By the Skin of Our Teeth

[skyler manfield]

“’M alright,” her lips were growing numb, her words becoming slurred as she righted herself, not wanting to admit how grateful she was Cael had caught her before she hit the ground. She might not have had the strength to pull herself back up if she had. As it was, it was a struggle to get the lightweight silk coat around her shoulders, only one arm in the sleeve. The briefest thought crossed Skyler’s mind that she would ruin the thin material, but as she shivered in the chill of the prison, she figured maybe Hawk could buy him a new one. At the sound of guards shouting, not too far away, she amended her promise to herself, to include - if they survived.

Inhaling raggedly, the assassin glanced at Cael, finding it impossible to focus on his face or his words. It was all she could do to remain upright, and almost as if she only heard every third or fourth word he said. She drew her brows together and focused on his mouth and made out the word “captain.”

“Dunworry…” she mumbled almost incoherently, “Rez dead. Bled out or… suffocated.”

Closing her eyes, Skyler allowed her shoulders to slump, her thoughts falling apart and drifting in different directions like leaves across the surface of a pond. The sting of Cael’s fingers against her cheek was almost missed, but his words were encouraging - he was taking responsibility for getting them out - surely she’d done enough, and gotten them this far.

“Seven faint this red cat…” the words coming out of her mouth made no sense to Skyler, and she frowned, glad when Cael opened the door and pulled her behind him across the hall. The sound of panicked guards and stomping boots roared behind the ringing in her ears, and she focused inward on trying to keep upright.

When she opened her eyes enough to actually look around her again she had to reach out and lean against Cael, it was almost pitch black, and her eyes took painfully long to adjust to the miniscule amount of light that crept under the door. Apparently Cael was more resourceful than she thought, because a key was jammed into the lock of the heavy wooden barrier, and her mind seemed to remember that this might keep whoever was chasing them, out.

The glint of crystal in the too dim light was barely enough to catch her attention for a brief moment, and she tried to focus on it as her body began to tremble, shivering not only from cold but almost as though it wanted to break into tiny pieces and lay shattered at Cael’s feet. His voice was so far away, she almost thought that might already be the case, but suddenly she was shoved into a furnace and her resulting cry was lost somewhere in the blinding light that seared her eyes shut.

It was as if the fire of this place was made of ice, and injected directly into her veins. It oozed through her heart, and she choked back a scream that didn’t leave her lips. Skyler prayed for the first time in her life, begging to the gods that she could just die. She wondered for a moment if she already had - what if this was hell? How many people had she killed to deserve this?

Her mind circled round and round the all-consuming pain, and suddenly it stopped. The light changed, and she opened her eyes, her knees buckling as she cast forward and, unable to catch herself, felt the frozen wetness of untouched snow. If it hadn’t been so unbearably cold on her face, Skyler may have laid there face-down in the snow, but instead she forced herself onto her back.

Cael was on his knees beside her already, and she wheezed in a meager breath of chill air, staring at where his face should have been. He was just a silhouette though, the snow-laden clouds a steely grey that shone with the reflected light of the setting sun. Between his head and the sky, stretched the skeleton-like bones of whatever building they had ended up in somehow. Skyler turned her head to one side to look around her, but she never did quite figure out where they were.

Instead, her back suddenly arched, eyes rolling back into her head. Her heels rattled the snow away as they pattered rhythmically down into the rubble beneath. Her awareness was so vague, she only thought the poison was tearing her body apart, and would leave bloody fragments of her to stain the snow crimson in her memory. When the spring came, her memory would be forgotten. Her teeth ground together, and her head pounded against the ground painfully.

Nearly a quarter of an hour later, the convulsions finally stopped, and Skyler, gasping for air, found herself in Cael’s lap. His arms were so much warmer around her than she thought possible, and the sun had set enough that she could vaguely see the concern in his pale blue eyes.

Taking a final, desperate breath, as though to say something, Skyler conceded to unconsciousness, unable to fight it any longer. As she slipped into something between sleep and death, she swore she heard Hawk’s voice. Too bad, he’s too late, her mind laughed, almost as an afterthought

[Inkfinger]

The portal's blinding fire flickered out, leaving the crater that used to be the basement of a church in the listless grey of twilight once again. The warmth left with the portal flare. The familiar Salvic wind, as brutal as ever, blew hard across his face, shocking tears to his eyes. He fought to ignore it.

Skyler was more important right now. She had managed to roll over on her back, but there was something wrong, something fundamentally terrifying that left his heart colder than the wind left his face. The chain tugged at his arm, and he landed on his knees next to her, hard enough to bruise.

He almost yelped, but his eyes focused before the sound had left his lips.

Ok, never mind, bigger problem now.

Skyler was gray. Well, mostly gray. Her lips were blue. Her face was ashen, as if all the blood pumping life through her veins had been replaced with ink. Her eyes were lolling, but when he could see them, her pupils were blown, the black almost devouring the gray. It was eerie in the twilight, alien and bizarre, and it shocked tremors that had nothing to do with fear for himself back through his core. “Skyler?” He reached out to touch her arm-

The girl’s back curled before his fingertips landed, her body arching almost violently, feet grinding into the ground with a crunch of snow and ash. He let out a startled yell before his body caught up with his brain, lunging for one flailing arm before she could hit the ruined timbers. “Skyler!” He spoke without a clue if she could even begin to hear him. “Skyler, wake up, come on, you’re going to hurt your-” He jerked again, and the chain binding them together moved with her, rubbing at the bandages. “-self! Or me!”

She didn’t look as if she heard, or if she had heard she couldn’t respond. When he could see her eyes, they were completely white, rolled back so far that none of the color showed. He could hear her teeth hitting each other in counterpoint to the sound of the snow, and he winced at the thought of what her teeth would feel like tomorrow.

Provided there is a tomorrow.

He managed to pin one arm to her side, half-dragging her into his arms before she jerked again, slamming the back of her head into his nose. He yelped again, feeling something crack within, and the hot, slimy itch of blood trickling down his lip.

“You,” he gasped, simply holding on all the stronger, “are quite the handful, you know that?” He managed to sit upright, wrapping his arms around her torso in an uncomfortable bear hug, pinning her with her back to his chest. “Nothing but trouble.” It took him awhile to form the words, dodging her unintended headbutts, but talking helped him not think about the situation, other than the panicked And where the hells are Ludvik and Hawk?

