks.
"Do you like it?" Restlyn asked. "I had an epiphany tonight and
I knew I had to change it before I lost my nerve."

"You
cut and dyed your hair in the middle of the night?" Ashlyn said, and
rubbed furiously at her eyes, trying to chase away the last remnants of sleep.
"Must have been some epiphany."

"It
was." Restlyn paused, then shifted so she was sitting cross-legged on the
floor. "It just hit me all of a sudden. I mean, here you are, you were
gone for three years but when you came back you jumped right back into things.
You may have had a few bumps along the way, but ultimately you're strong enough
to move on, and you're doing it. Everyone knows you could have just refused to
do anything to help us out and ran away that first night, but you didn't. You
stuck with it and now you're actually leading your people as Lady of
Toryn."

"Well,
all that just kind of happened," Ashlyn said uncomfortably. "I don't
think I had anything to do with it, really."

"No,
you did. You refused to stay the same desperate, hopeless, pitiful sack of
flesh you'd been for your entire life, waiting around and praying for something
that wasn't going to come."

"What?
Hey, wait a minute-"

"Well,
I'm not doing it anymore!" Restlyn pounded her fist on the floor,
rust-colored eyes sparking. "I'm not waiting for Skye anymore. I'm not the
same girl I was three years ago, Ash. I love him, but I'm done waiting for him.
I'm not going to turn into Jenn in the hopes that he finally takes notice of
me. I'm not."

The
older girl looked so mad that Ashlyn had to smile. "So you decided to cut
your hair. And dye it."

"Yes."
Restlyn ran a hand over her hair, which stopped just short of her shoulders.
"I wanted something so far removed that there was no chance in the world
that he would look at me and mistake me for Jenn."

"Good
for you," Ashlyn said. "Is that the only reason you woke me up?"

"Well...yeah."

Ashlyn
groaned. "Restlyn, I was in the middle of a really great dream. Next time
you have an epiphany, you think it could wait till daylight at least?"

Restlyn
didn't answer, looking pensive. Ashlyn stared at her, bleary-eyed, for what
seemed like forever, until it became apparent that Restlyn wasn’t finished
talking. "Okay, I'm sorry,” Ashlyn said, rubbing her eyes. “I really am
happy you had your epiphany. It's just...I don't know, Restlyn. So much is
going on right now, I almost feel like thinking about, you know, love is...sort
of like cheating. Wouldn't it be? Wouldn't it be cheating my people to think
about romance right now? Not to judge you or anything, but I’m supposed to be
some kind of leader. It feels selfish to focus on anything to do with my love
life right this second."

"I
don't think you can schedule time for romance," Restlyn replied. She
traced a pattern on the floor with her fingernails, propping her chin on the
fist of her other hand. "The night before we went into the North Triangle,
Ashlyn, when Skye told us all to live like it was our last night..."

She
trailed off, swallowing hard, and then continued, "I didn't want to go
anywhere else. I just wanted to be with Skye. I just wanted...I wanted him to
know how much he meant to me. But I didn't make that last move, I didn't push
it any further than I knew he was comfortable with. And every day, for the last
three years, every day I regret not chancing it, not telling him that I loved
him. Maybe that would have been the turning point. Maybe that would have made
him realize who I was and what was right in front of him instead of spending
the next three years pining for Jenn."

Ashlyn
felt her heart twist for her friend, who clearly had no idea that Skye’s damage
went much further than anything to do with Jenn. "Yeah," she said.
"If there's one thing Jenn wouldn't want, it's for you and Skye to be
miserable because he's pining over her death and you're pining for him.
Restlyn, why don't you just tell him how you feel? Men are so freaking
oblivious
that sometimes girls have to
make the first move."

The
older girl grinned ruefully, straightening up and shaking her head a little so
that her newly short hair flounced about her face. "You know what it's like
to be shy about your feelings."

"Well,
yes, but I'm eighteen and things are confusing for me right now," Ashlyn
answered, thinking about Vargo and Drake. "I'll get it figured out
eventually, but not in the middle of a war against my-“ Her voice cracked, and
she swallowed hard before finishing, “My father.” Even when she’d sat down to
tell FLD, Kou had had to step in and finish for her. It was still difficult for
her to say it out loud- to admit that she was at war with her dad.

