“So…you’re not the Elder Heir?” he said, his eyes registering total disbelief.
Ashlyn shook her head again. Her entire body felt so heavy, so weighed down, that even that simple gesture took monumental effort. “I’m not the Elder Heir. I’m just a…an illegitimate commoner.” She cracked a half-grin, trying to lighten the sting of her own words.
“Oh, Ash.” He closed the distance between them and pulled her tightly to him. More grateful for the sympathy than she could express, she hugged him back, her fingers scraping against his bandages through his thin white shirt.
“That sucks,” he said into her hair.
“I know,” she said, her voice muffled against his chest. “You can’t call me princess anymore.”
“Yeah, right- I will call you princess until the day I die,” he replied. “And sweetheart. And for special occasions, my little lotus.”
She groaned, and put a hand against his shoulder, extracting herself from his arms. “Okay, moment ruined.”
“Sorry,” he said, grinning briefly, but then his expression turned serious. “I never know how to handle serious situations. I really mean it, though…that sucks.”
“Tell me about it.” She started down the path again, Vargo walking beside her. “But Aik had a really good point. He and I- and now you- are the only ones who know about this. He thinks we should keep it a secret. I should ascend the pagoda anyway and get Toryn back under control.”
“I hate to say it, but he’s right. The last thing the Toryn people need right now is to hear that you’re not the Elder Heir after all.”
“That’s what I said. Well, except for the whole Restlyn possibility. That’s why Aik is looking through the public records. If Restlyn really is the Elder Heir, she should be Lady of Toryn- not me.”
Vargo nodded slowly. “I can’t say I like it. But I can’t say anything against Restlyn. She’s done a hell of a job in the interim. Like we said before, though, she might not be your sister at all. I mean, it lines up, but it’s still just a possibility at this point.”
“And if she’s not my sister, I guess I’ll keep my mouth shut, ascend the pagoda and…” Ashlyn paused as a young mother pushing her baby in a cart approached from the opposite direction, offering a smile at the twosome as they crossed paths. “…And lie to my people. For the rest of my life.”
“You’d be following in your father’s footsteps,” Vargo observed candidly. “He lied to everyone- even you.”
“He tried to tell me, before he died,” Ashlyn said. “He knew I didn’t feel ready for leadership. He said there were other options, but then he was too tired to keep talking, and I feel asleep beside him…” And then she’d awoken to find Kou standing over her, ready to stab her through with her own bo shuriken. Ashlyn shook her head, and changed the subject. “Aik said that my dad was really heartbroken when G, the chief’s daughter, wouldn’t go to Toryn with him. After Chief Redhorse died, she decided to stay here and take over as chief herself.”
“Couldn’t they have just done it long-distance?”
“I think my dad wanted to. It sounded like G made it a problem. In the entry where my dad talked about marrying my mom, he said that G had made it clear she was moving on. She’d already remarried and her new husband adopted my sister. I guess Cosmeans can sever marriage ties, so it was probably no big deal for her.”
“That’s total crap,” Vargo said heatedly. “No willing father should ever be forced out of his child’s life. Think about it. If G had just let your dad have a relationship with his daughter, maybe she’d be dealing with this whole mess instead of you.”
“Maybe I wouldn’t have even been born,” Ashlyn said, feeling more depressed by the moment. “Gosh, Vargo, I know it sounds stupid, but I wish I’d gotten to know my dad better while he was alive. I wasted so much time thinking he was a jerk for turning Toryn into a tourist trap, but I never considered that he was a lot like me when he was younger.”
“How?”
“He had dreams, and he didn’t want to be Lord of Toryn. And I think it’s pretty incredible that he fell in love so easily, like there wasn’t anything to be scared of. Don’t you ever wonder what that would be like?” She glanced over at Vargo, and was surprised to see that he was staring straight at her, his brilliant green eyes eyes darkening.
“No,” he said. “I don’t.”
Ashlyn flushed, and looked away. There was a bench beside the path, just a few steps away, and she moved to sit down, cursing her own stupidity for asking such a painfully obvious question.