“My best friend growing up was like you. She’d get me in all sorts of trouble, then blame it on me…” The top of her head hit his chin; he just avoided biting down on his tongue before he continued. “And of course she had these big eyes that would make everybody believe her and trust her and-”

Come on, please stop, you’re scaring me and I don’t know what to do.

“-she probably could have sold ice to a Berevan, she was just that good…”

He kept talking as she jerked, body going through spasms of something beyond his ken against him, feeling a frustration he couldn’t allay building up in the back of his mind. We didn’t go through the past week just so I could watch her die here! He didn’t know how long it was before he heard footsteps in the snow, but by that time he wasn’t making any sense – or really trying to, for that matter. By that time he was focused, completely, on the too-cold body hugged to his own, feeling every too-slow heartbeat like a harmony to his own. Stilted and erratic, but very much there.

And she’d stopped convulsing. Now she simply lay in his arms, like an exhausted child. He no longer hugged her to his chest, but he still watched carefully, most of his attention focused on her movements in case it began again. One hand brushed at her hair, gently. Her eyes flickered, once, as he heard a voice.

“I did see it! I told you, they’re early!”

He didn’t know the voice; at that moment, he didn’t care. All he knew was that the small flicker of the assassin’s eyes hadn’t been enough. The moment they drifted closed again, she went completely and utterly limp against him. He couldn’t see her breathing and the heartbeat against his chest…

No.

The voice had still been talking, but the tone had changed. Now there was a tone something like worry in the voice as clean hands reached out to take the assassin from his arms.

“Cael, what happened?”

He didn’t hear, didn’t respond as he lay Skyler back down in the snow, blatantly ignoring the man trying to take his burden.

No.

He bent over the limp, too-pale form, resting his head against her chest for a moment. There wasn’t a noticeable rise and fall; he couldn’t hear the gentle drumming that should have been there. Cold, shaking fingers pressed gently against the side of her throat – nothing there, either.

I said no.

There were healers, probably, who could have simply thought his friend back to life, or sorcerers and wizards who could have snapped their fingers to summon warmth and vitality back into her frame. Her body, lying motionless, like the princess of some child’s tale, waiting for a prince or a warrior or a wizard…

But you are you, and what do you have? Nothing but words…but words, on occasion, hold the truth.

“Ludvik, I think you’d better get down here and get your brother…”

Cael ignored the words. He grabbed a handful of snow, scrubbed it across Skyler’s mouth, and bent down once more. Her lips tasted bitter and cold, but they were soft, and he felt the tears again, this time at not taking the chance earlier. If she died…

Hands closed on his shoulders and he jerked away in a moment of furious, protective instinct, spinning in his crouch – and only the chain around his wrist prevented the dark-haired stranger (that’s probably Hawk his mind supplied, unhelpfully) from getting an inexpert fist in the hollow of his throat.

He took a step back, hands raised, though he didn’t look at all intimidated. There was a flurry of motion above, a clatter of boards down the makeshift slope, and then, suddenly, Ludvik was there, looming over Hawk’s shoulder. Cael’s older brother took one look at him, and something seemed to shut down in his face, a door closing behind his torch-lit eyes. Cael tried not to think about it, the adrenaline slowly fading. His kiss hadn’t worked – had he really been expecting it to? – and now his tongue stumbled over the words.

“I…uh.” He just asked what happened. Just tell him what happened. “She…um. It was poison. Hemlock.” This should have been happy; this should have been a reuniting. There should have been joy. What if, instead, he’d brought him a dead almost-daughter? “She…can you help her?” The tears were there now, drying cold on his cheeks. He couldn’t look at Ludvik. He couldn’t. Looking would only remind him of everything he’d lost.

Hawk didn’t answer, really. He simply waved for Ludvik to take the girl’s ankles while he took her shoulders. Cael watched, unable to walk away, feeling….empty. He was out – but everything was wrong. He felt a tug on his wrist, drawing him out of his self-abusing reverie, and looked up to see both men looking back at him.

"Come on," Hawk said, not unkindly. "If we hurry, we can save her."

"Oh." Cael took one more deep breath, and followed.

*

Once they were in the nearby house and the chain was off Cael's wrist (coiled, now, on the bedside table), Hawk's calm exterior seemed to crumple. He hovered by the bed, calling out different orders. Ludvik was in and out of the small room where they'd laid Skyler often, each time with the thinks Hawk had requested - piles of blankets, a tub of warm water, bottles of brandy and things that Cael didn't recognize immediately. Those he put together to make a device almost like a bellows.

He could barely see the girl now, buried under that pile, but that strange contraption was now over her mouth, pumping life into her lungs. Her skin was still pale, almost ghostly against the multicolored blanket. Cael lurked outside the door, peering in every now and then. Now that Hawk was here, it seemed that Skyler was more his responsibility...he watched, startled at the tiny pang of jealousy, as Hawk brushed a strand of her hair back from her still face.

And then he looked up. Cael didn't have time to back out of sight. His eyes landed on the worried Ink Mage, and softened, just a bit.

"Come here."

He'd been able to handle talking to Skyler just fine, at least on the inside, but Hawk was a different story. Cael took a step that felt far too timid, even for him, into the room. Hawk watched him without any condemnation, waving at the bed. "You can stay with her, if you like. Get some sleep?"

Cael glanced over his shoulder. Ludvik had ghosted to his former post outside the door. He looked about ten years older than he had moments before outside, but he nodded without meeting Cael's eyes. Cael padded the rest of the way to the bed, lifted the top blanket on the massive pile, and slid under; rejoicing at the gentle feel of linen against his skin.

He was asleep before he hit the pillow.

[skyler manfield]

The voices were like those heard while deep underwater - and what made this sensation more real was that Skyler felt like she was drowning, her lungs burning with breath she really didn’t want to breathe. It all hurt too bad, and she just wanted to sleep. Before there had been darkness, silence, nothing. There was no afterlife, just a pure, empty, blank. And after the agonizing pain the poison had inflicted on her, she was more than happy to stay in a place where pain, and all other sensation was unnecessary. She had managed to get Cael out, away from Reznik, or anyone else who could ever hurt him in that terrible hole beneath St. Denebriel’s Cathedral. As the black emptiness of death had swallowed her into its stillness, this was the last thing she worried about, and it was a satisfied thought.

So why was the darkness gone? Her head ached from the red glow of the light that seeped through her eyelids. The voices that murmured over and around her were deafeningly loud but she could not understand anything they said, or even remember who they belonged to - perhaps they belonged to nobody she knew. The weight of the blankets was crushing, and the fabric stung as it moved across her bare skin. Something forced each painful breath into her lungs and out again, not allowing her the less painful shallow breaths she would have preferred - since she was obviously not dead anyway.

