Sky Stitcher, page 11
Something in him shifted. Black shadows pulled the light from the air around us, condensing into a solidified presence. His wings rematerialized, stretched end to end, framing the commanding expression on his face.
“I’m a Guardian, not a guard. Do not confuse the two.”
The lightheaded swirl in my vision distorted the dunes as an unwarranted flush of heat swirled through my cheeks. I overcorrected my momentary fluster and adopted a carefully crafted expression. Unperturbed and wholly unaffected. “And you think being a Guardian of the In Between, a monster of Prisha, who likely intends to kill me, is a point in your favor?”
“I haven’t killed you yet,” he pointed out, lifting his brows as though he did, in fact, believe he deserved some credit. “But there’s always tomorrow. I suggest finding more of that halfmoon bread…wouldn’t want to make poor decisions because I’m hungry and annoyed.”
“Okay, then.” Asshole.
I suppressed my body’s very affected reaction to his intense gaze, shoving it somewhere deep inside me and locking it away with a key. I’d forced my voice into my own interpretation of his lighthearted tone, but it had failed to resonate with the same apathetic quality he excelled at.
Still, my efforts seemed to unnerve him. Good. You see? I can get under your skin, too.
It was only fair.
He watched me, on the precipice of whatever he wished to say and eternal silence.
With a last glance toward the burning guryas, or at least the ruins that remained, I shoved the painful lump in my throat deep down into the depths of my stomach, forcing it out of existence. Burying the stone deep into my memory, ignoring the way it weighed heavily in my core.
Wallowing in my grief would not fix any of this. Besides, I could no longer bear the singed smell of scorched memories in my nostrils or the stinging discomfort of smoke blowing through my eyes. I blinked away the tears and, with them, the guilt. A snake shedding its skin, molting away the past to accept the journey ahead.
Mind made up, I abruptly collected a fistful of skirts, then turned my back on the ruins. I marched forward, following the tracks in the sand left behind by Rali and his men, letting the haunted vision of the guryas fall at my back. They held nothing for me. Only the pain of the past. My future, the answers I needed, my very survival—all of that lay ahead. And I had promised Rali I’d follow.
Shifting sands whispered at my heels despite the quiet plodding of his steps, warning me of his approach well before his presence prickled the skin at the nape of my neck. I stiffened, but continued to march forward.
“So we’re really going to follow him?”
I bristled at the mention of we, but accepted the fact that my cruel destiny denied me freedom from his presence—at least for now. Biting back the words I wished to say, I opted for the most diplomatic approach I could muster. Cold and distant, yet employing a minimum standard of respect. “Wherever the Stitcher goes, I follow. She’ll know what to do about this.” I gestured vaguely, unable to pinpoint exactly what I meant, then sighed. “About everything.”
His mouth twisted and his expression rearranged. His cheeks shifted to give the impression that he’d clenched his tongue between his molars, biting down the words he fought against saying. The starscape of his eyes lifted to meet their twin—the twinkling canopy of night—and his wings twitched tellingly at his sides.
Here we go again. “You know it will be faster if we fly,” I mocked, predicting his argument before he’d even opened his mouth.
“So we are in agreement, then?” He fell into step with me, matching my pace a fraction behind me to keep his distance. Or study me. Or perhaps consider all the ways he could dissect me with his shadows if he decided to kill me tomorrow as he so often considered. I shivered and shuffled forward faster but lifted my chin with an air of confidence.
“We are not in agreement. Not ever. We are in...mutual existence. A regrettable agreement of tolerance. That is all.”
“Well, it would be faster,” he muttered, more to himself than to me, but his words carried in the silent dunes. “But suit yourself. We’ll take the long route.”
I frowned, tossing a glance over my shoulder at him. “I prefer my feet firmly on the ground, thank you. Access to earth and air at all times. You know...like a proper Daughter.”
He snorted, and even I laughed at this joke. I had never been a proper Daughter. Proper Daughters didn’t hear voices that commanded them to kill the Stitcher, and they certainly didn’t unstitch the skies or accidentally summon monsters to the realm.
