The Lady of Toryn Anthology (Lady of Toryn trilogy) (17 page)

He lit the cigarette and let it dangle from his
fingertips. "Yeah."

"Why didn't you? Why didn't you escape?"

"You had the baton," he said.

"Not when we were in the cave."

"I wanted to see what Kou was going to do with
us."

"So you could report back to Skye?"

Exasperated, he flicked ash in her direction.
"No,
Ashlyn
."

She sat back against the bed, arms folded over her
chest. "Then what? I'm completely in the dark here."

He covered his face with one hand. "For a ninja,
you're not too observant, kid."

It took her a moment to understand what he was talking
about, another moment to realize exactly what he was saying. Her face grew hot.
"You stayed with us to make sure I would be all right?"

He dropped his hand, met her gaze steadily. "Always
knew you were smarter than you look."

Why,
she wanted to ask, but it would have been a stupid question. "You believe
me, then? That I'm honestly trying to stop Devlyn?"

"I don't know."

Her heart sank. "Oh," she said flatly.

"I don't know what to believe," he
continued, "and if you're trying to help, I think you're going about it in
completely the wrong way."

This was getting kind of turned around, Ashlyn
thought. "But you stayed," she said. "You stayed with me and
didn't betray me to FLD, even though you could have. That's gotta count for
something, right?"

He smiled, but it was a sad smile. "I hope
so."

Ashlyn's heart twisted. "I think it counts for a
lot," she said softly.

Vargo shifted, glanced at her as the ash at the end of
his cigarette collapsed under its own weight and fell to the floor. He had yet
to put the cigarette to his lips. "That's all that matters, then," he
replied, sounding nonchalant.

There was a knock at the door. They both jumped.

"It's me," Kou's voice came through the
door, slightly muffled. "Time to leave."

Their dilemma hit Ashlyn shortly after Kou's words
registered. She looked at Vargo, trying to think of a way to solve it.
Obviously it wouldn't do them any good to tie him up again- and he certainly
couldn't go with them to Toryn.

There was another knock. "Are you there?"
Kou asked, sounding suspicious.

"Yes," Ashlyn said, finding her voice. She
stood, acutely aware that Vargo had gotten to his feet as well and was stubbing
out the cigarette in the ashtray on the bureau. "Give me five minutes,
I'll be right out. Keep watch at the stairwell."

Silence. Then, "Five minutes. No longer."

Turning to Vargo, she lowered her voice. "I don't
know what to do with you."

He merely stared at her, allowing her to decide for
herself.

Ashlyn shook her head as she considered the options,
idly twirling the baton in her hand. "I can't stop you from going to
Skye," she said.

"Not without killing me," he said. His words
were softened by a devilish smile, confident and charismatic.

Heart in her throat, Ashlyn took a step forward,
dropping her gaze to the floor. If she wanted to, she could have reached out
and touch him. This close, she could feel his warmth, imagine his heartbeat
speeding to keep time with hers.

"I can't take you with me either," she said,
her voice low. "I want to, but…"

"I couldn't go with you if you asked," he
replied.

"I'm sorry, Vargo."

He reached out a hand and tipped her chin up.
"Sorry for what?" he said, and his voice was husky, sending flutters
up and down her spine. His hand drifted from her chin to her hair, sliding over
the thick strands easily.

"I can't…" Less than half a step, and she
was there, against him so closely that she could feel every breath as if it
were her own. Ashlyn's right hand came up of its own accord, fisting itself in
his suit jacket. "I can't find the words," she muttered.

Her frustration must have shown on her face, because
Vargo frowned comically before his lips curved in a smile. "I know what
you mean," he said, just before he kissed her.

Ashlyn closed her eyes, savoring his mouth moving over
hers, better than she'd anticipated and more than she'd expected. She
considered losing herself in his arms, forgetting all about Kou, FLD and Toryn
and trying to convince him to run away with her. It wasn't an outrageous idea;
Vargo had some feelings for her and probably wouldn't say no to a road trip
with a princess. He could kiss her every night and she could (somehow) figure
out how to cook and they could live happily ever after.

But…no. This wasn't a fairy tale, and Vargo definitely
wasn't a prince.

She raised her hand and struck him once, right at his
temple, the blow landing precisely where she'd intended it to despite the
awkward angle of attack. Vargo gasped into her mouth, then slumped, his hands
loosening on her shoulders as he fell against her. Ashlyn backpedaled
desperately, trying to support his weight and keep herself upright as well. He
finally ended up on the floor half on top of her, and as she extracted herself
from beneath him and rolled him over onto his back, his head lolled to the
side, his perfect features slack. His wild hair was like blood-colored silk
against her fingers.

She checked his pulse. Strong.

"I'm sorry," she said again, brushing her
fingertips across his jaw as she stood and walked to the door, heaving the
satchel over her shoulder as she did. Road trips and fairy tale endings would
have to wait.

Ah, heck. She and Vargo probably would have killed
each other in the first week anyway.

The hallway was dark. She had left the lantern in the
room.

"I'm ready," she said to Kou. "Let's
get out of here."

Chapter 10

Name Game

Indecisiveness
was one of Ashlyn Li's lesser-known traits.

Lesser-known…and
yet entirely prevalent in her personality. Ever since the day that nine-year
old Ashlyn had sliced her arm open on her mother's shuriken and her father had
totally blown his top and run around in frantic, lopsided circles while she
bled all over her kimono, she'd had her suspicions that indecisiveness ran
thick in the Li bloodline.

Indecisiveness
came with a few fringe benefits, too. Tendencies towards annoying habits like
procrastination, ambivalence and an inherent clueless air were all qualities
that Ashlyn possessed. This, of course, was pure speculation. But Ashlyn saw it
as her excuse for being so confused all the time.