Not opening her eyes, the assassin pulled her hand from beneath the blankets, ever so slowly, finally able to grasp the apparatus that breathed for her and was now unnecessary. As she tried to fumble with it, gagging as she tried to pull the tube from her throat, a larger hand closed over hers and she struggled against it. Closer to the surface the words were easier to understand, and she heard her name in a now familiar voice.

“Skyler, stop, I’ll take it out,” it was Hawk and she opened one eye to peer at him against the blinding light of a candle beside the bed she lay in, “Thank the gods you’re awake. I was starting to wonder if we’d get you back. Shhh, shhhh, almost there…. Alright… How does that feel now?”

The other eye popped open, and she glared at him, her hand moving to her throat, which was crusted with scabs - she remembered with a grimace Reznik’s blade against her skin. That wasn’t why her throat hurt though, and she began coughing when she tried to ask for water. Hawk smiled, and ever so carefully placed an arm behind her to lift her from the bed and placed a cup of water to her lips.

The cool trickle down her throat felt wonderful. She held some in her mouth to wash away the nastiness of too many hours of sleep. With a frown, she pushed the water away, spilling some on the varicolored blankets in the process. Squinting against the light, her eyes searched the room in a panic, and her heart nearly stopped again. Closing her eyes against tears that threatened, she coughed once before speaking in a raspy whisper.

“Where?” her eyes opened, pleadingly holding Hawk’s gaze, “Where’s Cael?”

Hawk smiled and shrugged, gently letting her lay back after fluffing a pillow with one hand to prop her up. Smoothing her hair, which was sticky with old sweat, back from her forehead, he didn’t answer immediately, just looked at the door for a long moment.

“He’s with his brother,” he finally answered, and Skyler closed her eyes, turning her face away from him, “He’s fine, you did a good job. I’m sure he’s very grateful for everything you’ve done.”

“I’m sure he is,” Skyler replied, bitterly. After everything, she had thought he would be there. Or at least she had hoped so. But why would he be? All that she was supposed to do was get him out of the prison, not form any relationship, or have any emotional connection - that was absolutely ridiculous anyway. They barely knew each other, and it wasn’t her job. She’d done what was required, and of course he belonged with his brother - that was the whole point, wasn’t it? So why did her heart hurt like it did with the knowledge that he was gone? She hoped it was just from the poison.

“How long was I …” she finally asked, not opening her eyes.

“Ten days,” a different voice answered, and Skyler nearly sprang from the bed to tackle him - her body had different thoughts though, and she collapsed against the pillow in a painful fit of coughing. It didn’t matter, because Cael was at her side when she stopped, and Skyler couldn’t remember ever feeling more relieved.

“They said y’might not wake,” he confided quietly, “I couldn’t let them give up…”

“But you left,” Skyler accused him, although she had taken his hand and clung to it as if he might leave again any moment, “You weren’t here. Hawk said you’d gone.”

“It’s the first time he even left this room since we found you,” Hawk clarified, his voice soft, “We could barely get the lad to eat, he was so worried.

Skyler looked up at Cael, a smile bending her cracked lips as he looked away, seeming suddenly very interested in the candle as his pale cheeks turned rather pink at Hawk’s revelation. Her stomach growled loudly, and she struggled into a sitting position, although when she got there (with much help from Cael) she leaned heavily against him, her fingers still interlaced with his.

“If I eat, I bet he’ll eat,” she surmised.

[Inkfinger]

Ten days.

Ten days had never felt like such an eternity, not even when he was down in the pit, unable to tell day from night. In those long nights and days, he’d only had himself to worry about - they’d taken away everyone he’d cared for.

But now he had someone else to worry about, someone who had spent the last ten days (and three hours, ten minutes, thirty-five seconds, the wind-up clock on the mantel said) pale, pitiful and small against and underneath the pile of quilts. He’d slept there - gradually going from curled up at the foot of the bed in a way pulled at cuts and bandages uncomfortably (but left him feeling safe) to the leggy sprawl he'd always had before when his body finally realized no one was going to wake him with a kick in the ribs - those ten days, not wanting to leave or let Skyler out of his sight, even when he heard the other men talking in hushed tones.

Especially when he'd heard them talking.

Ludvik didn't think she'd wake up.

Cael only ever left the room to do the necessary things: relieve himself, bathe (lots of that; Ludvik had joked one of the first nights that he was going to drain the well dry. He had stopped laughing when he’d seen how red Cael had scrubbed his skin) and (once) to get his lank hair chopped off, when it became evident that no amount of washing would ever make it feel natural. Eating had somehow slipped that almost completely off that list, though he’d managed to gulp down some of the soup that his brother spent most of his time shoving at him.

He'd been out, again, at Ludvik's urges, under the guise of another bath. Ludvik kept a huge kettle on the stove almost constantly now, between Cael's compulsive washing and the need to keep the hot water bottles at the foot of Skyler's bed filled. He'd dumped it into a wooden tub unquestioningly, with an ease that sent a pang of jealousy coursing through Cael. He was slowly growing stronger, but many things were still too much for his abused frame. He dumped a shovel or two of the late-winter snow into the tub to cool it down, and then left, drawing the curtain closed again.

And Cael spent the next hour scrubbing every inch of skin roughly, and his hair twice. No matter how often he washed the short-shorn locks, he could still feel others' greasy hands carding through it, tugging and yanking. He shuddered, and dunked his head under, feeling the burn of soap in his eyes, and not caring a bit. He stayed in the tub until the water had gone cold, and then struggled into Ludvik's too-big clothing without bothering to towel off. His pack still held most of his belongings - his books and his papers and his pen - but his clothes had been a lost cause. That was alright, though. They would have smelled of dust and the strange, arcane coldness of the store room that had saturated the leather of his pack.

He padded barefoot up the hall, Ludvik's patched, faded clothes clinging to him from the dampness, and his hair sticking up in spikes like a drenched dandelion, intent on returning to his vigil. He paused halfway down the hall, cold seeping into his feet through the carpet and the woolen socks alike. He could hear voices. Voices, and then a horrendous coughing jag that sent him into motion down the hall, heart beating a frantic tattoo against his ribs.

She's awake! She's alive!

He practically flung himself through the door, feeling his body ache in protest, and gleefully ignoring the slight burning pains in his legs. His rescuer looked awful as she coughed, eyes closed tightly: pale and weak and watery around the edges.

