Page 107 of Guardian of Exile

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The fortunate thing about Griff being with Jevryn was that he, unlike her other father, understood the importance of maintaining written communication when the option was available. So when she woke the next morning, she found her companion journal had a message in it. It was written by Jevryn, since this set of companion journals had been designed for him and her, which meant only the two of them could read or write in them, but it was written at Griff’s behest.

Arradin would like me to inform you that we are “working things out” and he would prefer to remain here a few more days, if possible, to spare you the more indelicate side of my moods. I should like to state, for the sake of fairness, that his own moods are quite capable of indelicacy.

Nyx shook her head and wrote back: Take your time. We’re all okay here.

After showering and eating breakfast, she and Tristen headed to the Warlock’s shop. Nyx had been surprised at how readily Ankira agreed to let Nyx bring Tristen to talk with Tobi, though the reason why became apparent as soon as they walked into the shop. After Ankira paused in surprise when she saw Tristen, the same way everyone who’d known Seth did, she told him, “Whatever she wants you to do, you don’t have to do it.”

Tristen shot Nyx a sideways glance. “I take it you two aren’t on the best terms?”

“We are not,” Ankira answered.

Tristen was still looking at Nyx. She sighed. “When Jevryn A-Morridahn threatens someone’s entire family on my behalf, it doesn’t tend to endear me to them.”

That wasn’t the whole of it, but it was the easiest explanation she could give. Harder to explain that she’d thought of Ankira as a friend, and yet when her memory had been fracturing, Ankira’s first response had been to ask Nyx to give up the Guardian post so as not to disrupt Earth Between, and she’d threatened to go over Nyx’s head if she didn’t. Harder to explain that Nyx had then had to explain that going over her head would be a very bad idea.

Nyx thought they might have been able to come back from that eventually, but then she’d portaled into Ankira’s shop, grief-stricken and not thinking about what she was doing. Ankira knew too much about her, now, and Jevryn had seen to it that she wouldn’t open her mouth about it. But he’d done that in a way that had made Ankira feel helpless to protect her own family and it was, ultimately, because of Nyx.

“Come with me,” Ankira told Tristen. When Nyx went to follow them, she added, “You stay.”

Nyx looked at Tristen. “Are you comfortable with that?”

He looked a little unsure as he nodded, but Nyx thought that was more about speaking with the Congregation after all this time than it was about her not being there.

“I’ll be at Cain’s Confections when you’re finished.” They’d passed the place on their way to the Warlock’s, so he knew where it was. Once Tristen and Ankira disappeared into the back workshop, Nyx left. She didn’t think she would ever be able to stand in the Warlock’s shop again and not think about the worst day of her life. And she didn’t want to think about it anymore.

She walked into Cain’s and was acutely aware of the place going silent. One second people were talking and laughing, utensils clattering against plates, and the next second it all stopped as people took a moment to collectively stare at her. After a moment they went back to what they were doing, even if the conversations were a little more muted than before.

She forced a smile to her lips and walked to the counter. Before Seth’s death she’d made a habit of coming to Earth Between regularly, a habit that had abruptly ended when she’d disappeared for six months. Word had gotten around in that time. Everyone here knew why she’d turned into a recluse. Everyone here knew who was missing from her side. She’d avoided coming into Earth Between since she’d returned to the Station so she could avoid exactly this response. But she had to jump over the hurdle at some point.

Big, burly Cain stood behind the counter, and she could have hugged him when the only thing he said was: “Usual?”

Her “usual” was a dozen of whatever he thought had turned out best that day. She nodded, waiting as he boxed up a powder-dusted pastry oozing a bright blue fruit filling. When she went to pay, he stopped her.

“On the house.” He slid the box across the counter, but kept his hand on it. His voice lowered. “I was sorry to hear about Seth. We all were. He was a good man.”

“Yeah. He was.” And for the first time, her throat didn’t tighten when she talked about him.

“You need anything, you let us know.”

“I will. Thanks.” She took the box when he lifted his hand and went to sit at one of the tables outside. She put the box on the table, pulled her feet into the chair and hook her arms around her legs, chin resting on her knees, and watched the world go by.

The wind blew. The birds sang. People walked and shopped and went about their jobs. Life rolled on, here and on a hundred other planets. She watched it all and felt a sliver of her natural curiosity return.

Why was the Dresidian man she could see through the window of the clothing shop across the street having such a difficult time deciding between blue or green for a shirt color? What made-up game were the four kids laughing and chasing each other around down the street playing? What was the girl at the table next to her sketching?

What would people wonder about Nyx, if they noticed her sitting here? She watched it all, and she imagined, and she wondered who she would be in a month, a year, a decade. Wondered what the universe would be.

“I don’t know if a table can support two people thinking this hard,” Tristen said dryly, slipping into the seat across from her. He looked lighter, as if speaking with the Congregation had lifted something heavy from him.

Nyx knocked on the top of the sturdy wooden table. “They’re from Cressida’s down the street. She has a hundred-year guarantee on all of her carpentry.”

Tristen’s eyebrows went up. “Is she going to be around if a table gives up the ghost in year ninety-nine?”

“Honestly? I’m not sure.” She hadn’t figured out what branch of base Human Cressida was, and it wasn’t polite to ask. “But at any rate, I don’t think the table’s going to collapse.”

He made a noncommittal sound in the back of his throat, but didn’t say anything. After a minute went by, she asked, “Should I brace myself for disappointment?”