Return (Lady of Toryn trilogy)

by Charity Santiago

  "How did you know I owned the weapon shop?" he asked.

  "Word gets around. Well, actually, it gets around by way of Restlyn, but I'm sure anyone else would have told me."

  She remembered the cold, rainy night that she and the others had faced Lord Angelo and defeated him, the painfully void expression on Drake's face when he had discovered that Lord Angelo had been responsible for Loritta’s demise. She recalled in explicit detail the agony that rang in his voice when he realized out loud that someone else should have suffered the twenty years of nightmares.

  Funny, how things worked out. She'd spent their entire journey trying to get through to Drake, and it had taken a revelation like that to give him a personality that was something like human. And maybe Trace to draw him out of his shell. Damn it. Stop thinking about it, Ash.

  "I'm glad you didn't go back to the mansion in the Eastern Canyon," Ashlyn said absently, toying with the end of her braid as she stared into the fire. "For years I had all sorts of stupid visions of you sleeping in that nasty coffin, gathering dust and cobwebs and gods know what else. I finally went there to make sure, just for some freaking peace of mind." She frowned as she encountered a particularly nasty snarl in her hair, and pulled her fingers through it, annoyed for the first time at the lack of care that she showed the thick locks.

  "Restlyn asked for assistance with the tavern," Drake said, volunteering information that Ashlyn hadn't asked for. "It seemed natural to stay afterwards." He raised his head, eyes narrowing. "Is that the man who spoke to you at the inn?"

  She didn't answer, busily remembering their parting after the fall of Lord Angelo and the destruction of the final power plant that had been draining magic from the sun. It had been uneventful, less dramatic than she would have liked. She'd grinned up at Drake, saucily asking if he had any stanes he was willing to part with. He'd pressed a theft stane into her hand, turned and walked away as if they had nothing at all to say to each other after living in close quarters, fighting side by side and nearly dying together for more than a month.

  When she'd looked down at the stane, which transformed its wielder into a master pickpocket, she had burst out laughing. Drake may not have cracked jokes very often, but when he did it was well worth the wait.

  If only she’d told him how she felt after defeating Lord Angelo. Instead she'd had to wait to see him at North Camp Inn…ridiculously happy without her.

  "Ashlyn?" he questioned when she stayed silent.

  "Huh?" She glanced at him, frowned as she followed his gaze to the Cosmea entrance. A man stood at the head of the stairs, staring at her with an unreadable expression on his face. "Oh, Gods. Yeah, I guess it is. I didn't think he'd be hanging out to keep an eye on me, for crying out loud."

  "Is he a friend of yours?" The real question, Who is he, was underlying Drake's words, his manner of speaking bordering - but not quite - a monotone.

  Yeah, some friend. She didn't even know his name. "Just a loyal fan. You know, thieves like me, we're famous."

  Pointed look with those ruby eyes. "Toryn ladies like you can be famous as well."

  "Well, yeah." Ashlyn shifted uncomfortably, glaring daggers at the stupid man for putting her through this conversation, for making her lie to Drake. Drake, of all people! The guy who really didn't give a crap about anything, and she was fibbing to him. "I just hope he doesn't figure it out. But what can I say to him? 'Hi, glad to meetcha, don't ask me to tell you my name.' It's hard to be subtle about that sort of thing."

  "Yes, I would imagine so." He looked keenly at the man for a moment longer. "Perhaps I could explain to him that's it's . . . impolite to intrude on private conversations."

  Yeah, that'd be just super. Ashlyn searched for something to say in response, and fell back on her inherent ditziness to save her.

  "Aww, Drake! We're having a private conversation?" she blurted out desperately, choosing the only thing that she knew would scare the crap out of him. "That's one step up on the ladder of love. Next thing you know, I'll have you dancing with me at the Festival tonight." She put a hand on his arm, batting her eyelashes dramatically. "You will dance with me, won't you?"