But at that moment, with the golden glow candlelight catching along her jawline and in the curves of her face, she was the most beautiful sight he had ever seen.

Hawk didn't say a word when he clambered onto the bed, taking Skyler's hand as if he frantically needed reassured that she was, in fact, awake. He'd had a few complaints at first, but once the older man had realized he meant absolutely no harm he hadn't protested again. Perhaps he'd realized that if the assassin was dead, if she never woke up, Cael would most likely fall to pieces too small to be glued together again.

He was moments away from apologizing for leaving, even for that short time, when Hawk spoke, defending him. Cael felt his face flush from the unexpected tenderness, pleased, somewhere deep in his brain, that he could still feel embarrassment. He kept his eyes on the candle, feeling Skyler's hand slide into his. When he met her eyes, they were still fever-bright, but this time her stare was lucid, and when he helped her sit up, her weight on his side felt like it belonged there.

"I could eat," he admitted with a small smile, lacing his fingers through Skyler's again. Hawk grinned, and vanished through the door. Cael leaned his head on Skyler's for just a moment, kissing her hair before he sat upright. Now that she was actually awake...

He glared at Ludvik, allowing some of the frustration of the last days into his eyes. "See? See?" His voice sounded borderline hysterical now, sitting there with Skyler grinding his knuckles together with the force of her grip. It hurt, but it was the kind of hurt that reminded him that he was alive. The wounds on his back were starting to fade now that they weren't being constantly reopened and abraded. His wrists and ankles just itched, new skin forming under the scabbing there. They would all, likely, scar; but that was a small price to pay for being alive. Skyler would have been too big a price. And, for a little while, they'd all been afraid that she was the price they would pay. "I told you she'd wake up. I told you she'd not give up!"

Ludvik had started to make the comments (Cael, you have to understand; there's a chance she won't ever come to. Hemlock's tricky, she might have suffo-) four days ago. Cael had, with the utmost maturity, covered his ears and refused to listen to the rest. If he didn't hear it, then it couldn't happen, couldn't become reality. It hadn't kept him from having nightmares of waking with the bed empty, save for the discarded handmade ventilator. Each time he woke up panting, as if by breathing hard he could force Skyler to fight for her breath.

Ludvik just smiled now, leaning outside the door in his usual haunt. "So you did," he admitted, his deep voice warm and some of the worry-drawn lines fading from his face. His strawberry blond hair had strands of gray that Cael hadn't noticed before his prison time - was it new, or had he simply been unobservant? His eyes - a darker, brighter blue than Cael's snow-pale - lit on Skyler. "You had us," he jerked his thumb down the hall, in the direction Hawk had vanished, "just about pulling our hair out." There was thanks unspoken laced around his words, in the tone of his voice. Cael just sprawled on the bed, content to cling to Skyler's hand. "If...if I'd had my way, we'd have left days ago, but my little brother was having none of it." The smile faded away at his admittance, and he cast an awkward half-bow in the doorway. "For that, you have my apologies. I beg your forgiveness."

Skyler still looked feverish, but she seemed to be thinking about Ludvik's words for a long moment. Ludvik held his breath, as serious as Cael had seen him when he'd first suggested they'd leave Skyler to her fate; perhaps even more so. He let out a long, relieved sigh when she nodded, curtly, and the smile returned, for all the world like a sun coming from behind a cloud.

"I'm, ah. I'm going to go see if Hawk needs any help." He gave them one last beaming smile before disappearing down the hall after the other man. Cael waited until the sound of his brother's footsteps had faded before he looked down at the girl leaning against his ribs.

"You really had us scared, you know..." He paused for a second, one hand creeping up to play with a wayward, sweat-limp lock of her hair. "You really had me scared."

[skyler manfield]

She was still too exhausted to try to calm Cael’s almost violent outburst at his elder brother, so she satisfied herself with watching the emotions pass unhidden over his face as he defended the hope he’d held onto for the last ten days she’d been unconscious. He’d bathed, to the point of making his skin raw, and Skyler realized just how translucent his pale skin was. But it looked like most of his wounds were scabbed and healing now, the dirty grime no longer threatening infection.

Ludvik remained serene in the face of Cael’s vehement shouting, simply agreeing with his brother’s accusations. When he turned his gaze on Skyler, she attempted to straighten herself a bit, eyes narrowing and studying his rather cryptic expression as he apologized, asking forgiveness - but had he really been wrong to give up? Hadn’t she given up - willing to succumb to the darkness the Hemlock had submerged her into? The likelihood of anyone surviving Hemlock poisoning was slim, it didn’t take an assassin to figure that out, and expecting someone to awake after they’d given in to the poison - well that was just ridiculous optimism. But apparently it was optimism Cael had clung to.

Cael’s brother was still standing there, waiting on her response, and Skyler finally nodded. Ludvik smiled, the first time she’d ever seen him do so, and she looked from his face to Cael’s hoping to see a mirrored smile there. As she finally glanced back to the doorway, Ludvik was making an excuse to go. She watched as he disappeared down the narrow hallway, his boots causing his footsteps to echo from the hardwood planking of the floor. In the common room, where he had joined Hawk, she could hear the two of them talking, their voices almost cheerful, sharing laughter as though they’d known each other for years - it seemed likely they had.

“Of course, scaring you was my plan, you know. Have to keep you on your toes, or you might not realize just how special I am,” Skyler joked sardonically at Cael's accusation, pulling away from him a bit, self-conscious of her lank hair that stuck to her forehead - his was short and stuck up here and there, “I didn’t really think you’d throw Hemlock in my face when there were knives in the bag that weren’t poisonous.”

Her lips twitched a smile, a twinkle in her eye as she pulled her hand from his and tentatively reached out to smooth a particularly spikey strand of hair. As he flinched away from her, she frowned, but didn’t move her fingers from his head.

“You cut it,” she noted, “Feels better, I guess?”

The words wouldn’t come out, not the right ones. Not the ones thanking him for hoping against all odds that she’d survive. Not the words telling him that he was the last thing she’d thought of when she thought she was finished. Not even the ones begging him not to leave again, even though she knew he had to. Just meaningless words about haircuts, and an urge to joke or laugh to cover up the inability to say what she really wanted to say.

Which was absolutely ridiculous. The two had been through enough together that they should have surpassed awkwardness. Whether their relationship could be considered romantic, or something else, she wasn’t sure, and perhaps that was what made things so strange between them, but it shouldn’t matter. Nobody knew their story, and probably nobody would. It was something they shared, a chain that bound them together stronger than those which had bound Cael in that cell beneath Knife’s Edge. And there was no lock or key on this chain.

