Page 56 of Guardian of Exile

The problem was, she couldn’t find her bra. After unsuccessfully searching all of the likely places—floor, bed, under the covers on the bed, under the bed—Tristen cleared his throat and pulled said bra from the bedroom doorknob, holding it out to her on one finger.

How the fuck had it ended up there? She snatched it from him. “Could you turn around?”

He raised one eyebrow. “Is this where I make a tasteless comment about how I’ve already seen them?”

“Only if you want to be a tasteless asshole.”

He turned away, disappearing a moment later inside a massive walk-in closet while she got her clothing back in order. He came back fully dressed and wearing his prosthetic foot again, so she guessed they were ready to talk.

“Just be straight with me,” she told him. “Do I actually have any chance of you coming back with us? If I don’t, I’ll get my friends and go, because I can promise you you don’t want to be subjected to Evra al’Daemon otherwise.”

“What is an Evra al’Daemon?”

“My best friend. I’m relatively certain entire planets live in mortal terror of her.”

“Okay,” he said, drawing the word out. “I’ll consider your proposal. What exactly is it you want me to do?”

“First, I need you to understand that what I’m about to tell you is going to sound wildly implausible.”

“Promising start.”

She sighed and gave him the briefest version she could come up with. She hadn’t been looking at her watch, so she wasn’t sure how many of her fifteen minutes were gone, but she was guessing most of them. It would be better if she could get an answer from him before the others came up. She had a feeling he would only get more guarded once they were here.

“Souls,” Tristen said when she was finished. “Of planets. Stitched to other planets and tied to Avatars.”

“I know it sounds impossible, but⁠—”

“Oh no, we are quite a few steps past impossible. Even granting you the existence of planetary souls—which I will do because I know that some souls do exist—I don’t think they just linger after death. Shamanic souls go to the Congregation. It makes sense that other souls would go somewhere too. They wouldn’t just sit around waiting to be Frankensteined onto something else.”

“And they didn’t. I gave you the condensed version. There’s a lot more to it, and a lot of it I’m not willing to tell you unless I know you’re in.”

She could tell, by the look on his face, that she was losing him.

“Look,” he said, in the kind of pacifying voice you’d use when someone had asked you on a date and you liked them but you weren’t into them like that. “Talking with you has been…illuminating, but this is?” He shook his head. “I don’t know what this is.”

What could she say to convince him? Would talking to Alihana do it? She brushed her fingers lightly against the hilt.

No, they said immediately.

Why the fuck not? You want them to agree to this too.

As I have said before, I am not entirely unhappy with my current state. I am accompanying you in the interests of my kin. And no Shaman will be touching me again until I have complete faith in what they will be doing with me. This one does not yet inspire trust.

Great. She was on her own, and she didn’t know what else to say. If she could convince him to just come to the Station, he could feel with his own magic the truth of what she was telling him. But he wasn’t going to go with them until he was convinced, and it wasn’t like he could reach the Station from here. Even if she could open a portal in Dead Earth that could reach the borders of the Station—and she didn’t know if she could, given how difficult holding on to the magic in Dead Earth had been so far—he would have to walk through it to test what she’d said, because she couldn’t open the portal into the Station. There wouldn’t be a direct link and⁠—

Oh. A direct link. Of course. “If a life was intertwined with another, could you feel it across a distance?”

He frowned. “What do you mean intertwined?”

“I mean, to use your terminology, Frankensteined together the way the original Shaman did the Stations and Avatars. If I could give you someone here whose life is tied to Earth’s Station and its Avatar, could you feel that with your magic?”

“I should be able to,” he said cautiously. “Where is this person?”

“Standing right in front of you.” The chaos thorns in her cheek were always Hidden—not because they bothered her, but because if anyone ever recognized them for what they were, it wouldn’t be good for her. She dropped that Hiding now.

Tristen swore and took two steps back. That was the moment she realized that, despite being quite magical himself, Tristen wasn’t really comfortable with magic. At least, not other people’s. He likely hadn’t seen anyone else use it since he’d been a child, and she was guessing the misdirection spell had been something his deceased captor had purchased off the same people he’d bought Tristen from.

“It’s the same magic I used to keep us from sight before,” she explained.