Return (Lady of Toryn trilogy) (34 page)

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 dea
d 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 with
out 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 might 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, scu
ffing 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 cou
rse, 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.

She was shivering, chilled with sweat and the cold, rain-heavy wind. The smell of the ocean made her think of her father, teaching her to swim when she was just a little kid, forcing her to paddle even when she was scared out of her wits and crying.

Everything about Toryn made her think of him, and that hurt. Duh, right? Ashlyn smiled wryly, and sank to her knees, twisting and untwisting the hem of her shirt. It was tough to think about her dad, and to come to terms with the new mental image she had of him. He'd always been a real jerk, turning Toryn into a tourist trap to make money and of course treating Ashlyn like some bratty little kid who needed to grow up and start acting like the princess she was supposed to be.

O
ver the past eight years, Ashlyn had been glad to be rid of him, for the most part, glad to have the freedom to do what she wanted without having him glowering over her shoulder like some really old-manish extension of her conscience.

But first and foremost, he was still her father, and at the edge of sanity
Ashlyn was still a little girl who was madly in love with her daddy. She could remember every little smidgen of affection that she'd ever felt for him, from the time he'd taught her how to fly a kite to the time he'd grounded her for two months for swiping stanes from the local shop. Secretly she was pretty sure he'd been proud of her for the theft, but the old shop-keeper hadn't been too pleased, and Lord Li was all about keeping up appearances.

Loving her
dad, and hating him too, was pretty easy either way. Ashlyn wasn't particularly concerned about which emotion it was- she was always one or the other with him. But this…this ambivalence…this horrible, aching sadness yawning inside her like a giant void where her self-assurance used to be…this was not so simple to deal with.

Lord Li
may have been many things, a liar, a cheat, a total creepazoid, but he was never the villain. That was always reserved for people like Lord Angelo. Evil people. People that Ashlyn could actually justify killing, if she thought about it long enough.

She had kept her distance from her friends, for the most part, since
Drake's unexpectedly sweet little speech in her father's home. She still felt like they were pitying her, and who wouldn't? It was her selfish stupidity that had caused this war in the first place. Maybe if she'd been here, Lord Li wouldn't have gone off the deep end, maybe the
shift
magic would still be safe in the mountains of Na Michico where no one would find it.