Chapter 22
Twenty-Two
Stone
The question was on the tip of Stone’s tongue as he and Aesira joined Birdie and Bee around the fire.
Why me that night?
So often he’d wondered what brought Aesira’s attention to him at the Phoenix. In a room full of suitors, she could have easily gone home with anyone. Not only because of her name but because she was beautiful.
He flicked his eyes to her as she settled in around the fire. Her dark hair was looser than she normally wore in Vargah. Curls hanging down her back and framing her face.
Then there was the matter of her eyes. One green.
One hazel. Both mesmerizing. Freckles danced across her broad nose and dark, full brows that seemed to permanently be furrowed but it didn’t take away from the unique beauty of her.
Bee said something and Aesira smiled and Stone’s heart leaped to his throat.
No, Aesira Zeliath was not just beautiful. She was unholy.
He stole a drink from Birdie’s canteen and savored the coolness as it reached his belly.
He doubted Aesira even realized how beautiful she was. Otherwise, there was no logical reason for her to approach him that night or tonight. Maybe she thought it would be casual. Wild and fevered and thoughtless.
He could be those things, if that’s what she needed.
But truthfully, Stone had never done anything casually in his life. When he met Vic and became a drug runner, he had to be the best in the Outpost. Even at twelve years old, he was bringing in more coin and regular business than some of the most seasoned smugglers.
Not because the drugs he was running were better, but because Stone had figured out the best routes. Had studied the corners and knew just the right time to hit them. Figured out what customers wanted and catered to them.
Then, when Vic realized Stone had more brains than an average runner, he became a chemist, finding solutions for their drugs' weak potency and introducing new forms of it.
So, no, Stone Odega did not possess a casual bone in his body. He tried, when he was younger, to be like the other runners in the Outpost. To meet a woman, sleep with them and move on.
He got good at pretending because even with something he hated, he couldn’t fathom doing it half-heartedly. So he learned to be someone else when he needed to be. He’d figured out a way to switch off his brain. He learned he could do this not just with women, but with work. With anything.
That’s when his reputation began to precede him.
He would make more potent products. Would demand they be sold for double, triple, what they were used to.
He carved out new routes for his own pack of runners, establishing connections with the eastern kingdom of Novaria, bringing them new drugs, expanding his region ten-fold.
Building his own empire right under Vic’s nose.
The boy with a heart of stone, they’d called him when he made these demands. When he began edging Vic out. The name stuck and he didn’t care. He forgot who he was before he became Stone, because whoever he was before, wasn’t the best.
He could be cold, if that’s what he excelled at. He could be empty and ruthless, if that was what others needed from him.
Living a lie was easier than living with the truth that when he took away all the faces he wore, he wasn’t sure who he really was. Wasn’t sure what his birth name even meant, if it meant anything at all.
He was Stone the viper and now, Stone Odega, and he was the best at being nothing and being everything and even when he got caught, even when everything he’d built crumbled around him, he didn’t bat an eye because he knew if a criminal was what he’d be branded, he’d find a way to be the best at it.
Which is how he got here, flying a ship with the queen’s money and his crew huddled around a fire.
Bee was singing, an old tune from the Outpost that made Birdie laugh.
Aesira smiled, sipping quietly from her canteen, her bronze skin lit up from the light of the flames.
He traced the ridge of her nose, the shape of her lips.
Envied the freckles inked on her skin because they were close to her and he was not.
When Aesira approached him that night in the Phoenix he figured he would do what he did for so many years in the Outpost.
Switch off the part of his brain that held any kind of empathy or attachment and switch on the part that knew how to make a calculated decision despite any risk.
Then her lips met his, stalling his heart, pulling his skin taut, and he knew that even though he could pretend with her, he didn’t want to, which is why he walked away.
Now they’d kissed again. Once at Vic’s, which even though he knew didn’t mean anything, kept him up the entire night, tossing and turning, replaying the touch of her soft lips against his until there was nothing left he could do but drop his hand and find release.
And then there was tonight, and it was tonight’s kiss that woke a hunger inside of him. A feeling he’d buried deep and tossed a torch to. That had him fidgeting and skin burning and fingers aching just to touch her again.
Why me?
But he knew the likely reason was because she needed a distraction. And if that’s all it was, he’d be the best distraction he could be, because he did not do things casually.
Aesira laughed, drawing his attention and he swore, as her eyes watched him through the flames, he felt that hunger broaden in his chest. Despite the impossibility of it, his heart made of stone began to beat.
“So they aren’t your real names, then?” Aesira glanced at Stone, then back to Birdie and Bee
“Technically no,” Bee said, stoking the fire. “But I’ve been called Bee for so long, I can't imagine going by anything else.”
“Same,” Birdie said. “When we were dragged into Vic’s, a new name was the first thing we were given. Make us understand that we were his. Melt us down to nothing and re-sculpt us.”
Aesira frowned. “Oh trust me, I know how that goes.”
Stone watched her over the fire. He wanted to dissect that sentence. Tear it apart, dig through the words until he could see everything in between that she wasn’t saying aloud.
