Edge of Tomorrow - Chapter Thirteen

[dracoqueen22]

a/n: Another chapter ahoy! For newbies to this piece of original series, I would suggest starting here where you get a full-length description and a listing of all the current chapters.

Warnings this chapter: language, some innuendo, nothing dangerous, pretty PG-13 and Worksafe. Enjoy~

Edge of Tomorrow
Chapter Thirteen

Another week passed before Ione realized it, and she spent her days in contemplation. Bothering Kieran in his lab. Getting scorched as it blew up again. Browsing the books in the library, most of which confirmed Azriel's story. Speaking with both Fenris and Aponi, who though reluctant also supported Azriel's claim. Talking to Gale because every time Ione turned around, he seemed to be there, and that wasn't necessarily a bad thing.

His presence served as a nice distraction, whether he enticed her into a friendly magical spar to work off her restless tension or a simple conversation over dinner. Conversation that had nothing to do with the choice Ione needed to make or the war gradually overtaking Talemar. Just simple subjects like how he’d met Quetz and Inari – the latter of whom Ione had yet to actually meet face to face – and why Ione never fought with a physical weapon, something he declared he would have to change.

Yet, in the back of her mind, the truth lingered. Malcolm was dead, and the nobles in Grayshire had led him there. They were the cause. They were the reason Ryder grieved for a brother who hadn't actually died. And why Sabriel had one eye. Why Ishmael was an orphan. Why Ione was here, hiding in this place, rather than at home with her friends and family where she belonged.

Not that she hadn't made friends here. But she did miss her family, and she worried for them. They worried for her; she was sure. She could just hear Jeredu now, claiming that he’d warned her. That they all had, and it was her own foolishness that brought her here. That she should open her eyes once in awhile and actually use that head of hers.

“Hiya!”

Ione stumbled. She glanced left then right and finally down to find the source of the all too cheerful greeting. There was a short creature in front of her, all big smiles and sparkling eyes. A kid. It was a kid. Why were there kids here?

“Errm... Hello?” She shot a helpless look at Fenris.

He was of no help, as usual. The wolf just shrugged as he planted himself down on his haunches and studied the child curiously. She just knew he was laughing at her behind his lupine smile. Fenris was well aware of how Ione felt about and around children. There were words for situations like this, and comfortable was not one of them.

The kid – a girl, Ione decided – grinned wider. Her head was tilted back so far that it was nearly vertical, but curls surrounding her face were like a tightly coiled halo and hadn’t moved an inch. There was something vaguely familiar about the lines of her chin and the roundness to her cheeks. And Ione could feel an impressive swirl of magic around her, which definitely wasn’t normal for that age. Not even with nobles.

“I wanted ta meet ya earlier,” the girl said then, and Ione belatedly noticed that she seemed to be missing a few teeth. “But my papa tol’ me I had ta wait til ya were better an’ stuff!”

“Better?” Ione repeated, trying to remember if she’d ever been sick. She felt Aponi’s tiny feet on her ear, but the butterfly seemed content to let this play out.

“Yeah!” The girl beamed, as though pleased by the fact that they were having a conversation. “Papa said dat ya hit yer head when he met ya.”

“Papa?” she muttered, and really, Ione needed to move beyond one word responses.

She studied the girl critically, noting her white-blonde hair that was a match for Gale’s. But Ione was pretty damn sure that he would’ve mentioned a kid by this point. Especially since he’d already waxed on about his former apprentice Cyrus, who Ione had met maybe once before.

“Papa?” she repeated a bit louder when the girl didn’t say anything the first time.

“Uh huh. He’s really tall an’ strong an’ has a nanimal spirit. An’ he’s got an eye just like mine.” She nearly poked herself with her exuberance to point that out.

Ione shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other. Not certain if she should stop the kid or what.

“Do I… know this person?” she asked, and her stomach gave an uneasy quiver that needed no explanation. She and kids just didn’t mix. Like oil and water. Or Souya with sanity.

“Uh huh.” The girl nodded exuberantly, snatching Ione's hand with the speed of a snake and with fingers sticky in a very unpleasant way. “He talks ‘bout ya all the time ta me. Says dat yer Uncle’s special new frien’ an’ dat we all have ta be nice ta ya. Or Kieran’ll poison da drinks again.” She squeezed Ione’s hand with the enthusiasm of… well, a child.