  He didn't react as violently as she'd expected. If Ashlyn had asked Drake to dance eight years ago, she would have gambled all her stanes that he'd leap to his feet and hightail it outta there faster than a top-ranked racehorse down the home stretch at the Silverbell Theme Park. Ashlyn would have been left in his dust, giggling stupidly and wondering how the hell he'd managed to move so fast without tripping over his pointy-toed silver boots, and wasn't that glove real heavy anyway, how could he run at all with that thing hanging on his arm?

  But apparently Ashlyn wasn't the only one who had changed since the defeat of Lord Angelo.

  This new, upgraded Drake met Ashlyn's eyes, showing absolutely no signs of hightailing anywhere, and she felt her breath catch in her throat as he stared at her. When she managed to suck in air again, she felt like she was out of control, breathing hard like she'd just jumped off Na Michico and swam to Cosmea. Drake's eyes were crimson like blood in the firelight and sunlight combined, only not half as disgusting, not even disgusting, and holy crap was she getting all hot and bothered over Drake Lockhart?

  She almost whispered his name, hand moving reflexively closer to his on the red earth beside her, but caught herself, suddenly realizing what she was doing.

  Hastily, she tore her gaze from the red-eyed gunslinger's, staring instead at the flame in front of her, heart pounding noisily. "Oh, I forgot," she said dully, and even to her own ears her voice sounded strained, "you don't dance with anyone but Trace, do you."

  Drake was silent for a moment longer, and then he stood. When Drake stood up it was never like the way anyone else stood up - Ashlyn clambered, Sky climbed, Restlyn rose gracefully. With Drake, one second he was on the ground, and the next he was standing, so smoothly and seamlessly that she was never sure if she'd seen him get up in the first place.

  "If you'll excuse me," he said quietly.

  Ashlyn nodded, not trusting herself to speak, listening to the muffled clicking of his boots against the dirt as he walked away from the Eternal Flame.

  Ugh.

  That was an experience worth forgetting! Scrambling to her feet, Ashlyn stomped over to the man who had forced her to sacrifice her dignity and hit on Drake.

  "What the hell are you doing?" she hissed in Toryn, shoving him up against one of the beams that supported the Cosmea sign. "Nice attempt at subtlety, moron. Why don't you just hang a sign around your neck that says, 'Spy for Toryn'? That is, if you don't think you're getting the point across well enough!" She eyed him suspiciously. "What's your name anyway, and what are you doing here?"

  "I am Lysato Shak of the clan Shak, and I am ensuring your safety, Lady Li," he answered, averting his eyes from her angry glare. "Assassins are everywhere."

  "I'm a ninja! Don't you think I can defend myself against a measly assassin or two?"

  "Of course, Lady, but - "

  "But nothing! If you hang around like this for the next three days, I'm going to have one heck of a time explaining it to the rest of FLD! Now scram!"

  "Actually," a voice came from behind her, "I'd rather you stick around for a while."

  Ashlyn turned on her heel and found herself staring at a black-vested chest. Gulping, she raised her eyes to see Skye staring down at her, his expression pinched and angry.

  "I can explain," she said quickly, forgetting to switch to Merchant Tongue.

  "You will. What happens in three days?" he asked, quiet rage in his voice.

  It took Ashlyn a second or two to realize her mistake, and a split-second longer to realize that he'd responded.

  Skye understood Toryn?

  Oh, crap. What had she said when she'd walked in to find him shirtless?

  Man, have I been missing out with this whole reclusive warrior gig.

  He'd been smiling.

  Oh, crap.

  Oh, crap.

  "Well?" he
said, folding his arms across his chest.

  Ashlyn, still distraught over the shirt comment, promptly drew a blank. "Uh . . . "

  She was pushed out of the way suddenly by Lysato. "Run, Lady! He means to harm you!"

