48

Ash

The fire blazes in the hearth, sparking as I grip the long poker in the palm of my hand. The logs burn hot, and sweat prickles my skin, and not just from the heat. How dak’n long does it take to dash to the kitchen and back with dinner?

My mind has been whirling all evening. Marcus and the others didn’t share the enthusiasm Kaylin and I have for our discoveries about the second sun. Maybe it is all myth? But no. It’s documented, spread across the pages of multiple books and images for anyone to see.

The Great Dying is coming. Soon, if the notices are to be believed.

But that isn’t the only troubling thing… I tighten my grip on the poker.

When Kaylin finally sweeps into the room with a tray full of food, my body relaxes. “You’re back.” I try to keep the strain out of my voice.

“Did you miss me?” He closes the door then sees my face. “What happened?”

I swallow, my throat still constricted. “The shadow thing…tapping at the window.”

“Again?” Kaylin puts the tray on the low table. The scent of cornbread and stew fills the room. Southern Gollnar fare tonight.

“Didn’t see, but I feel it, like someone’s constantly watching me.” My shoulders tighten back up again. “Especially when you aren’t here.”

“I’m here now.”

I’m glad for it, but it’s not just that. I hang the poker next to the hearth broom and join him at the table. “Things aren’t adding up.”

He gives me his full attention, something I like very much about him.

“Did you notice? Aku’s first whistle bone isn’t displayed over the mural anymore.”

He goes back to dishing up the food. “Maybe they take it down to polish it?”

“Then why not say so? I’ve asked everyone I can, and no one knows what’s happened.”

“You’re worried?”

I can tell he isn’t. “Finding out the original whistle bones once formed a crown, and knowing crowns denote power and control, honor and wealth—”

“And sometimes immortality.”

I suck in my breath. “You mean, the old gods?”

He shrugs. “Why not?”

“Well, given all that, yes, my curiosity is piqued, and maybe some worry, too.” The first whistle bone’s disappearance is yet another thing to add to our growing list of oddities: the tapping, the warnings about the Dark Sun, the next Great Dying, Yuki purportedly sending out five messengers when we arrived, not the usual one, then pretending Destan is from Southern Aturnia when we all know he’s from the banned North, the seemingly unified Aturnian and Gollnarian troops…

Kaylin serves me a bowl with a large square of cornbread in the center and rich meat stew ladled over it. In spite of all the questions, my stomach growls, very loudly, and we laugh.

“Thank you.” I pick up my fork and attack my food. When I turn back to him, he’s staring at me and I’m lost in the depths of his eyes. They are a deep violet in the candlelight—all traces of sea-green gone. As I draw breath to speak, there is a snick at the door. Kaylin leaps to the side and I find my feet.

He throws open the door so fast I half expect an eavesdropper to stumble into the room, but no one is there.

“Lock this behind me.” Kaylin shuts the door and is gone.

I blow out a shaky breath, glancing over at the window. “Or maybe,” I say to no one, “it was just the wind.”

Not even I believe myself.

I finish my meal alone, have a cup of soporific tea to help me sleep, and dive back into the translation work while I wait for it to take, keeping the fire poker handy. In no time, my eyelids are heavy. I go to the door and check up and down the hall. Empty. I close and lock it again, have a wash, and put on a warm winter sleeping gown. As I crawl into bed, my thoughts turn to Baiseen. We’ll be traveling home again soon, Marcus and Belair wearing yellow robes, I am certain. They have both come so far. But what then of Kaylin? Will he come, too? We haven’t talked about it for weeks.

I have no answers, so I blow out the bedside candles and snuggle under the covers, the room bright from the fire.

Outside, the wind howls. I try not to think of long fingers on the sill and hollow eyes peering in, but there they are, in my imagination, rising to the surface to fill my mind. I close my eyes and shut them out. Slowly, the images fade away, but the wind rages on.