“Again?” Fenris questioned from Ione’s opposite side.

“Uh huh.” The kid gave a furious nod that was almost nauseating to watch. “He’s not allowed ta cook no more. Not after he set da sink on fire.”

Ione somehow wasn’t surprised. She just shook her head and glanced down the hallway, searching for an escape and not finding it. Deciding that it would be better just to beat a retreat, she tugged at her hand. But the girl’s grip was strong. As strong as Kieran’s even, tight like a vise made of steel. Ione felt a chill go down her spine.

“Is dat yer wolfie?” the girl – and what was her name anyway? – asked then, gaze now on Fenris. Who was watching the proceedings with ill-hidden amusement.

The traitor.

At Ione’s sniff, the kid made a pleased sound. “My papa has a doggie, too. And he’s much bigger.” She held up her free hand over her head. “His name’s Anubis.”

A light went on in Ione’s mind at the same time that Fenris lifted his chin.

Dog. Anubis.

“Sabriel,” Ione said aloud. “Your papa’s Sabriel.”

And wow, that was a weird thought. The idea that he had a kid when he really didn’t seem the type. But then, neither did Souya. And yet, he’d somehow conned her mother into doing it no less than four times. Wonders would never cease.

“Yep,” the girl replied cheerfully. “Ya guessed it. Uncle said ya were smart! I just didn’t believe it. Ya don’t look like it at all.”

Fenris snorted then. “Out of the mouths of babes…”

Ione shot him a look but kept her comment to herself. Now, that she really looked at the still nameless girl, she did notice a vague resemblance. The chin was the same and the nose. But her cheeks were still too round and babyish to really tell. And she could see Sabriel in the kid’s eyes. Still, Ione couldn't help but wonder who her mother was... and just where this so-called mother was.

Ione rubbed her temple with her free hand; the other one was still trapped by this small… person. She wondered where the kid’s minder was since she really couldn’t see Azriel letting her run around unattended. But that question was answered for her when a female voice suddenly popped out of a side corridor just in front of her.

“Naomi, honey!”

So the kid did have a name; Ione had been beginning to wonder. But that thought trailed off as she had a strange buzz of familiarity and a moment of startling déjà vu.

And then, the woman to match the voice burst into view. She zeroed in on the kid like a hound trailing a scent, her giner hair falling out of its bun as she bustled up to them. Body thinned but curved and not showing nearly the years that Ione knew she had. But that fell away as Ione gaped at her. As she goggled at the woman approaching them, and a great sense of relief washed so quickly through her that her knees nearly weakened from the force of it.

“We were so worried,” the woman put in with an almost scolding huff, not even casting Ione a glance. “You shouldn't run off like that. You know that your papa doesn’t like it.” She put a hand on her hip as if waiting for a response before turning to Ione. “Thank you for-- Ione!”

“Antoinette.”

It was both name and whisper. But Ione was just so glad to find Ophelia's mother whole and hale. With nothing missing from her kind face, though it seemed to have gained a few fine lines in the weeks since they’d seen each other.

“You're here?”

Ione could hardly believe her eyes. Kieran had promised that the hallucinations would wear off in a few hours, an unfortunate side effect of his latest battle with science. But as sure as the sun rose every morning, Antoinette was standing before her. Bright-eyed and bushy-tailed and farting rainbows or however the saying went.

“Of course, Ione dear. Where else would I be?” Antoinette made it somehow sound like the most reasonable question, too. “I’d have found you sooner, but I was roped into caring for this little one,” she explained, hands falling to Naomi's shoulders and squeezing gently. “She’s a handful but no more than Ophelia was at that age.”

Ione could just imagine. And really, she shouldn’t. Ophelia was enough at this age. Much less any younger.

“Have you been here long?” she asked then. And seeing the opportunity for what it was, she once again tried to slip her hand from the tiny steel band that seemed to be wrapped around it. The attempt failed spectacularly.

“As long as you, I’d think,” Antoinette responded. There was a fond smile on her face, one that was directed at both of her companions simultaneously. “It’s just been a bit hectic. Getting everything organized. I’ve been helping them with supplies… for the survivors.”

Her voice fell at the last part of the sentence, and the lightness of her face dimmed. Her cheeks lost their boisterous hue, and even her hair seemed to droop. But she bit her lip then and forced her smile to widen.