When I had regained my composure, I chanced another glance over my shoulder. His eyes darted away, apparently consumed by the monotony of the golden dunes, but his footsteps followed mine in perfect unison, as though instinctually attuned to each of my movements. I spun around and his gaze snapped back to mine. Walking backward so he could see my look of disapproval, I challenged, “Besides, you can’t possibly expect me to let you sweep me into your arms? I don’t even like you walking so closely to me. I don’t trust you. I—” I paused, sweeping my gaze across his chest, combing my eyes through his effortless hair. “I do not even know your name, monster of Prisha, though it seems you have found a way to steal mine.”
His jaw tightened at the mention of the jealous goddess’s name, but his throat bobbed beneath the collar of his neckline. He bristled, pulling his gaze away from mine once more. The horizon mastered his attention for a few paces, leaving me with a distinct feeling of emptiness in its absence. “Monster is fine, if that is how you wish to see me. If that’s what I am to you.” His countenance darkened, a shadow falling across his cool demeanor. “It’s what I’ve always been.”
I dug my heels into the sand, stopping so abruptly that his movements continued straight into my abdomen. He bounced off me, his fingers brushing against my arms, and he seized my wrist to catch his balance. He promptly released it as if he’d been burned by a hot coal, recovering his stance, but his hand flexed stiffly at his side.
He angled his jaw upward and studied me below half-hooded eyes, settling into his signature affect of indifference. Somehow, it lacked its former conviction. He wore it like a mask—from the bored glaze in his eyes to the insufferable smirk of superiority to the lackadaisical sweep of judgment. An act performed with precision, each piece a brick laid in defense. A wall to guard whatever truths he shielded beneath his insufferable persona. But beyond the wall, beyond his efforts of concealment, his body stilled. The breath in his lungs hovered, trapped as though he braced himself for my reaction. As if the words I said to him might matter. Or might wound him.
My body reconstituted with a tingling numbness of understanding, a rush of empathy I did not expect. The hair on the back of my neck raised, and anger washed over me, recalling the Dune Riders and the cool, deadly touch of a hostile blade beneath my chin. The hatred that cast the Rider’s face into monstrous shadows when he faulted me for all of Prisha’s destruction. Monster, he’d called me. My stomach clenched, pained by a sudden twist of guilt. “Nobody wants to be called ‘monster,’” I said. “What is your real name?”
He regarded me for a long moment, his eyes swirling with the sandstorm of thoughts he buried inside. Finally, he cracked a smile that lifted the shadows from his face. “The name fits.”
I crossed my arms and dipped my chin, glaring up at him from beneath my lashes.
He sighed. “Fine. If you’re so curious to know, I’ll tell you. After you earn it.”
I exhaled sharply, more exasperated by his presence than ever. Perhaps I had misread. This was all merely an act to get under my skin—and it was working. “Must everything have a cost with you? Eventually, you will tire of halfmoon bread.”
He tilted his head. “Doubtful.”
My hips angled to the side, moving all my weight to one foot as I crossed my arms firmly over my chest. I lifted my chin and glared back.
His eyes swept over my figure with methodical precision, then finally returned to my gaze. “That’s not what I had in mind, anyway.” His smile softened and disappeared, though the hint of a smirk remained, visible only in the effort it took to subdue it. “I’ll tell you. But only if you can best me. I want to see those fighting skills you boast of.”
“Best you?” My heart dropped. Is he serious? Hadn’t we already established there was no way to defeat him? That my subconscious refused to allow me to finish him off no matter how loudly my consciousness screamed?
“That’s not fair,” I protested.
“There’s little in life that’s fair, Starlight. Come on. Show me what you can do, and I’ll think about telling you.”
“And if I refuse?”
“Then ‘monster’ suits me just fine.”
“And if I fail?”
“You won’t.”
I narrowed my eyes, taking a moment to calculate his intentions but finding no secrets in his gaze to explain his behavior. He stared back, his piercing gaze a rigid wall of defiance. He would not bend—he meant what he said.
