Page 23 of A Song of Ash and Moonlight

“And music,” Ryder added softly. “That too. Yes?”

I scoffed, wiping my face. “Yes. Music I can’t even play properly when I’m this upset. And don’t you think I’ll be upset when Kilraith returns someday? I think I just might be. So when that day comes, I’ll be rendered useless, just some sniveling, furious child having a tantrum in a garden, unable to sing even a simple folk tune.”

“What about when you calmed the queen only a few hours ago? When nothing else would calm her, your voice did. And when we were all in the Old Country, and your voice stupefied the specters attacking us in the forest? When your voice stunned Kilraith and kept the house from falling down around us as we ran?”

I shook my head, unable to speak. All of those things were true, but the thought of doing any of them again felt too massive to contemplate. I had gone to the Old Country once, and I never wanted to return. In that moment, all I wanted was to sleep. At least my dream of the fire was a familiar thing; if that was all I had to face, I could do it forever.

I sank down onto the ground and sat on the garden’s pebbled path. “Please don’t talk anymore,” I managed after a moment. “Please be quiet.”

“All right,” Ryder said reasonably, and then stood there with his hands behind his back, looking up at the brightening sky.

After a moment, I snapped at him, “What are youdoing?”

He lifted his eyebrows, pointed at his mouth.

I could have slapped him, but that would have required standing. “Yes, you can talk.”

He bowed sardonically. “Thank you, Lady Farrin. In answer to your question, I was standing here thinking, and I have a suggestion, if you’ll permit me to say it.”

How had this happened? How was I sitting here in the dirt, being condescended to by Ryder Bask? I glared at him, wishing that my gods-given magic was the power to reduce someone to a crisp using only my eyes.

“Say it, then,” I spat, “and without that nasty snobby tone in your voice, and then leave.”

“Hit me.”

It was the last thing I expected him to say. Dumbfounded, I stared at him.“What?”

“I know you want to, and I think it would make you feel better. Stand up and hit me.” He leaned down a little and smirked. A lock of dark hair fell over his blue eyes, which sparkled with mischief. “If you can.”

It was as if he’d beguiled me. My anger rose up so sudden and swift that I surged to my feet, my tiredness forgotten. I thought of that night at the midsummer ball, how he’d punched and kicked my father, how he and his party had taunted us all with their northern chants, and I made a fist and swung it at him.

He dodged it easily, both his hands still behind his back. He clucked his tongue, shook his head.

“I knew right where you were aiming,” he said. “You told me with your eyes, with the way you moved your body. Try again.”

I did, still boiling, and swung so hard I nearly fell over. Again he dodged my fist, and I was left swaying a little, blazing with embarrassment.

“Aren’t musicians meant to be artful and subtle?” Ryder said. “Whatever that was? The exact opposite. Try again.”

“No,” I said, fresh tears building behind my eyes. “This is absurd. You’re trying to make a fool of me.” And I waslettinghim. I’d snatched up his bait without thinking.

“Not trying to make a fool of you. Trying to illustrate a point.” Then he stepped a little closer to me, and I held my ground, preparing to try striking him again—but his face, suddenly grave, gave me pause.

“You’re right, Farrin,” he said quietly. “The worldischanging. Something is coming. Kilraith, or something worse. The queen is not herself. Her palace is compromised. And in that future of whatever’s coming, she has seen all of us. Our siblings. Our friends. You and me. Whether we like it or not, we’re going to have to work together. What we did in the Old Country was only the beginning—in more ways than one, I think.” He looked at me shrewdly. “You and your sisters…I don’t know what power you carry, but I think it’s something immense, and I think being there that night, fighting Kilraith, awakened it. I think you think that too.”

Speechless, I could only stare at him. My heartbeat roared in my ears.

“And if you’ll let me, I can help you,” he went on. “I know how to fight. You, clearly, do not.”

I bristled, opened my mouth to say something,anything, that would kick his legs out from under him a bit. But before I could, he put two calloused fingers against my mouth, exceedingly gentle, and startled me back into silence.

“You worry that you’ll lose hold of your power when it matters most,” he said, nodding a little. “I understand that fear. So why not broaden your arsenal?”

“You want to teach me how to fight,” I said, a little breathless with shock. My lips brushed against his fingers. As if burned, he quickly stepped back from me and nodded sharply.

Disturbed by this entire exchange, I swallowed hard and lifted my chin, fumbling for the upper hand I’d so clearly lost. “And in return?”

“Nothing.”

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