“So very busy. And then, I got roped until watching her.” She nudged at Naomi, who only giggled in response. “It appears she'd been running wild in Paragon until I arrived.”

The little girl stuck out her tongue through the gap in her front teeth. “Not wild,” she denied. “Da boss says I'm free-spirited an’ perky!”

A sudden and low chuckle slid down the side corridor to slip into the middle of their conversation then. It was a pleasant sound though, and somehow, Ione wasn’t the least bit surprised to hear it. Hear him. It seemed that her shadow had found her yet again.

“That does sound like something Azriel would say,” a familiar voice intruded, one that Ione didn't need to turn and look to recognize. “He's got a soft spot for all the kids, doesn’t he, Naomi? But at least, we’ve found you now. These little escape attempts are supposed to be a thing of the past.”

Ione flicked her eyes to the man who was now standing next to her. “Gale, stalking me again I see,” she teased.

The tiniest flush blossomed on the bridge of his nose as he clasped his hands behind his back. “Eh… not this time,” he replied with a hint of cheekiness. “I was out looking for her actually.” He nodded to Naomi.

She squealed in delight and used Ione’s hand to swing toward him.

“This time?” Ione questioned as she tried to straighten, looking at him blatantly now. “What about all the other times?”

Gale shifted beside her. “Only a little,” he admitted sheepishly.

She didn't fail to notice the reddening of his cheeks that joined the blush on his nose. Or that Antoinette's eyes skipped between them like a cat who couldn’t decide which mouse to follow. She glanced from one to the other, even as she freed Ione from Naomi’s grasp with an effortless soft of absentmindedness, until her eyes suddenly lit up. There was something of a maniacal gleam present now as if all the delights of the world had been presented to her on a silver platter and she couldn’t wait to try them out.

Ione was a bit frightened by how much Antoinette resembled her uncle in that moment. She took an abrupt step back.

“A little might be too much, my boy,” Antoinette commented with a lofty tone. “As they say, actions speak a lot more than words, but even words have their place.'”

Gale blinked. Ione seconded the motion. What did that even mean?

“Thanks?” Gale said, but it was more of a question than a statement as he tried to piece together the vague sentence. Warning? Advice?

Antoinette just smiled at them and grasped Naomi’s fingers tighter. She patted Gale on the shoulder like a mother would a favored if slow child.

“Just think about it. The answer will come to you.” There was something a bit too much like amusement on her face. “Let's go, Naomi. I believe Gale has first rights in this instance.”

First rights? What the hell was Antoinette talking about? Maybe Ione really had been exposed to too many of Kieran’s chemicals by that explosion.

“Okay,” Naomi agreed readily enough; she looked up at Ione with bright eyes. “We'll talk ‘gain later. I’ll get my papa ta come, too.”

“Yeah, sure,” Ione replied.

But it was weak. She swore that Fenris was laughing at her behind his paw; he would definitely pay for that later.

Antoinette waved over her shoulder. “We'll catch up another time, dear. Enjoy your afternoon.”

And then, she was gone. Nearly evaporating out of sight but thankfully taking the bundle of energy in the form of a kid with her. Ione stared after them in disbelief, feeling as if she'd just been rushed by a half-mad, confused bull with wicked horns.

Fenris chortled by her feet. She kicked at him automatically, but he dodged.

“So...” Gale began after a several minutes of awkward silence. He popped into her range of vision with the sort of exuberance she was used to connecting to young boys and not grown men. “Would you be interested in a spar? I still need to teach you the value of a sword.”

Ione, who been staring at the spot where Antoinette had vanished, glanced at him critically. He was all but bouncing on the balls of his feet, too much the kid on Yule morning. And something wicked and all too devious rose up in her then. Something that whispered in her ear and begged her to tease him.

“You want me to spar?” she inquired, putting a hand on her hip. Only to swiftly remove it when she remembered how sticky her fingers were. “With the man who's stalking me?”

Too easy. Too simple to gain that taint of red spreading across his face. Too, too easy.

“I...”

She waved off what was either a stuttered apology or half-hearted explanation. “I was kidding.” Ione cocked her head to the side. “I don't honestly think you are, by the way. Azriel probably told you to keep an eye on me or something.”

With that, she turned on her heel. Her feet took her to the training room, one of the few places that she could easily reach now.

“Why would he?” Gale asked, increasing his pace to keep up with her. His long legs were good for that.