See if the lies she told herself matched his own.
“But wouldn’t you want to take your old name back?” Aesira tossed a stick into the flames. “You know, now that you’re away from him.”
“For some of us,” Stone said, pulling Aesira’s attention to him, “there’s no going back to who we were. There’s no remembering a life that wasn’t the Outpost.”
Her brows pinched together again. “You don’t remember your name?”
Stone shrugged. Whether or not he remembered his name didn’t matter. He was Stone now and he’d been Stone for more than half his life. He remembered very little about his childhood before finding the Outpost, before finding Patch and Vic.
But what he could remember–being alone, dying of thirst in the desert–wasn’t anything happy. His scars itched as he ran a hand down his face, exhaustion seeping into him like water over sand. “Some things aren’t worth remembering.”
A bone-shattering chill ran down Stone’s spine, jolting him awake. He pulled his glasses from his pocket, wiping them on his shirt before slipping them on.
Bee and Birdie slept tangled together, the last remnants of the fire still smoldering, sending plumes of smoke into the night sky. He glanced to his right where Aesira was curled up under his jacket he’d laid on her after she’d fallen asleep.
A frigid breeze stung the few errant tears on his cheeks. He stood, dusting off his pants and peered over the ridge. The Lunaris moths were gone, likely hiding in the rocks to protect themselves from the cold.
More wind rippled through the air carrying a tune of soft chimes. The high peals reminded him of Soo’s bells. Then, a flurry of whispers danced around him, snaking in his ears.
“What is that?” Bee was up. Birdie, right behind her. Another gust of wind and the chimes sounded again, their high pitches growing closer. More whispers, more voices.
“Music?” Aesira joined Stone’s side. He hadn’t heard her get up, too focused on the unnatural wind and the sound of chimes and the voices he wasn’t sure anyone else could hear. “Is there a settlement on the Whispering Mountains?”
“It’s possible, but I don’t know for sure,” he answered truthfully.
He wasn’t keen on not having answers, but he figured better to be honest than get them into trouble.
He couldn’t recall any settlements being noted on the Whispering Mountains.
As far as the maps went, it should be barren until they eventually descended on the other side, which would bring them to Ravki.
The chimes rang again, then the whispers, closer this time, swirling around them from all sides.
“Maybe a drifter,” Bee said. “Or rebels.”
“Maybe it’s the king.” Birdie smirked but a small stroke of worry landed in Stone’s stomach. Could it be King Desmond? A better person would hope it was Desmond so they could turn around and get him home safely but that would mean not reaching Ravki.
Not finding out if fields of astra really existed.
More wind, more chimes, more voices that said nothing, another chill down his spine.
“I’m going out.” Aesira marched past him. He caught her arm before she could make it to the mouth of the cave.
“We don’t know what’s out there,” he said. “Think of the Strix. Of her song.”
“It could be Desmond.” There was a pleading looking in her eye, only for a second before she shifted and her gaze turned cold. Calculated. “I need to check.”
“We live in a land of monsters, Commander,” Stone said. “Don’t let hope blind you.”
She hesitated a moment before wriggling free of his grip and drawing her sword from the ground. “There,” she said, “now I’m going out.”
Stone could admit he was smart but he wasn’t necessarily brave and damn, if seeing Aesira march out of the cave, weapon drawn, didn’t bolster his courage.
“You two stay back,” he said to Birdie and Bee. “If you hear anything, head down the ridge.”
“And leave you?” Birdie shook her head. “Fuck off, we’re coming.”
Bee lit a torch and handed it to Stone. “Never let it go dark.” She cast him a smile before she and Birdie took the lead out of the cave.
Vicious gusts pulled at their skin, their clothes. Chimes drifted on the wind, filling his head. Debris flew in the air, but through it he could make out the shape of Aesira near the ridge.
“Commander!” He charged forward, shielding his eyes from the branches and leaves caught in the wind until he reached her side.
“Aesira.” He took hold of her shoulder but she was rooted in place, her body stiff.
The tip of her black boot slid over the edge of the ridge but he wrapped his arms around her middle before she could fall.
Her head rolled back, her eyes glazed and distant. “Aesira.” He shook her but she didn’t move. He pushed his fingers to her neck, checking her pulse.
She was breathing.
Alive.
Though her eyes were open, she seemed to be rendered unconscious.
“Wake up, Commander,” he said against her ear.
The chimes grew louder, more and more wind tore through the ridge, making him lose his balance.
He fell backwards, keeping his grip on Aesira’s waist, making sure he took the brunt of the fall.
“Wake up, Aesira,” he demanded again but a voice slithered into his mind.
Sleep, it insisted.
The sudden urge to close his eyes was irresistible but he fought against it, keeping them peeled.
Sleep, the voice whispered again and his eyes grew itchy and heavy. The ridge faded, his grip on Aesira’s waist loosening.
Sleep.
Maybe just for a moment, he thought. I’ll close my eyes just for a moment.
Darkness unfurled behind his vision and he could no longer feel Aesira in his arms.