Restlyn's
smile vanished. "I'm so sorry." She reached out to squeeze Ashlyn's
fingers. "I can't pretend to know what you're going through, but I want
you to know that I'm here to listen if you want to talk. Things have got to be
tough and you do such an amazing job keeping it together. Really, it's a lot to
ask of anybody, and even more to ask from someone who didn't really want to be
Lady of Toryn in the first place."

"Oh,
don't worry, the minute this is over I'm dumping the responsibility back on
Kou," Ashlyn said, realizing it for the first time as she spoke. "I
don't want to be tied down here, and I definitely don't want to be permanently
responsible for an entire city of people. Way too much pressure." She
stifled a yawn, and glanced out the window. "I've still got an hour or so
to get some sleep, do you mind if we finish this in the morning?"

"No,
not at all," Restlyn said. "I'm sorry I woke you."

"No,
it's fine. I really do like your hair." As she spoke, Ashlyn's hand went
to her own hair, which seemed like one big gnarled mat from tossing and turning
in her sleep. She frowned, wondering if maybe she should take a tip from
Restlyn and cut the whole mess off. Hmm. Something to think about.

As
Restlyn settled into her mat on the other side of the room, Ashlyn turned off
the lamp and laid back, letting her eyes adjust to the darkness again.

She was
leaving after this. That pretty much put a lid on the whole Drake and Vargo
infatuation issue. Whatever she was feeling, it didn't matter because it
wouldn't last. She wasn't meant to stay in one place forever. She was a
wanderer, it was her destiny to be a wanderer, and it would be stupid to assume
that wandering came with any romantic twists on the side.

Maybe Restlyn's epiphany was worthwhile after
all,
Ashlyn thought grumpily.
It pretty much killed any hope I have for a
love life.
She sighed, willing herself to go back to sleep, and hoping that
she wouldn't dream about Drake Lockhart.

She
didn't know how long she lay there, trying to quiet her raucous mind, before
the first strains of a gray dawn began to filter around the screen that
separated her sleeping area from the main room. Her thoughts turned to her
father then, and the pain was the same sharp, stabbing ache within her, fierce
and furious enough that she had to blink away tears.

Finally
she gave up on sleep and got up, digging around in her dresser drawers for a
good five minutes before accepting that nothing new had found its way in there
since the last time she'd looked. She pulled on a loose-fitting shirt and a
pair of baggy pants that cinched at the waist with a drawstring, smiling
humorlessly at the way the pant legs pooled around her feet. Some of the
village women had been kind enough to give her some clothes, but she had been
too distracted to try anything on, or even thank them properly for their
generosity.

She
went outside without a jacket, and rolled up the legs of her pants so they
wouldn't trip her. The guards were posted at the walls, but the rest of Toryn
was silent and still, the empty bridges and walkways eerily quiet in the early
morning mist. Ominous thunderclouds hung overhead, threatening to blot out any
semblance of sunlight.

Ashlyn
stretched idly, eyes lingering on the giant gate at the front of the city.
There had been no further attacks since the day Soryl had died, but the Toryn
army had been vigilant, watching around the clock to make sure that they
weren't caught unawares. Ashlyn had never been good at the waiting game, but
this- sitting around, twiddling her thumbs and trying not to think about Drake-
was enough to send her off the deep end. She stopped in every day to check on
the progress that the lab was making, but so far nothing had turned up.

Aaron
had gone to pick Sara up immediately after Soryl had passed away. Skye and
Ashlyn had both agreed that it would be better not to use a Toryn surgeon or
scientist to do the tests, and Sara had specialized in blood work before she’d
met Aaron.

Those
strange scars on Soryl's arms still bothered Ashlyn, and Sara as well, who was
running tests on the samples they'd drawn from his body.

Ashlyn
started jogging off towards Na Michico, breathing in through her nose and out
through her mouth, just like she'd been taught when she was a kid. Wooden slats
creaked under her feet as she crossed the bridge, the only sound outside of her
own breathing.

She
hadn't made it to the top of the mountain yet, but every day she pushed herself
farther, unsure of what her limits were after so many years of being away from
the thin Toryn air.