“Because I'm the new girl in town,” she said dismissively. “But that's okay. It's the smart thing to do.” Ione cracked her neck and followed that with a roll her shoulders. “Besides, I'm in need of a spar. I've got all this energy and nowhere to put it.”

His blush deepened then, though she couldn't fathom why. It was nothing but a simple statement of fact. She didn’t know what he thought she’d meant. And honestly, it was like he'd never even talked to a woman before. It was fascinating and actually kind of cute, if really awkward at times.

“Anything new from Grayshire?” Ione redirected, hoping to divert Gale's attention to a topic that unsettled him less. But it was hard to tell with him sometimes.

He shook his head. “They've been noticeably quiet as of late. Azriel suspects that they’re planning something, but since he's not a member of Special Ops or the Brigade, he's having difficulty finding out precisely what it may be.”

“There were rumors of some big plan before I left. Great Lord Wyndham is a crafty old bastard. There's no telling what he's thinking.” Ione frowned thoughtfully as they came around a corner.

“How true,” Gale returned, moving ahead of her to open the door to the training room.

It was surprisingly empty for this time of day. Ione knew that usually any number of people could be found sparring here. Especially Grayson, who’d been noticeably avoiding Ione for the duration of her stay. It was equal parts annoying and funny to watch him run from her like a scalded cat.

“This spot looks good. Nice and even. No rocks to poke us in the back when we go down. Sand isn’t too hard either,” she commented when they came to a spot by the far wall. She reached with a tie to pull back her hair, which she’d worn loose for once, but it would only prove a hindrance that way. “So how do you want to do this?”

Gale made a choked sound. When she looked at him, he had his back turned to her, shaking his head.

“How...?”

“Yes, how,” Ione enunciated with a vague gesture. “Weapons. No weapons. Magic. No magic. An all-out, knock-down, free-for-all? One on one? Or should I go scrounge up someone else to come play with us?” she added the last bit in a sardonic tone, cracking her knuckles. “Sabriel’s always willing to give it a go, and I thought we passed Ishmael in the hallway. At his age, he could use the practice.”

Gale coughed as he slid out of his upper robe. He left it and Quetz, who’d been wrapped around his neck, both puddled on the floor by Fenris before turning to face her. For some reason, he looked rather flustered.

“Hand to hand,” he suggested, raking a hand through his hair and pushing it out of his eyes. “Some magic?”

“Afraid?” Ione asked. There was a cocky cant to her stance as Aponi alit from her ear to land on Gale's crumpled coat next to Quetz, a smart thing to do considering their plans.

“I wouldn't want to hurt you,” Gale returned smoothly. His lithe form was even more visible now that he had abandoned the loose and concealing outer garment.

Ione had all of a moment to admire him – long legs and arms, well-muscled but not bulky – before he launched himself into the duel without any sort of announcement. She grinned and leapt backward, bringing up an arm to block the warning blow. Adrenaline began an excited pump through her veins, and Ione grinned. This was what she’d been missing.

They briefly collided, and Ione felt the prickle of Gale's magic ram into hers. It was powerful, seething beneath the surface, and her own rose up to meet it. She felt aether coil around her body, reaching into the surrounding air with questing tendrils. And Gale's pulsed like a heartbeat in the silence, the rise and fall of the ocean waves. It was stronger than her own; she knew that it would be. But he was keeping a tight rein for her sake. Ione didn’t know whether to be grateful or insulted.

Instead, she settled for attacking.

She whipped around to face him, taking a step and then feinting right. He went to block her left instead, but Ione wasn’t there. She was once more turning right but at an angle this time, going in and down with an attempt to swipe out his feet from beneath him. But Gale had already slipped away within the heartbeat it took to get there. He kicked out at her, but she slid to the side and did her level best to catch his leg in the hopes of overbalancing him.

Gale was much too quick, however. He grinned as he used her reach for him to grab her wrist and put it into a lock that would’ve certainly held her had she not seen Malcolm do exactly the same thing. Ione moved to stomped on his toes then and took the opening to step in closer instead of pulling back. Her arm twisted at the same time, effectively freeing her.

Meanwhile, her other hand shot to his chest, and her palm smacked into the junction between his ribs and his sternum just over his heart. The blow wasn’t enough to even leave a bruise, but she knew it couldn’t have felt good. Particularly when she saw his eyes tighten. Still, it was sufficient for him to back up a step, especially when she followed through with a strike from her left hand.

