43

Ash

I wake with a start, pulling my face out of the book I was studying before I fell asleep. The room is quiet. The fire burns low and there’s a chill in the air. It’s nothing like the toasty bright space it was a few hours ago when Kaylin and I were laughing and planning our break-in.

Retrieval, I correct myself. I mean, information gathering is part of my job, and nothing is actually going to be broken.

“Who are you trying to convince?”

I don’t answer but reach for my sweater from the back of the chair and pull it on, and add a log to the fire. Kaylin left me to my studies, as he does. Fishing? Selling lures? I’m never sure. I start to stack our dinner dishes from the table when it happens.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

It makes me jump, and one of the plates slips from my hand, clattering to the ground.

Did you hear that?

The heat from the fire stops me as I back away, eyes glued on the window. My imagination?

“Definitely not.”

Without looking, I reach behind, fumbling for the hilt of the poker. I grip it tight and shove it into the fire, sparks flying up the chimney. I may not have master-level sword skills, but a molten shaft will make anyone think twice, won’t it?

“Anyone or anything?” My inner voice isn’t panicked like me; but it’s not saying I’m being silly, either.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

I brandish the red-hot poker in front of me, keeping my back to the fire. As my arm begins to shake, the door opens.

“Ash?”

“Kaylin!” I spin toward him, then return to my guard position, weapon pointing at the window. His casual smile evaporates and he’s at my side, sword out of the scabbard in a split second. How does he move so fast?

“It’s here again,” I say in a hoarse whisper. “I think it’s watching me.”

“Did you see?”

“No, but I heard it. Outside on the ledge. Tapping.”

He exhales a hissing breath. “I’ll check the room.”

Kaylin keeps his sword raised toward the window while he backs to the en suite and glances in. He scans every corner, eyes like a cat’s, then advances to the curtains, opening them wide in a flourish. Nothing.

“It’s gone.”

“But it was here.”

“I don’t doubt you, lass.” He sheaths his sword and puts more wood on the fire, lights a few candles. “Gone now,” he says again in his comforting accent.

Slowly, I return the poker to its stand, the foreboding still hanging around the edges of my mind. “It woke me up.” Somehow that doesn’t cover the terror I still feel.

“Aye, lass.” Kaylin rinses the teapot and fills it with chamomile, lavender, and lemon balm, a healer’s potion for sleep. The steam wafts over the room while it steeps, but I’m tense as lute strings anyway.

He chats about his day, asks me about mine. I’m still so anxious I can hardly follow the conversation. I know he’s trying to make me feel better, but in the end, nothing does. I’m scared out of my wits and ashamed to admit it.

“There’s no shame in it at all, lass. Your mind is trying to protect you.” And then Kaylin sighs. “Sleep is the only thing that will help.”

I stare at him, unblinking. “I can’t possibly sleep.”

“You can, Ash.”

“Why do you think that?”

“Because I will stand guard over you.”

Oh.

When I think about it, the headlands, the Aturnian attack, it’s true. Whatever’s doing the tapping, having Kaylin between me and it is comforting.

He pulls down the bedcovers, holding them open for me to climb in. “Come. Sleep.”

I keep my sweater on, and my pants, slipping out of my sheepskin-lined house boots. I am tired. But still, it’s another moment before I can climb into my bed. “Are you going to watch over me for the rest of the night?”

“That I am.” He blows out the candles.

In the dark, I hear his sword belt undo and the weapon being set against the nightstand. The rustle of fabric comes next.

Fear of the unknown hasn’t left me; it’s just being replaced by a whole new set of things to think about.

Such as the fact he’s climbing into bed. My bed.

“He did say he would stand guard over you for the rest of the night.”

Yes, but this is not the same thing!

Body flushed with something that feels a lot like excitement, I roll away, onto my side. When he says sleep, I know he means just that—sleep. But that doesn’t stop the swarm of butterflies battering my insides. Especially not when Kaylin’s bare arms wrap around me, holding me tight against his chest.