  "He means no such thing," she exclaimed, and squeaked as Lysato pulled out a weapon very similar to her crystal shuriken, striking a battle stance. "NO! Don't you dare - "

  Before the sentence was even finished, he had lunged at Skye. The swordsman nimbly sidestepped and shoved Lysato backwards, then rushed the smaller man. Lysato tried to edge out of the way and cut down with the shuriken, but Skye moved much faster, catching the weapon and twisting it out of the ninja's hands before landing a solid blow to the other man's lower back, forcing him to his knees.

  Skye knocked Lysato to the ground and placed a booted foot between his shoulder blades.

  "Move and you'll regret it," he said in Amato-style Toryn, then directed his gaze at Ashlyn.

  She was completely dumbfounded.

  Skye spoke Toryn?

  "You said you could explain," he growled.

  "I can." Or, um, not. Ashlyn tried to think of an excuse - just when did Skye learn to speak Toryn? - that wouldn't make it sound like she'd been playing both sides. Which of course, she hadn't, but how to make it look that way to their fearless leader?

  She felt her cheeks heating under his gaze. "Devlyn wants to make me co-Leader of Toryn," she said. "It could . . . mean the end of the war . . . maybe before it even really starts."

  He raised an eyebrow. "And you were planning on letting us in on this fact . . . when?"

  "Hey, I wasn't hiding anything from you," Ashlyn said defensively. "I just found out about it this morning. This guy walked in and told me that he would take me to Toryn in three days. I wasn't sure what to do, but I thought that maybe if I could just talk to Devlyn, we could work it out without, you know, violence and stuff."

  "Why didn't you come to me in the first place?"

  "Faithless infidel," Lysato spat, rather unexpectedly and totally randomly, prompting wary glances from both Skye and Ashlyn.

  "Uh, I wasn't sure that you'd approve."

  "Damn right I wouldn't have approved! You're our - stay still," he snapped at Lysato, who stopped struggling and glared at Skye with one eye, having to nearly twist his head entirely around just to see the people standing above him. "You're our only hope for some kind of resolution to this war, Ash. I thought you were a sure thing; I trusted you. Then Vargo tells me you visited the ninja we captured without telling me, and now I find you trading secrets with another Toryn. Tell me, what am I supposed to think? How am I supposed to trust you now?"

  "I thought I could get some information out of Kou…um, the ninja," Ashlyn said. "But he didn't tell me enough to make it worth your time to hear. And Lysato - this guy - I don't think he means any harm, he just wants to take me back to Devlyn."

  "To make you co-Leader," Skye said, and it was obvious that he didn't believe that was Devlyn's intention at all.

  "Look, Skye, people are staring," Ashlyn told him self-consciously. "Can't we take this up to Aik's house or something?"

  Wordlessly he reached down to grab Lysato's shoulder and haul the other man upright, handing the shuriken to Vargo, who had somehow materialized behind him.

  Ashlyn glared at the red-haired Spartan. She should have known all that sensitive crap he'd spewed had been fake. How could she ever have trusted him to keep her visit to Kou a secret? Jerk. If she hadn't loathed him before, she would really detest him from now on.

  To her infinite surprise Skye motioned for her to lead the way. She wondered why, and then realized stupidly that he probably didn't trust her to follow him. Like she'd just run away after being accused of spying? Please. She had a little more pride than that.

  Grumbling, she trudged towards the staircase she'd only minutes before came skipping down. "This is such crap," she said loudly, momentarily forgetting her desire to keep their dispute secret. "I didn't even want to stick around. For eight frigging years I've been perfectly fine on my own, but then you -" She tossed a glare of what she hoped was absolute contempt over her shoulder at Vargo and Skye, " - show up and all of a sudden I can't exist without somebody hovering over my shoulder.

  “As if that's not enough, now I've gotta defend myself for talking to one of my kinsmen. I suppose I should be mad that Drake is hanging out with Trace, then, huh? 'Cause last time I checked she was so on my enemy list! I suppose she's more trustworthy than me, right? I guess you trust a Spartan more than your own friend!"