Gale dodged it effortlessly and sidestepped to her right. Ione was already twisting to face him when his own hand shot out, but she ducked under it. She promptly elbowed him in the stomach and then used her forearm to push him away at the same time that she danced backwards. He just leaned into the blow though and retaliated with a whip of aether that cut through the air. Ione jumped over it and landed on the balls of her feet. Only to immediately roll backwards at his open-palmed strike.

She was smirking as she came up again.

This was much too enjoyable. The feel of blood rushing through her veins. Heart pounding in her chest. The taste of the sandy dust from their movements. It was just too much fun. Especially after her sedentary time in the village. And truthfully, she did need the practice. She was already a bit winded, which meant that her conditioning had fallen all to hell during her lull in activity. And that really wouldn’t do. Not at all.

Malcolm would be running rings around her by this point. So would Ryder and even Raine. The only reason Gale wasn’t doing that was because he was too much of a gentleman. Too noble – ha! – to kick her when she was so much weaker than him. He wasn’t even channeling all that much of his aether. Certainly not as much as she’d felt during her fight with Dharva. He barely felt stronger than Grayson at the moment, and that was downright insulting.

“You’re holding back,” she accused after inhaling a gulp of air.

Gale shrugged. “Maybe.”

The admission was far too guilty for her liking. Ione snapped forward and struck out with the hard edge of her hand, just below her littlest finger. She let her magic flow over her skin and hit him full force on the side, hard enough that he grunted. That would certainly leave a mark for the next morning.

She just smirked as he jerked back. “You don’t have to do that.” Ione darted out again.

But Gale danced away. “I don’t want to sound insulting here--”

“Too late,” Quetz chimed in from his nearby shirt.

“--but I’m a bit more powerful than you are, Ione,” he continued like he hadn’t heard.

Ione struck out at him again when he flicked a glance to his familiar. Connecting fast and hard with his shin, side, and sternum. Then, she moved in to hip throw him for good measure, but he slipped out of her reach just before she could.

“Come on,” Ione urged. “Fight back.”

“I don’t want to hurt you,” Gale sidestepped a kick that was a little too close to his groin.

“If you hurt me, that’s perfectly alright. It’s part of sparring,” she assured him. “I’m a big girl. I can take it.” Her lips pulled into a smirk once more. “Besides, I like it when the boys play rough. A little hard and fast never hurt anybody.”

Gale swallowed thickly, but he was smart enough not to look away this time. A good thing since she aimed a strike at his solar plexus that would’ve left a very interesting fist-shaped bruise. He dodged again when she followed it up with not one kick but two. And Ione chased him around the area for another minute before he finally shook his head.

“If you’re sure,” he began.

But she cut off the rest. “I am.”

He didn’t reply. Instead, she felt a brief prickle down her spin, and then, his aether suddenly spiked. It coiled even more tightly around him. Palpable and with a frisson of air, a near aura that she could see from the corner of her eye when she turned her head slightly.

This was more like it.

He struck without warning, but Ione turned into the blow, letting his hand brush her chest. She used his flash of surprise to ram her knee into his thigh. However, his aether was like a shield, and her leg bounced off as if she hadn’t raised her own magic to solidify the attack. She had a second to feel her eyes widen in surprise before Gale smiled and stepped back.

Ione felt the stirring of air before she saw it. Quietly at first but then steadily and swiftly gaining in speed until it whipped around her with such force and ferocity that it began to push her back. Already, it’d lifted the sand from the floor and pulled it into a funnel. But every now and then, a little piece or three would escape and rocket words her. The wind was even fast enough to lift the small rocks that were scattered around the edge of the walls, launching them like the projectile bits of paper Toren had so loved to use in his slingshot. Ione didn’t even see the one that connected with her forehead right along her hairline; she only felt the sharp bite of pain and the trickle of liquid that the wind pushed back into her dark hair. Blowing so hard that it didn’t even allow the blood to bead properly.

Ione backpedalled and presented him with her least injured side as one hand did a quick and dirty swipe at the cut. It wasn’t that deep, but it wasn’t shallow either. And as the wind picked up in speed, she had a moment to think this might not have been such a good idea.

