Ashyn had been content to sit and listen to them. Gavril had, too, offering a comment here and there, but mostly just listening and looking happier and more at peace than Ashyn had ever seen him. There had been something perfect about that night. Their journey had been terrible--the massacre, their father's death, the trip across the Wastes, and then, sent with a missive to the emperor, a missive that would decide the fate of Edgewood's children. There should have been no place for laughter and conversation and, yes, peace on such a journey. But around that fire, they'd found all of it. A camaraderie and a comfort Ashyn had never felt with anyone outside her family. And now, remarkably, they had it again. One magical night when it felt as if everything that had come since the last one did not exist, or if it did, it did not matter.
Moria and Ronan were talking about dragons this time. The uses for a young dragon and whether Zuri could be trained for them. As one might expect, Moria imagined martial applications while Ronan envisioned her as a spy. Gavril pointed out that Zuri was a very small dragon and would take many summers to be more than a pet--if indeed, she even decided to stay with Tyrus. They told him to save his logic--they had no use for it, and he'd laughed then, and he'd joined the debate, and Ashyn had rested, seeing them happy and feeling that wash over her.
It should be like this always, she thought as she watched them.
Of course, it could not be, and even to think that felt uncomfortable. A war simmered beyond those walls, and while they could not see it, nor could they escape it--it was their war, as much as anyone else's. Perhaps even more theirs, because they were the ones on the front line, facing Alvar, who seemed more interested in engaging them than facing Emperor Tatsu's armies.
And it was not simply the four of them anymore. They had allies, the most important being Tyrus, who was as much a part of this now, and as much a friend to Ashyn and Moria as Ronan or Gavril were. A new configuration. Different yet even stronger than before.
Conversation twisted and turned, and sometimes Ashyn took part, but mostly she was content to listen, and eventually she caught Gavril giving her pointed looks, and she realized he was saying it was time for the evening to end. Tyrus would arrive soon and they needed to leave at dawn. Moria had to get some sleep, and Ashyn was the only one who could make her get it. So, with no small reluctance, Ashyn brought the night to a close.
After Ashyn convinced Moria to go to sleep, she headed off to perform her nightly ablutions. Ronan went with her, possibly because when Ashyn wandered off in the night, trouble seemed to follow.
The stream was a good distance from the house. When Ashyn had finished, Ronan said, "If you're not tired, I'd like to walk a little."
"Certainly. Is something wrong?"
He shook his head, but she could tell it was--after chattering nonstop at the fire, he'd barely said a word since they set out. It was a silent walk for at least fifty paces, before he pulled something from his pocket. When he held it out, her breath caught.
It was the dove bracelet.
"I took this." He wrapped his hand around it, as if hiding it from view. "I know you might not wish it back. In fact, I'm quite certain you don't. I took it as a reminder of . . ." He shrugged, still looking away. "Of that night. In the dragon's den. But for you, I suppose it would be a reminder of the rest. Of Edwyn and . . ." He looked at her then. "How are you doing? You never complain, but I know you must be upset."
"I've been too busy to be upset," she said with a wan smile. "If anything, I feel foolish, but I won't whine about that."
"You never whine, Ash. You can talk to me about anything, at any time. But I understand if you don't want this back."
"Can we trade?" she asked.
He looked over, frowning.
"A trade," she said. "I have something for you, in return for that. But if I take it, then you must take what I offer. Unconditionally."
"I will take whatever you offer, Ash. Unconditionally."
She reached into her deepest pocket and took out her fist, bulging. Then she opened it. Jewels and coins tumbled from her overflowing hand. Ronan saw that, threw back his head, and laughed.
"You took--"
"Stole is the proper term," she said. "Yes, I stole it, and I do not feel a flicker of guilt. Edwyn and his people owe us, and therefore, by extension, their dragon does. Do not argue with the poor logic of that."
He grinned. "I see perfect logic in that. I si
mply cannot believe that you took it." He bent to pick up the pieces that had fallen. Then he stopped and looked up at her, his expression unreadable. "You did not take them for yourself."
Before she could answer, he went on, "No, that is a foolish question. You have no need of gold and jewels. You are the Seeker--the empire will provide whatever you require. And you would never fill your pockets with pretty baubles. You took them for me."
She took a deep breath. "It is not charity, Ronan. I know perhaps it feels like that, and I hadn't considered it that way. I simply wanted you to have--"
He cut her off with a kiss, making her jump, and when she pulled back, he was smiling. "I know you did not intend charity, Ash, no more than I intended this"--he lifted the dove cuff--"as a reminder of troubles. Our intentions were both good. I was simply surprised. And . . ." He seemed to struggle for more, and then settled for kissing her cheek. "Thank you. If you will take the bracelet, I will take these."
They exchanged their thievings. She put on the cuff, and when she looked up, he was right there, his face over hers.
"There is more I wished to say," he said. "When I was taken captive, I realized how much you meant--no, that's not right." He met her gaze. "I've long known how much you meant to me, Ash, and I tried to tell myself it was simply friendship, but it has not been friendship for a very long time, and when I was captured, I made a vow that if I ever saw you again, I would not waste another moment--"
"No."
The word was soft, but he flinched nonetheless. "You are saying . . . ?"