Vargo didn’t sit down, instead turning away, folding his arms across his chest. The sunlight glinted off his spiky auburn hair, making the stark white of his shirt stand out against the red backdrop of Cosmea’s cliffs and mountains.
“Do you think your dad ever loved your mom?” he asked, and his voice was so soft that Ashlyn almost missed it.
Tearing her attention away from Vargo, she thought back to when she was a child. Her mother had died when she was almost six, shortly after Restlyn had come to live with them. Restlyn’s arrival in Toryn and Susyn’s death had happened within a few weeks of each other. Ashlyn had always assumed that her father’s raging grief had been a result of Susyn’s death, but now that she considered it, she couldn’t remember a time when her father had ever really been happy. His personality had darkened considerably after Restlyn came into the picture. Was that because G had died?
“I don’t think so,” Ashlyn muttered. “All these years, I thought he did…but I only saw what I wanted to see. He was never happy with my mom. She must have died a little inside every day, loving him hopelessly but never getting anything back.” She covered her mouth with one hand, trying not to cry.
“She chose that life for herself,” Vargo said. “Who knows, maybe if she’d removed herself from the equation, she would have gone on to find love with someone else. Maybe your dad would have returned to Cosmea after all. But once he married your mom, once he got caught up in the lie, they both gave up any chance of true happiness.”
“I guess,” Ashlyn responded. A flash of anger flared inside her, unbidden, and she looked up at Vargo. “I’m sure she tried, but she couldn’t force him to love her. You can’t force love.”
“No, you can’t.”
Ashlyn felt a chill run through her as the sun disappeared behind the clouds, plunging them into shadow. Vargo turned towards her, and for an eternal moment his gaze was locked on hers, his eyes sparking with emotion.
Without speaking, he walked to her and held out his hand, pulling her to her feet when she threaded her fingers through his.
He tucked a jagged strand of hair behind her ear, his hand resting easily against her neck, the other hand still holding hers tightly. He was so close that she could have stood on tiptoe and touched noses with him. Ashlyn waited silently, unsure of what he was doing or how to respond.
Vargo sighed, and leaned his forehead against hers, his breath warm on her skin. Ashlyn felt the familiar electricity of his touch, and didn’t fight it, closing her eyes as warmth rushed over her.
“I’m sorry, Ash,” Vargo whispered.
She was so entranced by his spell that his words hardly registered. “Sorry…for what?” she murmured.
His hand moved, tipping her chin up as he drew back. Ashlyn opened her eyes and found herself sucked into his emerald gaze, helpless to fight it.
“For trying to force you to love me,” he said.
Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes, and Ashlyn opened her mouth to reassure him that it was fine, he hadn’t forced her into anything, he’d saved her life and she considered him one of her best friends- but he cut off that line of thought when he leaned down and kissed her.
Their first kiss, weeks ago at the inn at Industry, had felt like a sweet deception, wonderful while it lasted but ultimately insincere. The second time Vargo kissed her, Ashlyn had been reeling from Drake’s rejection, and she’d poured her frustration and agony into that kiss. Vargo had
bore it admirably, pulling her close to him but never pushing for more than she was ready to give. She had felt protected…and soothed, somehow.
This kiss felt like goodbye.
The stubble of his unshaved jaw scraped against her cheeks as his mouth moved over hers, his hands cupping her face gently, reverently. Ashlyn felt wetness against her eyelids, and wondered briefly if the rain had started in earnest before she realized that those were tears. But she wasn’t crying.
When they broke apart, she didn’t open her eyes, simply tried to catch her breath as Vargo leaned his forehead against hers once more. His breathing was ragged.
After a moment, he released her, leaving Ashlyn standing there, cold and alone. She lowered her chin, wiping Vargo’s tears from her cheeks with a hand, and tried to collect her thoughts. The clouds finally opened up and it began to drizzle- seemingly appropriate weather for the mood.
When she looked up, he was already halfway back to the inn, his stride deliberate, his head down.
