The Lady of Toryn Anthology (Lady of Toryn trilogy) (47 page)

Drake shook his head. “He’ll be
asleep for at least another hour. He lost a great deal of blood. He did…request
your presence several times last night. I think perhaps you should see him when
he wakes.” He shifted in his chair, leaning forward and looking curiously at
the book that lay open in front of Ashlyn.

“Oh.” She shrugged, lifting the
book so he could see its title. “I didn’t think I’d be able to sleep…guess I
was wrong about that…so I came here to do some research on Toryn customs. I’m
still looking to see what the rules are for the Elder Heir selecting a
successor.”

The vampire’s eyebrows knitted.
“Still running from your destiny?”

No,
just trying to take my mind off Vargo.
“Not really,” she said. “I think I’m pretty much
resigned to it now. But I don’t want a situation like this- this war- to start
all over again if something should happen to me down the line. I’ll need to
choose someone I trust to take over if I happen to die in, I don’t know, a
freak accident or something. I was thinking Skye, but I’m…well, I’m having a
hard time finding anything about non-Toryns assuming leadership.” She wiped at
her cheek with one hand, smiling humorlessly. “It’d probably help some if I
didn’t fall asleep while reading. It’s like grade school all over again.”

Drake smiled back at her, and
something in his expression was almost tender. “You’re entitled to some rest,
Ashlyn.”

“You’re one to talk. When was the
last time you slept?” She knew the answer to that already. He’d lain beside her
in the cave, holding her as she slept. The memory brought a blush to her
cheeks.

“You were talking in your sleep,”
Drake said, ignoring her question completely.

“Was I? I was dreaming.” She
yawned, stretching her hands above her head. “I keep thinking about this
painting I saw in the Eastern City mansion. It’s been years since I even looked
at it, but for some reason I can’t get it out of my head.”

“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.

“My dad’s house, to see Restlyn.
Care to walk with me?”

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.”