  "No, I don't," Skye said. He sounded tired. "But I do want to get this straightened out."

  Lysato lunged forward suddenly, plowing into Ashlyn and sending them both tumbling to the ground. Ashlyn let out a yip as their tangled limbs added momentum to her forward motion.

  "STOP!" she shrieked, seeing the rapidly approaching drop-off. She half-flipped and dug her heels into the landing in front of the stairs that led to the weapons shop, but they gained no purchase on the slick ground, scrabbling uselessly against the sandy rock.

  Almost before she could comprehend what was happening, Ashlyn skidded off the edge of the landing and plummeted towards the ground below.

  This was not good. In the space of a heartbeat, she'd already considered all possible methods of landing. If she took the fall on her shoulder, she might put too much of the weight on her neck and injure herself. If she landed on her feet, her inherently weak ankles probably wouldn't be able to take the strain and would collapse.

  And if she landed on her back . . . well, she didn't want to consider that option. Too often Suki had thrown her off and Ashlyn had been left sprawled face-up, bruised, battered and hardly able to move.

  She didn't have time to decide which method would hurt less, so Ashlyn did what came naturally - she was falling headfirst, so she held out her hands, fingertips splayed. When she saw the scratchy dirt coming up to meet her, she kicked her legs back and started a somersault in mid-air. Her fingers barely brushed the dirt as she flipped, but her shoulders and upper back struck painfully as Ashlyn spun onto the ground, rolling over and over and over again in an attempt to lessen the force of impact.

  She could feel the gritty sand biting into her skin and winced, picturing skinned elbows and knees and bruises and lacerations everywhere.

  At last she collided with the mud wall of the gigantic dwelling, and Ashlyn's crazed rolling came to a crashing halt. One leg slammed hard against the wall and she screamed, hearing a crack, thinking that little jerk Lysato, if I ever walk again I'm gonna -

  "OW!" she yelped, suddenly aware of the intense pain in her lower leg as she shifted her weight.

  Aaron appeared beside her, his stubbly face showing concern. "Are ya hurt?" he asked, out of breath from dashing down the stairs.

  "YES," she yelled in his face, before belatedly realizing his close proximity and lowering her voice. "Yes, dammit. When I get my hands on that creep Lysato, I'm going to tear his frigging - OW! Watch it, that hurts!" She swatted away his hand, and struggled to a sitting position. "Man, is he gonna get his ass kicked."

  "Looks like ya may have done somethin' to it, kid. This ain't good."

  She glanced down at her legs, noting no particular change in their appearance. "No, I think it's okay, no thanks to Skye and company." Frowning, she rotated her foot at the ankle, keeping her face carefully blank as a jolt of pain shot through her lower leg.

  "Hey," Vargo exclaimed, coming up behind her, "are you okay?" Breathless, he crouched beside her, surveying her leg with a worried expression on his face.

  "Beat it, jackass," Ashlyn snapped.

  The redhead cocked an eyebrow. "Glad to see we're back on normal terms again." He moved to take her foot in his hands, slowly running his fingers down her shin.

  "Yeah, well, what did you expect me to say? 'Oh, so glad you told Skye I was a spy, wanna share a jug of sake?' Dream on!" She inhaled sharply as he shifted her foot slightly, her aching joint
s protesting the hurtful motion.

  "This is outta my league," Aaron said, holding up his hands when Vargo gave him a frustrated look.

  "Look," Vargo said, his tone biting as his hands moved over her ankle, where most of the pain was centered, "Skye asked, I told. That's all there is to it. It's not like I pinned him down so I could spill all your dirty little secrets."

  "I don't have dirty little secrets," she seethed. "And I don't know what you told him, but if it came from you, it was probably a totally perverted lie!"

  "It involved whipped cream and handcuffs," Vargo admitted slyly. He set her foot back on the ground and braced both hands against his thighs, a smile playing around his lips. "Skye was quite surprised at your audacity."