She looked up at Cael’s face again, her fingers tracing down his jaw, her eyebrows knitting together as she finally let her hand drop back to her lap. Perhaps she was wrong, perhaps she didn’t need words to share between them. Skyler let a smile tug at the corners of her mouth, realizing that he knew enough about her, that she probably didn’t have to say a word for him to untangle the mess that was in her head at the moment.

Skyler knew now how he must have felt when she first came into his prison cell, though. The assassin hadn’t bathed since sometime before she went into the underbelly of the Cathedral, and she could smell herself, the acrid stench of fear and sickness clinging to the linen shift that covered her thin frame. Her skin felt sticky, her eyes gritty, and her mouth slimy, prompting her to drag the heavy quilt up further as though she could cover the grime.

“I need a bath,” she sighed, trying hard not to sound as if she was complaining, but it was true, “I smell terrible. I don’t see how you can stand to sit here next to me - I don’t even want to sit here.”

“You should eat first,” Cael told her, apparently able to ignore the smell, or at least pretend he didn’t mind, “Then you can worry about the bath part, if you’re even strong enough.”

Nodding acquiescently, Skyler glanced to the bowl that Ludvik had left steaming on the table when he’d first come in the room earlier. It smelled like fish stew, and her stomach growled again. When Cael took the bowl, lifting a spoonful of the broth and blowing on it, she raised an eyebrow. Did he plan to feed her like a child?

“I can do it myself,” she insisted weakly, reaching up with a shaking hand to take the spoon. It wasn’t the best argument, and as she tried to pull the spoon from his hand and nearly dropped it, Skyler pouted, realizing she’d lost that battle. If she couldn’t even feed herself, how the hell was she supposed to bathe? She glowered at Cael as he laughed at her frustration with her own weakness.

“Just shut up and feed me,” she snipped at him, knowing he’d never let her live this down.

[Inkfinger]

“Of course,” he said quickly, though he couldn’t completely hide his smile. He reclaimed the spoon, scooping up some of the stew. Ludvik was a half-decent cook (they all were; as their mother tended more towards the fishing side of the business. It had always been either learn to cook, or trust their father to cook. The former had seemed, unanimously, less dangerous.)

He looked to the girl – no, young woman – sulking in the bed, and his smile broadened mischievously. He blew on the stew once, scooting closer to Skyler as he did.

“Open up,” he said, in the teasing, sing-song voice generally reserved for nieces and nephews, waving the spoon under her nose. “Here comes the airship, heading towards the treacherous pass, chugga chugga chug…” Skyler’s return look sent an exaggeratedly pitiful expression to his face. “…ga. Alright, no airship. Choo choo train?” The suggestion only earned him another look. “Ferry boat?” He looked at the spoon, pretending to think. When he glanced up again, a tiny smile was tugging at the corners of Skyler’s mouth. “No? Uhm. Very small dragon, perhaps?”

She giggled at that one, a short snicker; quickly swallowed by a dirty look that was trying to hard to be genuine. “Aha!” He crowed. “A dragon! It’s a food carrying dragon, or…”

“You know, Cael,” Skyler retorted, dryly, “it could be a spoon?”

“…or it could be a spoon!” Cael agreed, readily, satisfied that he’d got her to laugh. He narrowed his eyes. “But if you don’t use it, the stew’s going to get cold, and then Ludvik will come back and pitch a fit about us wasting food. You don’t want to see Ludvik when he’s angry.” He paused, unintended seriousness creeping into the moment.

His brother had been furious, days ago, when he’d had a chance to be. It hadn’t been about anyone he could get at; it had been directed at the Church, by way of the abandoned knickknacks of this little house. He could still hear them shattering against the stonework of the kitchen floor, though Ludvik had thought he was asleep. On one hand, it was good to know his brother cared.

On the other, it was sobering. They had a lot to work through, it seemed, before things returned to even a semblance of normal.

He shook his head, physically throwing the thoughts off, and re-focused on his friend. The stew in the spoon was gone, and now Skyler was watching him, her arms still crossed, her bottom lip sticking out petulantly.

“Well? If you’re going to feed me, you might as well get on with it, or your food delivering dragon might be the one to pitch a fit.”

*

In the end, she managed to eat well over three-quarters of the stew before she collapsed back to the pillows in a fit of sputtering, unable to finish. He thought for a moment about, maybe, pushing his luck and trying the “just three more bites” trick, but…his four year old nieces and the fierce-eyed woman in the bed were two very different things.

“There, that wasn’t so bad, was it?” He leaned to set the bowl on the table before turning back to Skyler. “Now, you have a choice. More sleep, or we can get you wash-”

“Bath.”

“-ed up.” He paused, scrubbing his hand over the back of his neck. He understood where she was coming from. His obsessive bathing was enough to attest to just how long it would take to feel clean, even without the extra layer of mental filth the time in the cell had added. But she wasn’t strong enough to bathe herself, and he couldn’t even begin to think of asking Ludvik to do that. Ludvik had been bad enough with him. And he couldn’t ask Hawk. He’d almost got the man’s charge killed, after all. It didn’t seem right. “Are you su-”

“Yes,” she said, interrupting again. He opened his mouth to protest, but she kept going. “Now.” She gave him another sea-grey look that made his heart skip a beat, mostly out of sheer relief. Her eyes were so alive now, so different from ten days ago; now her gaze was alert, intelligent and ever-so-slightly wary, like a cornered wolf. The wariness was beginning to fade. He only prayed he’d be around long enough to see it banished altogether. “Please?”

“Uhm.” Cael was almost surprised to find the blush from earlier coming back as he toyed with the spoon. “I…guess?” Skyler was eyeing him, and he looked away, staring at his distorted face reflected on the green-tinged silver. “I just. You’ll, uh. Need help. And…”

“And you’ll give it to me,” Skyler said, matter of fact, her tone leaving no room for arguments. “I smell like a pigsty, I feel horrible, and there is a bathtub in this place.” With each word she held up a finger, like she was explaining something to a child. He couldn’t help the smile that crept to his lips at the role reversal. “Now is not the time for you to start being all shy and modest again.” She lowered her hand, but didn’t cross her arms again. “Got it?”