Fine. Let’s make it quick. My fists slammed against his chest, the shock of the impact surging through my joints. His arm hooked over mine, and my back slammed into the ground. A rush of air expelled itself from my lungs. Amethyst eyes hovered above me, sparkling with the thrill of his amusement. My body seized beneath his weight, heart pounding wildly in my chest as panic spread through my limbs like poison. His mouth pulled into a dangerous smile—a predator who’d captured his prey.
“Well, are you a monster or aren’t you?” I asked through a tight breath, struggling to break from his hold. “Surely this is the part where you kill me?”
He wavered, tilting his head with a teasing look of consideration. A lion toying with a mouse trapped beneath its paw. “Why rush? There’s always tomorrow.” I blinked sluggishly, but his hand wrapped around mine, and he hoisted me to my feet. “Again. But this time like you mean it.”
He stepped away, widening his stance and opening his arms to the side. An invitation to try again. His expression remained unfazed. Cocky bastard.
“We don’t have time for this,” I complained, throwing a glance to the horizon. How far had Rali already gone with Ahma? What if they ran into trouble and needed us?
His brows lifted. “Then perhaps you should yield.”
That’s not what I meant. I tightened my jaw, wishing I could refuse him but incapable of letting him win so easily. I trusted Rali to get the Eldress to safety. I did not trust Prisha’s creature to exempt me from his insufferable gloating if I allowed him to win this challenge. “No.”
There was no way I’d survive enduring his smugness the entire way to Rashii. That would be…unacceptable. And that was only if he decided to let me live.
“There’s always the option of flying,” he offered.
I groaned in frustration but did not dignify him with a rebuttal. Cracking my knuckles bought me time as my thoughts raced through my mind, allowing me to calculate his stance, his reach, his infinite advantages. You can’t think like that, I reprimanded myself. Every fighter has a weakness to exploit. I would find his if it was the last good thing I did in the Realm of Taara before I found my resting place among the stars. I bit my cheek with a resurgence of grim determination.
He watched me, interest piqued with one brow lifted. Shadows danced gracefully between his fingers, weaving in and out slowly as if flowing to a tune neither of us could hear. As if it were its own being—one that could turn and unleash its fury at any moment.
I flinched. If you don’t handle this, Zara, he can destroy everything you love. Do not forget where he came from. Who he belongs to.
My breath wavered as I reconsidered him, the predatory gleam in his eyes, the shadows that clung to him like he was their master. What would he do when he tired of this game between us? When he grew disenchanted with the connection that bound us together? An icy rush of dread flushed through my veins. This isn’t just about me. Not really. He has the ability to destroy us all, and I’m the only one who can ensure that never happens.
Rushing toward him, I aimed low and wrapped my arms around his knees to knock him off balance. His arms looped around my midsection and flipped me up onto his shoulder, spinning me playfully before returning me to the sand. The world swam in my vision, and I crashed to the ground, my rear bouncing with a final thump of defeat. His lighthearted laugh shook the air.
Venom and hell, I’ve had enough of this. I brushed sweat from my forehead, leaving a trail of grainy sand at my hairline when I blinked my eyes back into focus.
His legs folded beneath him, and he sat down in the sand next to me, so close I could feel his steady breaths rustle through the loose hairs across my forehead. He studied me closely for a long moment, losing the gleam in his eyes to something far more intense. He examined my expression carefully, lingering far too long for an answer that refused to surface. I held my breath, afraid to move beneath his scrutiny but also afraid to back down. I returned his gaze, searching for answers to questions I did not know. Searching for…anything.
Finally, he frowned and broke his silence. “You hold back when you fight,” he murmured. “Why?”
“That’s insulting.” I scoffed.
“Your refusal to try is the insult. Perhaps you do not care to know my name after all. For a moment, I was beginning to think you’d forgotten to hate me.”
“I am trying—”
“No, you aren’t. You’re afraid.”
It seemed an unfair assessment. I wasn’t holding back. Fighting was in my nature—it was the only thing my chaos was good for. He just didn’t waver. He didn’t yield like Prisha’s other monsters or succumb to a quick slice of my blade. He was a nightmare from the In Between, sent by Prisha to punish us. The sky crackled in agreement overhead, an ominous reminder of the jealous goddess’s intentions. I looked up nervously, wondering if Prisha knew I’d been chosen as the next Stitcher. If she planned to reach past the bars of her prison at the next window of opportunity to end me as well.