Kissing
Vargo was no exception. It was a trick. A ruse. She had concocted a plan, and
carried it out with perfect precision.

It was
a
lie,
she told herself firmly. It was a freaking
lie!

Ashlyn
raised her hand, touching her fingers to her lips, noting the way her breath
fanned out around her fingers in the cold air.

It
creeped Ashlyn out that her lame-o seduction had started to crumble even her
own defenses. Vargo had obviously bought it, hadn't given a second thought as
to why she would make a sudden turnaround in her feelings towards him. She'd
expected that. What she hadn't expected was the jolt of electricity that had
run through her at the first touch of his lips, not to mention the sudden and
totally
ridiculous
urge to completely give up her mission to gallivant
across Kresmir! With
him!

Ew.
Just…ew. She scowled. The original plan had been to lure him in close to her
with her pitiful little I'm-so-torn-between-you-and-my-destiny ploy, then hit
him with the baton. No making out whatsoever. No lips, no hands, no physical
contact of any kind.

But
when he'd been there, staring at her with those gorgeous green eyes…suddenly
kissing Vargo hadn't seemed like such a bad idea. And it had been pretty darn
enjoyable- while it lasted.

The
knowledge
that she'd kissed Vargo, two minutes later, standing in the rain and feeling
like she was about to spew the contents of her stomach all over the grass, made
Ashlyn want to scrub her mouth out with steel wool and gargle with bleach.

In the
past few days, she'd maybe pondered a brief interlude with the red-haired
Spartan. Maybe she hadn't even considered it. Maybe she'd…just…imagined the
possibility of having an affair with him. In an alternate universe. Or something.

All
right, all right, so she hadn't ruled out the idea of messing around with
Vargo. She was
eighteen
, for crying out loud, and he was obviously
interested in her and not completely revolting, despite her aforementioned urge
to heave, so what normal red-blooded woman
wouldn't
have a fantasy or
two?

Heh.
Right.

"Lady
Li," Kou said from beside her, and Ashlyn started out of her reverie.

"What?"
she said, staring blankly at him and trying to remember what she was supposed
to be doing. “Please don’t call me Lady. I’m not Lady of Toryn just yet.”

He gave
her a strange look. "Are you ill?"

Totally.
"No. I…no. Are you ready?" He was leading Suki by the reins, and had
apparently managed to get his hands on an old saddle. Ashlyn twisted her hair
into an untidy knot at the nape of her neck, wondering where the other horse
had disappeared to.

Kou,
always astute, followed her gaze to the worn saddle, his eyes skipping down to
the girth cinched tightly around Suki’s belly, and said, “An exchange."

For the
livery owner's silence, Ashlyn thought but did not say, because a horse, even a
crappy one, was worth three times as much as any saddle. But it was unlikely
that anybody would hide information from FLD without a darn good incentive.

"Let's
go," she mumbled, taking Suki's reins from Kou. She hiked up her skirt,
put her left foot in the stirrup and swung up on the horse's back, then took
her foot out of the stirrup again so Kou could do the same. He mounted easily
behind her, his hands settling around her waist for balance and still keeping
enough distance between them to avoid contact with her sheathed sword.

Ashlyn
took a moment to realize that she felt absolutely no zing from his touch, no
electricity at all. Which meant that her raging hormones probably weren't to blame
for all the lousy angst she'd been feeling.

Which
meant that there really was something between her and Vargo.

And
Drake.

I'm
completely out of control,
she thought
bleakly.
A dead man and a wise-ass, and I’m infatuated with both of them.

She
felt positively murderous as Suki carried them out of Industry, and she was
pretty sure that Kou could sense her grouchy attitude, because he didn't say a
word.

Until,
"We are being followed," he told her softly, hands tightening almost
imperceptibly on her waist. "Stalked. Perhaps he is hoping to overtake
us."

"What?"
She turned her head slightly to her left, searching out of the corner of her
eye. There was another horse not far behind them. It would have been invisible
in the darkness but for the horse’s gleaming white coat and the rider's
almost-matching hair. "Skye," Ashlyn grumbled, clutching a hand to
her abdomen and stupidly wondering if she might be turning green- or maybe some
sickly blue-green combination from both the cold and her churning stomach.
"I thought he was in his room at the inn?"

"Apparently
not," Kou replied.

"Great."
She felt awful, and this wasn't helping. She might as well have socked Vargo
and forgone the kiss completely, for all the good it had done her. "What
are we going to do?"

Kou shrugged;
she could feel the movement against her shoulder blades. "Run?" he
suggested, sounding as if he really had no clue whatsoever.

Run.
Fantastic. The fate of the world was in their hands, and their brilliant plan
was to run like hell.

"Hold
on," Ashlyn said, and urged Suki on. The mare leaped forward, digging in
with her hooves and dashing across the wet grass exuberantly.

Ashlyn
had never had a chance to race Suki at the Silverbell Theme Park, being that
she'd bought the mare during her whole I-walk-alone-I-need-no-one phase. But
she had always imagined that if she did, her little horse would trounce the
opposition so soundly that the rest of the field would never think of racing
again.

She
looked back once to see the other horse struggling to keep pace behind them.
The distance between them had increased only slightly. He wasn't going to stop.
She hadn't really expected him to, not
really
; asking Skye to give up a
mission was like telling the sun to retreat behind a mountain until further
notice. It just wasn't gonna happen.

Ashlyn
had always admired that about him, before. Now she had to grit her teeth to
keep them from chattering with fear and cold. Rain, wind, nausea and being
stalked by one seriously pissed-off swordsman who thought you were a traitor to
his faction did not make for a secure, comfortable journey.