“Yes milady,” he snipped back, throwing in what had to be the sloppiest salutes in the history of Salvar for good measure. He stood, collecting the bowl from the table and catching another glimpse of narrowed eyes as he did. This time, he couldn’t resist the urge to continue teasing. He gave a deep, elaborate bow, and spoke with the most sophisticated accent he could fake. “I shall inform madam when her bath has been drawn…”

He barely managed to dodge the flung pillow as he ducked into the hallway, laughing all the while.

Ludvik and Hawk both looked up from the map on the table when he entered the kitchen, heading for the back door. “Did you actually get her to eat?” Ludvik asked, turned in his chair.

“Mhm,” Cael returned, opening the door to retrieve a couple buckets of snow from the lean-to. “And, uh. Now she wants a bath…” He let the sentence trail off like a request. Ludvik’s eyes widened in an emotion that looked very much like panic.

“Woah, now, Cael, I can’t, I’ve got Frida to think of, and it just doesn’t look right, and if she ever heard tell of it she’d box me ‘round the ears and-”

Cael sighed, cutting into his brother’s babbled litany of excuses. “I wasn’t going to ask, ‘vik. I’m going to help her. I just need water.” He could have laughed at the relief that sailed across his brother’s features, or at Hawk’s smirk, but he simply drew himself up to his full height. “Now, if you don’t mind.”

He turned on his heel and headed back to the washroom, limping just a bit. The small room was still humid from his bath, but the iron stove crackling merrily in the corner had kept it from getting cold. He set the buckets under the curtained window, and moved to the tub. The water in it had gone lukewarm, and the layer of soap scunge covered the entire surface. He tipped the tub on its side, letting the water slosh down the grate before he set it back up, trying not to think.

It wasn’t really that bad, was it? Modesty and all that? He was a gentleman, and he’d never really thought about women (or anyone for that matter) in that way before; in the way that really admitted that bodies had uses other than…well. Simply living. That simple fact had ended several relationships in the past, to tell the truth. There were some things that tended to scare off potential partners – sitting in what might pass for a personal strip show and working on a crossword puzzle instead of paying attention to one’s surroundings tended to be one of those things.

The thought that people would respect that fact that his mind didn’t work like that had died a brutal, disillusioned death beneath the Citadel.

But then Skyler had come along, and the thought that maybe –just maybe- it did work like that, but only for the precisely right person had grown to replace that original, murdered thought, pushing out the humiliation and fear at the same time.

Regardless, he thought dryly as he dug through one of the cabinets to recover the tiny, rubber floating dragon he’d found earlier, right now, she just wants a bath. You can sort out the tangled mysteries of the universe and your brain later.

Ludvik chose that moment to appear in the doorway, lugging the one of the steaming kettles. “Would you get out of my way?” He huffed. “This thing weighs as much as a cow.”

Cael obeyed, amused. Ludvik stepped into the room, letting Hawk into view as well. The other man had the other kettle, and was carrying it with far more dignity than Cael’s whiny big brother. He disappeared silently once the kettle was dumped into the tub, but Ludvik paused halfway through the door.

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t have done,” he said, smirking just a bit. Cael rolled his eyes, holding the tiny dragon toy up.

“That doesn’t mean a dam thing, ‘Vik,” he replied, a slight whine in his voice, “But don’t worry. I’ve got a chaperon.”

His brother laughed aloud, patted the dragon on the head, and vanished down the hall. Cael shook his head, and set the dragon on the side of the tub, perched there grinning. “What’re you laughing at?” He teased, feeling silly for talking to the toy, but not really caring in his relief at the day. He held his hand over the water, whistling at the heat rising from it before dumping a double handful of snow in.

It took several such handfuls to cool the water down enough. He stood, ignoring the wet patches on his knees, and fetched a clean washcloth from the small pile atop the shelves. He then lit the remaining candles in the washroom off the two already lit, watching the tiny golden-white flames flicker before he realized he was stalling.

Only then did he steel himself, and return to the bedroom.

He ducked the second incoming pillow just in time, grinning, and pretending not to notice the dark circles under Skyler’s eyes. He knew how she felt, relatively speaking. “It’s ready,” he said, abandoning the thought of continuing the earlier teasing. “Can you stand?”

“I think so.” She pushed the covers off, sliding her legs over the side of the bed. When she stood, it was on her own, though her knees were wobbling. She looked at him with a crooked smile that looked like it hurt more than she was letting on. “I could use a little help, though.”

“’course,” he replied casually, as if she wasn’t shaky, or about to fall on her face without his help. “Come on, let’s get you washed…” they had limped halfway through the door before he let the teasing tone sneak back into his words. “…Princess Stinky.”

If Hawk and Ludvik heard the carefully controlled smack - or the howls of almost-hysterical laughter - echoing up the hall, they chose to ignore it.

…And that was probably for the better.

[skyler manfield]

The levity was a relief, joking and smiling, for a moment forgetting how close they had come to never escaping the prison, how near she had come to succumbing to the Hemlock thrown in her face. As she tottered down the hall with Cael supporting her though, she realized just how much all the laughter and play had cost her. She was exhausted now after such a brief time of activity, and it was all she could do to remain standing as Cael peeled the grimy shift off of her. In all honesty, Skyler was too tired even to be embarrassed of her nakedness.

With great effort she lifted one foot and then the other, sliding down into the steaming water, and as a great sigh of ecstasy slipped through her chapped lips, she closed her eyes and leaned her head back against the rim of the deep copper tub. For a long while, the assassin simply lay there, the grime and sweat of fear and sickness seeming to melt off in the scalding water. The heat left her pale cheeks flushed and dewy.

The fire crackled cheerily in the tiny fireplace in the corner of the washroom, and the steam rising from the tub left the air between Cael and Skyler hazy and dreamlike. She let herself slip down beneath the surface of the water, her hair lifting and swirling above her, silence enveloping once more. Bubbles made their way to the surface and finally she was forced to sit back up with a satisfied gasp, the water streaming from her hair and down her face.

“Cael?” her voice wavered a bit, both from exhaustion and a bit from nerves - she was trying not to notice the fact that she her body was only shielded from his eyes by the vague milkiness of whatever had been added to the bath.

He looked over at her, then looked quickly away again, cheeks flushing as the water lapped down below the tops of her breasts for a moment. She slid a bit further down in the tub, pulling her knees up out of the water.

“You have to leave.”

This time when he looked at her, he didn’t look away, instead staring at her with wide blue eyes, the hurt apparent on his face. It took her several seconds to process the expression on his pale face, and another few to understand why there was hurt in his eyes. He had already started to stand before Skyler could correct herself.

