Page 107 of The Duke and the Disciple

He strode down hall after hall before he finally spotted her, right as she turned to exit through the staff door. The tight cross of her arms and downturned head suggested a desire for solitude, but everything he’d come to know about Aesylt Wynter over the past year told him that being alone was a sentence she’d imposed on herself.

He understood a sentence like that. He’d been serving his own for over twenty years.

A gust of wind and snow assaulted him the moment his boots hit the flagstones. He hadn’t left with a cloak, but neither had she, and that was more concerning. Hypothermia was common even among the hardened locals. Death wasn’t unusual either, because people were prone to underestimating the thing they respected most.

Ahead, Aesylt’s dark dress flashed through the white squall, winking in and out. Wet flakes caught in his lashes, and he lost her again.

But he’d seen the direction she was headed, and it wasn’t to the tower.

With one arm raised to shield his eyes from the gale, he shifted into a careful jog. The flagstones, cleared earlier to prepare for the event, were freshly slick, but his singular concern was finding her before her distress put her in real danger.

The courtyard narrowed to a choice of paths. He weighed his options but then noticed small footprints on the leftmost one and started down it. It wasn’t long before he had his bearings again and realized where he was.

Artisan Row.

Although the city of Wulfsgate had some of the best artisans in the realm, the Derehams had their own blacksmith, silversmith, coppersmith, arrowsmith, bladesmith, and more, handpicked for the honor of serving their lord and his family exclusively. Rahn sometimes watched them from the tower when his thoughts wandered, stuck on the right word or description for his notes. He often wished he’d learned a useful trade himself, seeing how satisfied the men seemed after a long day of crafting.

The row of stone buildings was peaceful. Storm shutters were closed and locked on every one, blocking any interior view from the path. Crates of rubbish were stacked outside, awaiting porter pickup at dawn.

Her footsteps led into the clothier’s building, where the seamstresses did most of their work. The door was only partially closed, snow dusting over the threshold.

Rahn gently nudged the door open with his palm. “Aesylt?”

No response came, but a grunt and then a series of cataclysmic crashes from the back room revealed her location soon enough. He rushed in and found her sprawled among a series of fallen clothing racks, thrashing, shrieking, and?—

Disappearing.

She was there and then she wasn’t. When she re-emerged moments later, she was screaming and soaking wet.

“Squish!” Rahn scrambled to where she was tangled in garments. Her face was splotched with varying shades of red, her eyes a tortured match. Water streamed from her hair and down her cheeks, like she’d been in a massive rainstorm. She gaped up at him, panting, and disappeared again.

When she returned, Rahn tried to grab her, but all he caught was air.

He waited almost ten excruciating minutes for her to return. When at last she came back, drenched and shaking, he threw himself on top of her.

The shock of it was enough to pause her. Her eyes were wide and brimming with fright, like a cornered animal. It was hard to tell with how drenched she was, but she seemed to be crying.

“Breathe,” he pleaded, spreading one hand to her face to clear the hair matted everywhere. Her panting turned to hyperventilation. She twitched beneath him. “Aesylt,breathe.”

“I can’t.” She moaned, and he saw it in her eyes; she meant to shift, so he grabbed hold of her chin and forced her to meet his gaze.

“Youcan.And if you insist on disappearing again, I’m coming with you.”

“You don’t want to go there, Scholar.” Her chin trembled. She tore it out of his grip and turned her head to the side. “I think I’ve flooded it.”

“You created a storm?”

Aesylt nodded almost imperceptibly. Her breathing slowed, shallowing. “Of course I would destroy that too. I’m an abomination. I... I’m...”

“Slow down. Breathe.”

“Why? Why? Why would I, when Ikilledthose men and feltnothing?” She whimpered. Her eyes darted in all directions. “I should have died that day with my people. I shouldn’t even be here, pretending, acting like...”

Rahn had no choice but to ignore the crushing weight her words had fixed around his heart. “Show me.”

She shook her head in confusion, squeezing her eyes tight.

“The storm.Show me, Aesylt. I’m not asking.”

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