Ashlyn sat down on the bench again, not trusting her shaky legs to hold her up any longer. He was leaving, she knew. Something about her father’s story had struck a chord within him, and he was no longer willing to wait around for her to realize that she loved him.
She did love him, but not in that way- not in the way he wanted. It wouldn’t be enough for him, eventually. He would live like her mother had, dying inside every day, hoping against hope that something would change between them.
He deserved better than that, and Ashlyn did, too.
She sniffled, pushing her wet hair out of her face, and stood, resuming her trek on the well-worn path as she tucked her father’s journals underneath her shirt.
The path curved around behind the market, taking her in the opposite direction from Vargo.
Chapter Five
In the Grey Hour
Ashlyn’s father made an appearance in her dreams that night.
In this particular dream, she was seated on the edge of Na Michico, looking down at the waves crashing below and swinging her feet carelessly.
“Still the daredevil, I see,” Lord Li said, sitting down beside her.
Ashlyn, far from being surprised at his presence, surveyed his appearance critically. His dark hair was smoothed into a low ponytail, all traces of silver gone from the raven locks. He wore a simple white tunic and was barefoot. She found herself smiling at the tan lines on his feet from his sandals. He’d always eschewed socks and worn his sandals with bare feet.
“I get it from you, you know,” she replied.
“I would have preferred you inherited your mother’s docile spirit,” he said with a sigh, shaking his head.
Ashlyn frowned, sticking her feet out in front of her and wiggling her toes. “So are you just a figment of my imagination, or are you haunting my dreams from beyond the grave?” she asked. “Should I be creeped out?”
“Should you?” He leaned back on his hands and offered a smile.
“I don’t know.” The wind whipped at her hair, bringing with it the sweet scent of cherry blossoms. Ashlyn closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. “Cherry blossoms always remind me of Toryn- of you,” she said.
“They were your mother’s favorite. After her passing, I tried to keep them in the house whenever possible.”
Ashlyn cracked an eye open. “Why?” She regarded him with a grumpy one-eyed stare. “You didn’t love her.”
“I cared for her deeply,” he said, wounded. “She was a worthy companion and a wonderful mother.”
“Worthy? How? She was pathetic enough to agree to go along with your…your lies. Weak enough to agree to a fake marriage in exchange for any part of you she could get her hands on. A stronger woman wouldn’t settle for anything less than your heart.”
“I left my heart in Cosmea,” he said slowly, sadly. “I would not have been able to gift it to Susyn, had I wished to.”
“Then it’s as much your fault as hers. Why’d you do it, Dad? Was it really that big a deal to produce an heir? You selected Devlyn easily enough. A fake marriage seems like a lot of effort with very little pay-off.”
“I will admit that you were somewhat more spirited than I would have wished in the Elder Heir.” Lord Li grinned, looking younger and more carefree than she could ever remember seeing him. “But I suppose I should have expected no less from a Li.”
Ashlyn scoffed. “Did you forget? I’m not a Li. I’m illegitimate.”
“You are my daughter,” he said firmly. “We share the same blood. You were born a Li and you will remain a Li. The legalities change nothing.”
“Tell that to the Toryn people.” She groaned suddenly and slapped a hand to her forehead. “No, don’t tell them that. I forgot, you know all about living a lie, don’t you?”
“It was not easy,” he admitted, surprising her. “I would not advise it- especially not for you, Ashlyn. I would hate to see your spirit broken by the burden of deception.”
“You haven’t given me much of a choice, Dad,” she said, exasperated.
“You always have a choice.”
His words echoed in Ashlyn’s ears as she opened her eyes, staring unseeing into the darkness of her room at the inn.
At length, she sat up, wearily smoothing down her hair as she swung her legs over the side of the bed. She reached under her pillow and pulled out Drake’s letter, brushing her fingers across the folded square of paper as if seeking comfort from the creased pages.
She didn’t know what these dreams about her dad meant, and she wasn’t entirely sure that she wasn’t just conjuring up her memories of Lord Li so she could have an imaginary friend to bounce her thoughts off of. It was ridiculous. No way was her dad’s ghost visiting her dreams to make small talk.