“Not now, dunderhead,” she reached an arm out toward him, grabbing hold of the pocket of his trousers and pulling him back to his stool, “I meant you can’t stay here in Salvar, it’s not safe. Besides, I need you to help me bathe.”

“Oh,” he managed a sheepish smile, but said no more as he reached for a cloth hanging on the rack of towels behind the tub. He remained silent as he took her arm and began to gently scrub the smudges of dirt from her hand and worked his way upward to her shoulders, his eyes distant. Skyler closed her eyes and let her own thoughts drift, wishing she hadn’t told him to leave but knowing he couldn’t stay. It wouldn’t be long before the Church tracked him down, and she knew there would be no extended imprisonment this time - they’d drag him to the nearest town square and hang him. She shook the thought from her head and looked at Cael who seemed just as absorbed in his own thoughts. Her eyes scanned his face wondering what was going on behind those eyes the color of glaciers - must have been important, his jaw twitched as he ground his teeth together, and he’d been scrubbing at the same spot on her back long enough that it was starting to hurt.

“Copper for your thoughts,” her voice was soft as it broke the silence, but a loud snap from a collapsing log on the hearth punctuated her words and startled Cael out of his reverie.

“They aren’t worth a copper,” he replied, his eyes focusing on her face, but his solemn expression did not change.

“Must be worth something,” she smiled a bit, lifting a hand to pull his hand way from her, holding his wrist, “You’ve been washing the same spot for the last five minutes. What’s going on in there?”

He shrugged as she tapped a finger on his forehead, but she managed to get a brief smile out of him. The assassin realized it was that smile, so rare and hard to win, that she would miss most. The thought of never seeing it again was almost painful, and she leaned forward, folding her arms on the edge of the tub and resting her head on them, the whole of her back exposed to the warm air of the washroom.

“Could you … “ the words were as jumbled as her thoughts, and her heart pounded like a tympani against her ribs, she wasn’t quite sure where she was going with this, “Maybe you’re thinking you want to… just might … like… kiss me? Just a little bit? Or something?”

Long lashes brushed her cheeks as she looked down at the terra cotta tiles on the floor, avoiding his eyes. What was she thinking? Those were not the words she had intended to come out, but now they were loose between them, and part of her prayed he would laugh them off. A bigger part prayed that had been exactly what he was thinking.

[Inkfinger]

Cael helped Skyler out of her clothes, keeping his eyes averted as best he could. He’d seen women naked before – there was, generally, no modesty in traveling performers – but it still didn’t quite feel right. He tossed the formerly-white shift in the corner. It, like his original clothes, was too far gone to be washed. It would probably need burned. He eased her into the tub, finally feeling safe enough to look at her once she was under the water.

She’s so thin… Compared to his sister and sisters-in-law, she was practically tiny. The ten days spent in her poison-induced coma had probably exacerbated the problem, but she had the lean, hungry build of someone who hadn’t really spent much of her life having decent food. He was willing to bet that if she were out of the water, he’d be able to count every rib…

You never really realized how good your childhood was, did you?

“Cael?”

Her voice drew him from his uneasy reverie with a blush when he realized where he’d been staring. Her next words, however, were what sank into his skin like poisoned ice, as damaging as the hemlock. You have to leave…

Had she noticed his staring, then? Had she... I didn't mean...I didn't think she would be uncomfortable about it, not after....

Cael shook the thoughts off almost physically, standing up. He’d opened his mouth to say anything, to try and apologize, when she reached out and grabbed his pocket, leaving further wet patches on the worn blue fabric. Her actions didn’t really process, at first, until he forced the pain from his mind and listened.

"...stay here in Salvar, it’s not safe. Besides, I need you to help me bathe."

See? She didn't...it had nothing to do with that. She just cares for you. Stop jumping to conclusions.

“Oh,” he said, feeling a strange mix of embarrassment and an almost-giddy relief. He took up the nearest washcloth before he could betray that emotion, gently scrubbing the dried sweat and dirt from her arm.

There was something almost sensual about this: in the sharp but clean scent of the soap, and the way the dirt melted away beneath the washcloth, leaving soft pale skin in its wake; something seductive in the act of cleansing, but at the same time pure and right in the way his friendship with Damyan had felt, something that hadn’t existed in his soul for the last three months…

But even that couldn’t draw his thoughts away from what she had said. You have to leave… She was right. Undoubtedly, between the remnants of civil war and the confusion of Reznik’s death the church was unbalanced, but…they lived and died by their examples. There wouldn’t even be a show trial this time. Just a tree or a steeple or a signpost and a too-short length of too-tight rope. He shuddered.

But what if I don’t want to leave? His hands had gone still against her shoulder, the washcloth rubbing back and forth at the reddened skin. I could come to like it here. I could come to like it being with her…

Because that was what it came down to in the end, wasn’t it? If he left here, he would have to leave her, so soon after he’d found her.

“Copper for your thoughts,” she teased, drawing him from those very thoughts again, teasingly, her wet fingertips hot and gentle on his bony wrist. She left water dripping off his forehead when they brushed there. It was almost a reversal of their roles in the cell – him, silent; her, wanting to know what he thought. He managed a smile at that.

But that can be a problem when I don’t even know what I’m thinking…

He did know, though, and that was what made it worse in some respects. His thoughts had drifted back to snow and panic, and the desperate, irrational kiss. Her lips weren’t grey now – they were pink, full of the life that he’d feared lost. They looked soft, even when curled up in a small, teasing smile.

Like now.

The water sloshed around her bare shoulders as she shifted in the tub. The sound practically swallowed her nervous words, spoken low, rambling and hesitant in the sleepy warmth. It felt like he was listening underwater, each word taking its precious time to sink in and be comprehended. Her grey eyes flicked up at him, wide and full of a yearning he was not used to seeing directed towards him.

He found himself, for the first time in a long time, searching for just the right words words. He waited a second too long, long enough for something to dim behind the innocent desire – and that dimming felt like a loss in his soul.

“Skyler, I…”

“You don’t have to apologize,” she said, a little too harshly for her anger to be real. “I under-”

“No, no no no.” he interrupted, reaching out to tuck a lock of dripping hair behind her ear as he slid off the stool, feeling lukewarm water seeping through the knees of his trousers. “I was going to …” Soft-storm eyes fixed on his again, and he almost lost his will to speak. His hand lingered on her cheek, and this, this felt right. He cleared his throat, somehow holding the stammer at bay as the words rushed out.

“I was going…going to…oh, hells, I was going to do this.”