And this is supposed to make it easier to nod off? After forcing my lungs through the motion of a few deep breaths I manage, “Thank you.”

“It’s no trouble at all, lass.”

My fingers and toes are tingling, a smile on my lips.

And amid that warmth and comfort, my lids grow heavy and I let them close.

…

I stir the next morning, perfectly rested even though it’s barely past dawn, the daylight filtering honey gold through the lightly draped window. I stretch, long and satisfying, until remembering the events of the night before—the tapping, brandishing my poker, Kaylin sleeping next to me—and freeze.

I swallow noisily and peer over the pillow. He’s still here, asleep beside me. At least, his eyes are closed, and his chest rises and falls in a slow, steady rhythm. I’ve never seen him so still.

As if he hears that thought, Kaylin shifts, and the covers slide down, exposing his broad shoulders and chest. I prop myself up on an elbow and study him. His body is flawless, surprising for someone who fights as much as he does. His hands aren’t hatched with scars, and his chest and abdomen have neither scab nor blemish from the fight on the headlands or with the Aturnian scouts. I frown, looking closer. Surely a mark somewhere?

He opens his eyes. “You would prefer me marred?”

I jump. Had I spoken aloud? “I prefer you just as you are.” I pull the covers up to my neck as I speak, which I know is silly, since I’m wearing day clothes and a sweater over the top. Plus, we swam together with me much more exposed. Nothing about my form can surprise him. Still…

He frowns. “That remains to be seen.”

I puzzle for a moment, not understanding his meaning. “Cryptic this morning, aren’t you?”

He changes the subject. “You slept well?”

“I did. Thank you for the comfort.”

“Tonight’s the night.”

I give him a shaky smile. “We’ll either find the text we need or get caught with a whole lot of explaining to do. What could go wrong?”

Kaylin chuckles. “It won’t go so bad as that.”

My smile fades and we go silent without a note of awkwardness for once, just a mutual gaze, a communion of sorts.

He reaches up and tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. “Beautiful,” he whispers.

As is he, not that I can manage to grasp any of the many words I know to express this. Not with the way his eyes hold me captive.

A smile tugs at the corner of his mouth, as if he can hear my inner struggle.

Before I can embarrass myself further, the moment breaks with a start and we both sit up, listening.

Was that a scratching at the window? My eyes go wide. Is the tapping back?

Kaylin motions for me to stay put while he leaps soundlessly from the bed and finds his sword, slowly drawing it from the scabbard. I creep from the bed and pick up the fire poker. Kaylin checks, but there’s nothing at the window. We listen intently until someone bangs on the door and I jump out of my skin.

Kaylin is there in an instant, shirtless in his drawstring pants, brandishing his curved blade. I follow him, gripping the poker. He throws open the door wide and his shoulders relax, sword lowers.

I peek around him to see who it is.

“Marcus?” I finger-comb my hair, wondering if he will start lecturing me about the protocols what with Kaylin’s bed neatly made and mine rumpled, but Marcus isn’t noticing anything of the kind. He’s completely preoccupied.

“I have to talk to Ash.” Marcus waves aside Kaylin’s sword and strides into the room, wild eyed, not asking why we have weapons in hand. He sits at the table and lifts the lid on the cold teapot.

“You look awful,” I say. “Have you not slept?”

“How can I?” Marcus scrubs his face. “Is there hot water? Tea?”

I pick up the empty jug. “I’ll get it.”

“Let me.” Kaylin takes it and slips out the door, leaving us alone to talk.

“What’s happened, Marcus?”

He stares at me, his eyes red, expression strained. “I can’t do it.”

I sit opposite him and push the plate of leftover bread and cheese in his direction. “Nonsense. What can’t you do?”

“I can’t control my phantom or glean an iota of respect from him, or Zarah for that matter. At this rate, I’ll never receive my yellow robes.”

“You’ve been at it only a week, Marcus. You passed the eliminations, and you’ll continue with your training every day. That’s why we are here.” I pull my hair back into a neat ponytail. “There’s plenty of time.”

