The Lady of Toryn Anthology (Lady of Toryn trilogy)

by Charity Santiago

  "I once knew a girl," he said, his voice a perfect monotone, "who was like a dying rainbow. Her colors were incomparable, her countenance a whirlwind of brilliance."

  Ashlyn resisted the urge to pull away from his touch. If this was another story about his dear long lost Loritta or the perpetually bratty Trace, she really wasn't in the mood to hear it.

  Three years ago, she would have immediately yanked away and jumped up, jabbering something about Drake's selfishness and his inability to let things go or think about anyone but himself.

  Today, Ashlyn sighed inwardly and resigned herself to a drab sob-fest about one of two women she hated for the pure fact that they were both incredible and mature and…well, not her.

  Drake went on, oblivious to Ashlyn's inner turmoil, "As much as she shone, however, she faded into nothingness, at times so quickly that I was unsure whether she had existed at all."

  He paused, their breathing and the rain on the roof the only sounds in the room as he gently extracted a splinter from between her fingers. "Years passed, and she became a memory to me. It was a long while before I realized how difficult it must have been for her, attempting to find a balance- somewhere from oblivion to her own unmatched radiance."

  His hand covered hers, emerald light gleaming from between their interlinked fingers as her flesh knitted beneath his touch.

  "I never thought I would see her again," Drake continued. His lips were close to her ear, stirring the damp strands of her hair with his breath. "But she came to me one night, three years later, out of the rain, as much a walking contradiction as she'd ever been."

  Ashlyn's throat tightened.

  He was talking about her, sweet Drago, he was saying all that stuff about her. She'd spent a month with Drake before, in close proximity, and he'd never said this much during those entire four weeks, much less in a single conversation.

  And what he was saying now…? If she hadn't already been pretty much collapsed into his arms, it would have happened, and probably with a bunch of drama and swoony fluttering, too.

  "What seems impossible," Drake said, his fingers brushing across her palm with obvious reluctance as he let go of her hand, "becomes possible in the smallest, most trivial moments. The girl that I remember has become a woman I cannot forget. Her strength has united a kingdom once thought lost. Her passion has awakened the hearts of heroes unsure of their purpose."

  "Her stupidity caused the war in the first place," Ashlyn said uncomfortably, folding her arms across her chest. Instead of utter elation at his words, she felt like a child receiving a precious gift that was completely undeserved, and as much as she wanted to let him console her, there was no way to deny the truth of the situation.

  When she met Drake's gaze, his blood-red eyes were solemn, and he raised a hand to cup her face, brushing his thumb across her cheek to remove the last traces of her tears. "You can run from your destiny, Ashlyn, but it will find you regardless," he said.

  "I was alone for three years," she told him. I am not leaning into his hand. I AM NOT leaning into his hand. "I'm not the same person anymore. Toryn isn't my destiny anymore. I'll just screw it up, like I have everything else."

  "I was alone for almost twenty years," he replied. "You dragged me out of the coffin nonetheless."

  "That's different." Don't do this to me, Drake. Don't make me fall for you all over again.

  His eyebrows quirked, obviously in disagreement.

  Ashlyn frowned, trying hard to focus. "I only asked you to start thinking of yourself as a man, Drake, instead of a monster. That's hardly the same thing."

  "I'm asking you to think of yourself as a leader," he said. "You've spent so long running from responsibility that you think yourself incapable of fulfilling your birthright."

  "We haven't seen each other in three years. You don't know what I'm capable of- I don't even know what I'm capable of."

  He grabbed her hand, abruptly, and brought it up to his chest. Through the cloth of his shirt, his skin was warm to the touch, and Ashlyn let him press her hand against the solidness of his shoulder, confused as to what he was doing.

  "This," he said, his voice low, "is where I was struck by Devlyn's sword."

  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 agree
d 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.

  Running had always been a release for her when she had too much pent-up energy. Over the last few weeks it had become her lifeline. When she pushed herself almost to the breaking point, all the awful thoughts and realizations, all the guilt and festering anger vanished for just a moment.

  For a second or two, the invisible, crushing weight of shame and responsibility was lifted from her shoulders, and Ashlyn was free.

  Her breath came out in short puffs of steam, the cold air turning her sweat frosty as Ashlyn plowed forward, legs pumping, fingers curved in a claw-like fashion, as though she could pull herself along using the cold air as leverage.

  Her sneakers pounded on the rocky ground leading up Na Michico. The smooth soles slipped a little on the stones and loose dirt, but an entire childhood of scrambling haphazardly up the mountain had left Ashlyn too confident to think about slowing down now. Her lungs were clenching, begging for air, and finally she skidded to a halt, teetering unsteadily for just a second before she started walking, gulping in deep, deliberate breaths as she tried to slow her pounding heart.

  Ashlyn wasn't stupid. She knew exactly what she was doing- trying to run away from the issues unfurling back in Toryn, pretty much literally. Every day, she stood at the edge of Na Michico, looking longingly down at the ocean below and wanting so badly to jump. Would she survive? No one ever had, at least as far as she knew, but the possibility of getting away from everything would almost be worth the risk of death.