He ducked down, painfully aware that his hands were shaking, and brushed his lips against hers, feeling clumsier than he had in years.

[skyler manfield]

Her heart stuttered for a moment, the same quavering beat it had when the hemlock had become too much for her system to overcome. Of course he didn’t want to kiss her - besides, she berated herself, it’s not like you wanted him to kiss you anyway. But the assassin couldn’t convince herself that particular lie even vaguely resembled the truth. She waved him off when he finally spoke, interrupting - she couldn’t stand to hear his consolation.

The last thing Skyler expected then, was for him to kneel beside the tub, his pale face level with hers, his words almost as stilted as hers had been. Cael’s tone forced her to meet his gaze, and she looked up, afraid of what she would see there. His hand came to rest on her cheek, cool against the dewy warmth from the bath.

As she lifted her hand to cover his, he dipped his face to hers, their lips just barely meeting. Their lips were both a little chapped, but his were softer than she had expected, and she held his hand to her cheek as he started to pull away. The fire still crackled on the hearth, the water gently lapped against the sides of the tub, laughter echoed down the hall - but Skyler’s ears rang a bit loudly, she didn’t hear those sounds. Leaning her forehead against his, she found herself staring at his mouth, her eyes tracing the lines of his lips.

Raising her chin a bit, her lips met his again, this time neither of them reacting in surprise or uncertainty, only with the inevitable quickening of hearts and breath. Why in the world had she told him to leave and then asked him to kiss her? He had at some point lifted his other hand, and it now rested almost protectively at the base of her skull, its partner sliding from beneath hers to gently circle the back of her neck.

The sound of the door opening startled them both back into awareness, and with a slight splash, she pulled away from Cael as Hawk stuck his head into the washroom. A knowing smile grew on his face, a raised eyebrow aimed at Skyler causing her to blush furiously.

“Sorry to interrupt,” he chuckled, glancing over at Cael, “Just wanted to make sure our girl was alright in here. Looks as though you’ve got things under control though, lad.”

With a wink, he pulled the door back shut, the sound of his laughter fading down the hall behind him. The moment was shattered, and they sat there for a moment in silence. Skyler lifted a hand to her face, her fingers touching her lips as though to hold the imprint of his mouth on hers just a little longer.

“Water’s getting colder,” she murmured, breaking the silence, “Help me out?”

Cael nodded and pulled the towel from the rack, taking her hand and helping her stand. With both hands heavy on his shoulders and leaving damp handprints in their wake, she stepped from the tub and into the warmth of the waiting towel - and his arms. Skyler tried not to shake as she leaned against him, her face barely inches from his. For a moment they stood there, but when she was reminded once more by the sound of a slamming door down the hall of Cael’s impending departure, she swallowed her hesitation and lifted her lips to his again. He was taller than her, but not so much that she had to stand on tiptoe to reach his mouth.

“I wish you didn’t have to go,” her voice was soft as she finally stepped away, putting the activity of drying off between them, “I probably won’t ever see you again, will I…?”

[Inkfinger]

Hawk might have been indirectly responsible for saving his life, might have been the reason he’d met Skyler in the first place, but right about that time Cael could have quite happily punched him in the teeth.

He hadn’t felt like this in a long time. All the women he’d ever been with hadn’t so much as made him bat an eyelash, or been able to drag him away from his words – whether that was his failing or their failing, he would probably never know.

Skyler’s kiss, however, had sent a wave of warmth through his entire being: body and soul and mind alike; something that was more than just the dichotomy of tender and rough from her chapped lips. He wanted to hold her close, and never let her go…

But he had to.

And the thought almost hurt.

“I wish I didn’t have to go, too…” he said, his voice steadier than he would have expected under the circumstances. “But…if they find me and I’m with you…” He didn’t finish. She knew. And the only thought that terrified him more than dying alone was the thought of not dying alone, the thought of another person dear to him dying for his stupidity. “And you will see me again, if I have anything to say about it.”

And I plan to have a very large say in that.

She stared at him for a moment before looking away, draping a towel over her head to scrub at her hair. He brushed tentative fingers across her warm, bare shoulder before taking a step away.

“I’ll be right back.”

He left her toweling, stepping into the hall. He stood leaning against the wall for a moment, forehead against the cool wood. That moment was spent trying not to listen to Ludvik packing up his belongings in the bedroom, or the way he was laughing and joking with Hawk. He didn’t want to think about leaving, didn’t want to think about running for once.

You’re afraid you’re running away from her, aren’t you? He had no answer for his treacherous thoughts. You’re not. You’re running to make sure you have a chance at a future.

The thought galvanized him back into motion. He pushed away from the wall, swiping the suspicious moisture from his eyes, and turned down the hall.

There was a line of wooden hooks on the wall, generally used for wet towels. Clothes hung there now – things Hawk had brought for Skyler, and his own silk jacket, and the heavy woolen coat they’d stolen on the way out. He gathered Skyler’s clothes, and stared at his jacket for a moment.

A year and a half ago now, before he’d met Ingwe and the Dragon Hermit, before he’d been dragged kicking and screaming into darkness he hadn’t wanted to fight, his one-time Master had given him that jacket. It was a deep indigo blue, accented in silver - made of light silk but quilted to maintain some warmth, - and spelled to resist ink stains. It was the only clean clothing he had anymore, after so many years of writing and messy inky fingers. After the Cathedral, it was the only clothing he had anymore...

He pulled that off its hook as well, tossing it over his shoulder as he hurried back into the washroom. Skyler looked up as he held out her clean clothes.

“Hawk gave these,” he said, feeling a strange, embarrassment-free awkwardness as he did. The kiss had changed something between them; there was a familiarity that felt as if it had always been waiting to be there. “And…I’m giving this.” He held the jacket out, feeling the cool soft silk against his fingertips, snagging against the calluses and scabs that still decorated them. It still smelled of magic and dust, like the store-room under the cathedral.

“See, it’s…well. An old friend of mine gave it to me, and it’s...” He made a slight face. “It’s supposed to be good luck, if you believe that sort of thing.” Given his luck since he’d left his master’s training, he wasn’t about to believe word one of it. “But one thing’s for sure, I always manage to find it again. So. If…if you have it, that means I should be able to find you, right?”

It sounded horribly trite and clichéd now that he’d said it out loud, but he hadn’t been able to think of anything else. “Besides,” he added, reaching out to brush his thumb beneath her eye, gently as a butterfly, “The color goes pretty with your eyes.” He tugged a lock of her hair, teasingly. "I'm trustin' you not to rip it or anything..."