“That’s just it. Yuki herself gave us a new deadline. Just under three weeks and we have to leave, with or without yellow robes.”

My mouth drops open. “I thought we had another month at least.”

“So did I. The freeze is predicted to come early. Bone Throwers called the deadline.” He pulls at his tangled hair. “He’s like a petulant child, Ash.”

“De’ral?” I whisper the phantom’s name, expecting to be admonished for using it.

Marcus only nods. “Whatever I do has no effect. When I ask for help, Zarah all but laughs. She still calls me Baiseen, and not in a flattering way.”

“I’ve heard her.” And I’ve felt the sting on Marcus’s behalf every time.

“I’m the joke of the class.” Marcus lets his face fall forward onto the table and leaves it there, golden hair spilling over the placemat. “You can’t deny it.” His voice is muffled. “You’ve been there for almost all of it.”

“Warrior phantoms take the most work. You have to give the relationship time to develop, and if there isn’t enough time, you’ll just have to work harder.” I get out of my seat and haul him up. On this journey, I’m both recorder and his best friend. “This is why you’re here, Marcus. To train. To compete. To accomplish.”

He frowns but gives a small nod.

“Baiseen needs you, Marcus. And your phantom.” Strength comes out of my depths and into my voice. “Don’t speak another word about failure or compare yourself to anyone else. Talk only about what you will achieve.” I rub his back as I speak. “And relax. If you’re this tense, your phantom will be, too.”

Kaylin returns with freshly boiled water, and I make a strong pot of Ochee. The scent of spices fills the room.

“Maybe today, Marcus. Tomorrow or the next day at the latest. Things will start to look up. You’ve just had a tough beginning, and he is a very strong phantom.” I look at Kaylin, thinking he might add something, strange as it is, us non-savants in the role of mentors.

He joins us at the table and surprises me with his insight. “At the core of your being, the phantom and you are one. That’s where you will find communion”—he sets out mugs in front of us—“and build the relationship from a shared heart.”

Marcus lifts his head and studies him carefully. “Odd that you know this.”

They have a moment where neither of them blink or turn away. I don’t know what passes between them, but eventually Marcus says, “It makes sense.”

Kaylin shrugs, handing him a plate of fresh bread.

Marcus tears off a piece and layers on the butter. His eyes glance over the room and back to us both. “I didn’t see either of you at dinner last night.”

“We had it up here.” Kaylin brightens. “We’re planning a—”

“Map!” I cut in before he spills our plot to break into the library. “For the records.”

Marcus nods. “You’re doing great work, Ash. I only wish I was doing better.”

“And you will be soon.”

“Tell him of the shadow? The tapping?”

My inner voice seems fine either way, but I don’t know if I should burden Marcus with the updates.

“If such a burden throws him, how will he ever hold the throne of Baiseen?”

Point. But no, Marcus doesn’t need to worry about this now. Not on top of everything else.

Marcus stops chewing and looks to Kaylin. “The phantom and I are one?”

“At the core,” Kaylin says.

Marcus downs his tea and rises. “You’re right, the both of you. I need to work harder, connect deeper. That’s all there is to it.” He’s at the door before I can stand. “First bell’s in an hour. I’ll see you on the training field.” He nods to Kaylin and then he’s gone.

The door shuts, leaving us in a moment of silence.

“Marcus isn’t usually so abrupt,” I say eventually.

“I know.”

We finish our breakfast, putting the final touches on our secret plan. Next thing I know, Kaylin is pulling on his shirt and threading his sword belt through the loops in his pants.

“You’re off?”

“Aye, off a-hunting.” He leans close but doesn’t touch me. “Could take a while. I’ll see you tonight.”

I wonder if he’s going to track down the shadow that haunts my room. And I’m not sure which I’m hoping for more—a successful hunt that rids me of the danger, or an excuse to keep him close another night, with his arms protectively around me.