Page 54 of Shardless

“It doesn’t matter,” he tried telling himself, his voice barely above a whisper. “It doesn’t matter who she talked to.” Because she was home. She would be safe now. That’s all that mattered.

Turning back to his bench, Skye resumed his place at his workstation, doing his best to ignore the hollow pit that had opened up inside him.

It was late when Skye returned to his quarters. Closing the door and engaging the wards, he began peeling off his clothes, dropping them on the floor as he made his way to the washroom. The light from the fireplace cast a soft glow, and the carved mahogany panels set into the walls almost looked garish as the shadows flickered and swayed.

He tiredly fumbled for the switch to the washroom, sighing when the light from the swirled glass fire lamp hanging overhead illuminated the cavernous space. Shuffling across the tiled floor, he barely registered the familiar gray-and-white marble that lined the walls as he leaned against the sink and took in his reflection.

His eyes looked sunken, and his skin was paler than usual, making the violet ink that marked the flesh of his right arm seem even darker in comparison. In addition to the fourmarks symbolizing each of the seals he had earned during his training with Ivain, a dragon surrounded by ribbons of shadow magic hugged his shoulder. Like all highborn nobles, he had been branded with his household’s crest when he was only five years old—just before he had been brought before the priestesses of the Faerasanaafor his Attunement Ceremony.

Turning, he studied the tattoo inscribed at the base of his neck, between his shoulder blades. That one he actually liked. He had received the Gate Watchers’ crest—a sun rising behind an outline of the Aion Gate—the night he was initiated as Ivain’s Precept, his second-in-command.

Suppressing a yawn, Skye splashed some water on his face, pulled on a soft pair of cotton trousers, and then made his way towards the unmade bed that sat at the far side of the main room. Already hearing Sarina’s reproach in his head, he gathered up his clothes as he went and tossed them over the back of one of the chairs in the small sitting area by the window.

He needed sleep. Badly. Maybe a full night of rest would make this nonsense with Taly seem a little less… demoralizing.

Before he could fall face-first into bed, a soft knock interrupted his thoughts, and when he turned to see the door edging open, his jaw dropped.

Taly stared back at him through a crack in the door, her skin almost as white as the beaded nightdress she wore. She gripped the doorframe, and she was shaking from the exertion of having walked across the hall. “Skye?” she asked, her voice uncharacteristically timid.

Breaking out of his stupor, Skye rushedacross the room, catching her just before her legs gave way. “Shards, Taly. What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“Well,” she started, unsure. She trembled slightly, and he didn’t miss the wince that fluttered across her expression when he readjusted his grip, accidentally grazing the newly healed skin on her back. “I wanted to talk to you, but you never came back.”

Gently scooping her up, he carried her back across the hall. “You could’ve just called me. You know I can hear you through the wards if you yell.”

Her fingers traced one of the lines beneath his collarbone. “I didn’t know if you’d come.”

Skye frowned as he laid her back on her bed and tucked the blankets around her. She had already started to shiver. “It hurts me that you would even think that,” he muttered, walking over to the fireplace and stoking her fire.

Taly’s eyes followed him. “Well, after what you said this afternoon, it seemed like a fair assumption.”

Skye smiled humorlessly as he leaned against the marble hearth. A line of little animals he’d carved when they were children were arranged neatly in a row along the mantle. “Well, after whatyousaid this afternoon, can you blame me?”

Taly’s cheeks flushed, and she turned her face away, intently studying the shadows that danced on the opposite wall. “No. I haven’t treated you very fairly as of late, and everything you said was perfectly reasonable,” she whispered, her words slightly slurred.

That got his attention, and he turned to face her. “If you’re willingly admitting that you were wrong,” he said, walking back across the room andsinking down on the edge of the bed, “then that can mean only one of two things. Either the world as we know it is ending, or—" He glanced at the table set against the wall. A truly staggering number of potions and herbs littered the cluttered tabletop. “—you’re drugged out of your mind. I take it Aiden gave you something for the pain?”

Taly nodded sleepily. “He gave me a lot of things.”

“I can tell,” Skye replied, chuckling when her head lolled to the side. She’d gotten distracted by the fire. “Go to sleep, Taly. We can talk in the morning.”

Skye started to stand, but her hand shot out and grabbed his wrist. “Don’t go yet,” she mumbled, already half-asleep. “I wanted to tell you… I decided to stay.”

Skye settled back on the bed. “Ivain told me. You seemed pretty intent on going back to Ryme this morning. What changed your mind?”

“Aiden,” she sighed. “He’s helping me.”

Skye bit back a growl. “So you’ll let Aiden help you, but not me?”

“You can’t help.” She drowsily shook her head, and her eyes began to droop. “You can’t help with the dust. Only Aiden can help with the dust.”

Skye gently flicked her on the nose. Her eyes were unfocused and glazed as she looked up at him. “The dust?” he asked, holding his breath. This was the closest thing to an answer he’d gotten yet.

Taly’s brow crinkled in confusion, and then she started giggling. “Oops. I wasn’t supposed to say that.” When Skye frowned, that only seemed to spur her on. In a sing-song voice, she mumbled, “Dust, dust… can’t tell Skye about the dust.”

“Taly.” Skye snapped his fingers, abruptly shushing her and drawing her eyes back to his. “Focus. Just how much painkiller did Aiden give you?”

“Ummm…” She gazed into the fire for a long moment, almost seeming to forget that he was there. “I think… not enough. So, I took more.”

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