Return (Lady of Toryn trilogy)

by Charity Santiago

  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, which is completely untrue."

  "We haven't seen each other in eight 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. "Gods, 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 twenty-three 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- ascending to the final level of the pagoda against her father's wishes, delivering the deathblow to the general of the DEMON army in the North Triangle eight 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 eight 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, Gods! Your hair!"

  Restlyn smiled and brushed a strand of chocolate-colored hair out of her eyes. "Do you like it?" she 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 eight 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 run 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, mahogany eyes sparking. "I'm not waiting for Skye anymore. I'm not the same girl I was eight 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 she finally sighed. "Okay, I'm sorry. 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 eight 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 decade pining for Jenn."

  Ashlyn felt her heart twist for her friend. "Yeah," she said. "What was so great about Jenn anyway? I always thought that white
dress she wore was just the most ridiculous-looking thing ever, and even though I don't want to disrespect her or whatever, it seriously seemed like she got kidnapped every five minutes. I lost count of the number of times I had to bail her out of trouble."

  Restlyn somehow managed to look mollified and appalled at the same time. "You can't talk about...people that way," she said uncertainly.

  "You mean dead people? Give me a break. Jenn knew just how useless she was," Ashlyn said, warming to the subject. "She was sweet and beautiful and selfless, but she couldn't hold a candle to you or me when it came to kicking butt. And I know if she's out there listening right now, she's thinking the same darn thing you and I are thinking- Skye needs to get off his ass and see what's right in front of him.

  “If there's one thing Jenn wouldn't want, it's for you and Skye to be miserable because he's pining for her 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 twenty-three 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 Toryn’s Lady 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 pair of baggy black pants that cinched at the waist with a drawstring, smiling humorlessly at the way the hems pooled around her feet. Some of the village women had been kind enough to give her some clothes, probably to stop their husbands from ogling the too-tight, too-short outfits Ashlyn had been parading around in since she'd arrived in Toryn, 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 her damnedest 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.

  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.

  If she were a stronger person, or heck, maybe just a more mature person, Ashlyn was pretty sure she'd be handling this a lot better. Eight years had blurred her memories a bit, but she seemed to recall Skye taking on the role of leader with considerably more ease than she was.

  She looked down at the steep drop-off beside her, following the edge of the path up to the pile of boulders teetering at the end of another sharp turn. If those boulders weren't there, she thought, I migh
t actually be able to jump across that dry waterfall, to the end of the path, rather than walking twice as long to take the long way around.

  Frowning, she turned back towards the longer way around, scuffing her sneakers in the dirt. No use trying to distract herself with idle thoughts. I'm just not a natural leader, she mused silently, no matter what Drake Lockhart thinks.

  Of course, the fact that Mr. Lockhart hadn't spoken more than two words to her since their emotional encounter that day might have had something to do with her sour attitude. Ashlyn wasn't exactly an expert on these sort of things, but the first time she'd seen Drake after that, she'd smiled the biggest, goofiest, most embarrassed smile she could muster, and he hadn't even acknowledged her presence, instead walking past her to lean over and mutter something in Trace's ear.

  Those two had been awfully chummy lately, she thought darkly. This was probably a repeat of last time- when Drake had shacked up with the blonde Spartan immediately after Lord Angelo had been defeated.

  Maybe Drake regretted what had happened between them.

  She raised her left hand, sliding the fingers of her opposite hand over the grooves between her knuckles, remembering how gentle his touch had been. Not that pulling slivers of wood out of someone's flesh was particularly romantic, but then, most situations had at least a touch of morbidity when you threw Drake Lockhart into the mix.

  Ashlyn's footsteps crunched as she crossed the last ten feet to the edge of the Na Michico cliff, and the mountain wind ripped at her clothes. She took a deep breath, closing her eyes to inhale the scent of her homeland.

  How many times had she stood in this very spot in the last twenty-three years, searching her soul for what to do next? She'd lost count so long ago. She had come here when her mother died, Ashlyn remembered that, when the DEMON army had invaded and held Toryn under martial law for what seemed like an eternity.

  So many times before, she had come here in moments of utter emotional turmoil, but for whatever reason, it was a place of peace for her. It was the only place of peace that she could find on this island. Even her house was tainted now, as much a part of the twisted, miserable web as anything else that made up this tarnished reality.