The corridor was shadowed and silent when she opened her bedroom door. The only light in the hall was coming from a small candle set into the wall by a doorway. Ashlyn stared dully at the door, remembering that Vargo had been staying there and recalling one particular morning when he’d walked out with his short buttoned lopsidedly. She’d grinned and pointed it out to him, then fixed it herself when he had feigned ignorance.
Her throat tightened. Vargo had become an exceptional friend to her since the beginning of this adventure- the closest friend she’d ever had, in fact. And now he was gone.
She padded down the hallway and pushed open the door to his room, surprised to see that the room had not been cleaned yet. The curtains had been left open overnight. In the faint light of early morning, she could see that the bed was unmade and several crumpled up papers littered the floor around the wastebasket. Perhaps Vargo hadn’t even bothered to check out when he’d departed. Ashlyn lit the lamp beside the bed and sat down on the rumpled sheets, feeling lonelier than ever as she looked around the empty room.
Drake’s letter was in her hands, offering small comfort. Vargo was her best friend, but he was gone. Drake was the man she loved, who had finally admitted he loved her in return, but his letter said he was leaving Toryn- and she had no idea when she’d see him again.
She had no one to talk to, no one to lean on. The worst of it was that all of it had turned out to be a lie. Her upbringing, her birthright, and everything she’d fought for belonged to someone else. This was so much worse than when Kou had deceived her into believing that he was her brother, born of an extramarital affair, because this time Ashlyn was the illegitimate child, and her only options were to walk away from it all, leaving the pagoda to crumble under the wrath of the Toryn people, or lie to everyone she loved to save her kingdom.
She’d never felt so completely lost in her entire life. For once, the cause of her troubles was nothing she had brought on herself, and that made her predicament more frightening. At least when Kou had been the bad guy, she’d had someone to aspire to beat the crap out of. This time it was all politics and deception, and Ashlyn had never been very good at any of that.
Ashlyn drew her legs up onto the bed, curling them up beside her as she leaned against Va
rgo’s pillow. She trailed her fingers across the scar where her clan tattoo used to be. What had gone through her father’s head when he’d held down his infant daughter and allowed the artist to permanently mark her skin with the sign of the house of Li? Had his mind wandered to his older daughter, wondering what she was doing…wishing she was there instead?
With that thought, Ashlyn shook her head, suddenly disgusted with her own self-pity. It was a terrible situation, but she wasn’t making it any better by torturing herself like this.
A sound outside the door caught her attention, and she looked up just as Aik’s inquisitive face peeked around the doorjamb. The handle of a slim black case was in his mouth.
Ashlyn smiled, deliberately pushing her dark thoughts to the back of her mind. “Hi.”
He set the case down carefully. “Hello,” he said. “Is this a bad time?”
“Of course not. Come in.”
He stepped inside the room, glancing around with obvious confusion. “Isn’t this…?
“Vargo’s room,” she finished up for him. “He left yesterday.”
“Left?” The wolf’s ears perked up in alarm. “Why? Have the Spartans found anything in the Caverns? What about the messenger he sent to Civitas?”
“I don’t know.” Ashlyn felt a surge of guilt. She’d been wallowing in her own self-pity while Aik was putting his own concerns about the Spirit of the Caverns aside to help her. “Don’t worry,” she said quickly. “I’ll talk to the Spartans first thing this morning. The messenger won’t be back till tonight at the earliest, but I’m sure he’ll have the stane with him. Don’t worry, Aik. I’m not going to let anything happen to Cosmea.”
He gave her a skeptical look that said he wasn’t buying her authoritative tone, but apparently decided to go along with it. “I found Restlyn’s birth certificate,” he said, and leaned down to pick up the case again. Ashlyn watched as he padded closer, set the case down again, and opened the latch with a claw. She had always marveled at how he managed to manipulate objects with just his paws, never bothering to complain about his lack of opposable thumbs.
The Lady of Toryn Anthology (Lady of Toryn trilogy) Page 44