Then I studied him—really studied him. The way his wings slumped like charcoal puddles against the sand, the edges fraying out like tattered robes in the wind. The way shadows seemed to crawl beneath his skin as he considered me, always there below the surface, ready to strike. The way his gaze flickered between amusement and a darker, more predatory emotion I could not name. “I’m not. You’re just—” Impossible.
“You’re a Daughter of a goddess. Fight like one. I know you can...unless you plan to let Prisha’s monsters destroy you? Don’t you want to defeat her?” He asked the question like he was trying to stir up my anger, then leaned closer. “There are monsters far worse than me coming. You need to get ready.”
“Is that a threat?”
“It’s a promise.”
My heart thumped loudly against my ribs, blood rushing through my veins as panic set in, reminding me of who he was. What he was. Did he mean to remind me of what he could do? Of what Prisha’s monsters intended? I couldn’t permit myself to trust him, to grow careless in his presence. I’d already seen the destruction he could accomplish in mere seconds—and he was only one of her creatures. Just one of the murderous beasts she sent, but one that could efficiently obliterate us all.
No. Prisha didn’t send him. You did this. You are responsible. Fix it.
His chest compressed with a quick laugh when I scowled back at him, collecting my anger and fear and resolve into one compact package—a projectile to launch at him. I surged forward and tumbled into him, pinning his back to the sand below my clenched fist. Baring my teeth, I reached for the dagger in the sheath at my ribs. It sang against the leather as I unsheathed it, catching the stars upon its surface so that it glimmered with malice.
I shoved against the barrier between us and leaned forward, letting all of my weight add to its force. Our breaths mingled, short and staggered but rhythmically entwined by an unheard beat. The whole aura of the air encircling us seemed to swell with it until I forced myself to focus. My heart raced, and warmth spread through my cheeks when his eyes darted from the dagger clasped in my hand to my face. A knowing smirk surfaced, one that hinted at danger and victory. What are you doing, Zara?
Grinding my teeth against the effort, I bellowed and thrust the steel toward him. The blade resisted, as though I’d tried to force it through a slab of granite. But I persisted, pushing downward until my muscles quaked and burned. Just do it, I commanded the blade, undeterred by the insurmountable boundary between us. Listen to me.
The boredom in his eyes returned, seeping back slowly until they appeared glazed with his glassy, unenthused look of disinterest. Exasperation poured from me in a guttural shout, and I reached within, to the last reserves of strength buried deep within me. Starlight spilled from me, a shattering sunburst that forced its way through the space between us, radiating with certainty and power. Emerging from my heart. The heart of stars, I registered vaguely before leveraging it to comply with my bidding.
The threads of light wound around him, snaking into cuffs at his wrists, then pinning his limbs to the ground. His expression darkened, cast into shadows. Shred the skies, thief of stars. Monster. Shred the skies. The light I wielded sputtered then warped, its glow fading into tendrils of shadow at the sound of Prisha’s voice. Light turned dark, becoming something I hadn’t intended…something beyond my control. “What are you doing?” I gasped, blaming him.
Kill him, Zara, I urged. Clearly, our connection held dangers I didn’t fully comprehend…and we could not continue this game. My entire body trembled with the effort, but I forced the blade through the invisible boundary. Finally, the blade tapped lightly against his skin, an odd contrast to the force I exerted. Expelling the air from my lungs with a cry, I nicked the hollow of his throat—a shallow scrape wholly unnotable in ordinary circumstances. So inconsequential, the pain did not register on his face, though a thin line of bloodlike shadows slipped from the scratch.
He brought a hand to the cut, touching the blood as his glassy boredom dispersed. His face brightened, surprise registering in the jump of his brows and the quirk of his smile. He swallowed, and the movement of his Adam’s apple pulled inexplicably at my attention. “Now we’re talking,” he managed darkly between breaths.