That, however, evaporated in an instant. Gale was suddenly on her. She danced to the side and sent out a retaliatory knife of aether. Gale caught it with his own magic and absorbed it effortlessly. He sent back his own flare of power that she had to roll to avoid, and he was already there when she found her feet. She dodged and deflected the jab to her ribs, only to feel her hand go numb at the force of the blow.

That was a bad sign.

And an even worse one was the follow-up. The attack that she missed entirely from the sting of sand in her eyes that her aether wasn’t strong enough to prevent. She sucked in a choking breath at his strike and leaned away to hunch into the one just after it. That of course put her in perfect position for a throw, just like the one she had tried on Gale before. This one though was a significantly more successful move. And it worked beautifully. Caught her completely off guard.

Only both of them – Gale and she – had forgotten three key facts during the haze of their spar.

First of all, Ione though relatively tall for a woman was still much lighter in weight than Sabriel, his normal sparring partner. Second, aether raised around a body increases physical strength. Third, the wall was not that far in front of him. Certainly no great distance when the wind was billowing right towards it.

Ione flew. There was no other word to describe it. The veritable cyclone Gale had created all but picked her up and levitated her midair before chucking her at the near wall. She had only seconds to watch it surging towards her, just a few heartbeats to have her life debate whether or not it wanted to flash before her eyes.

Then, she was there.

And then, she wasn’t.

All Ione knew was that instead of a rock face rushing up to meet her, her head was rushing to meet the ground instead. She connected with the sand hard enough to see stars and likely would’ve hit even harder had a pair of arms not wrapped around her middle and ended her abrupt crash landing. Ione and her rescuer tumbled and skidded to stop after a few rolls, dust stirring around their forms. She could only blink into the body pressed against her face, head now cradled, and she felt him heave above her as though gasping for breath. Warmth and the scent of something smoke and woodsy trickled through to her throbbing brain, and Ione unconsciously inhaled even as her befuddled mind tried to make sense of what had just happened.

“I'm sorry,” a voice gasped from above her. “I thought… you’d avoid that. Are you alright?”

“Yeah?”

But it was more of a question. Like she couldn’t decided if she was or not.

She blinked at the sudden brightness around her. As though the lights had decided to increase on their own. As if he’d shifted to the side to look at her. She hadn't yet moved, heart thudding strangely in her chest. And honestly, she wasn't sure if it was due to the entirely too close miss with a wall of solid rock, the actual encounter with the ground, or something else entirely. It didn’t help that there were still arms around her either, an almost comforting warmth except for the fact that he was actually quite heavy.

Ione squirmed, and the arms reluctantly loosened. Somehow, it rang of déjà vu, though she couldn't remember precisely how. Something with bookcases? No, that wasn’t right. A place with bookcases. Lots of them. And a crazy man that blew up stuff. What was his name again? Kegan? Karen?

Kieran. That’s right. Her beloved sort of uncle but not really since Souya always took in strays like that. Only Kieran had stuck around for quite awhile. Most of Souya’s stuff tried to run away within the first day or so. And…

And what was she supposedly to be thinking about again? She couldn’t quite recall. Which might have had something to do with that throbbing, pounding, grinding sensation in her head. Gods, what was this floor made of? Steel sand or something? It shouldn’t have hurt that much.

Ione rubbed her forehead. As though that would actually make her feel better. But her fingers encountered a slick spot underneath the line of her hair. They were red when she pulled back to inspect them.

And suddenly, Gale was there, right in front of her. He was already reaching for her face, tilting her head closer to his shoulder and chest to inspect the damage. Ione felt her brain swim in her skull, but that was quickly forgotten after she sucked in a harsh breath. He really did smell good, and she nosed into his shirt and inhaled deeply, even as his fingers fluttered over her face and examined her injury.

“How badly does it hurt?” Gale asked, voice somehow both near and distant as she nuzzled closer and inhaled again.

What did he wash his clothes with? It was wonderful.

“Ione,” he prompted. “How badly?”

He moved to look her in the eyes. And wow, his were very green. A stark contrast to the attractive rush of red staining his face and the white-blond hair plastered to his face by sweat and a little something else.

“Hmm?”

Ione wasn't sure what he was asking. She was too busy trying to press her face into his hand, wanting to know if the rest of him smelled the same. It called to her, like catnip.

Then, a tingle started in her scalp, trickling over her like a soft fall of rain. Ione wanted to roll around in the sensation as it flowed over her skin. The faint feeling of pressure in her skull eased, and the heavy pounding became a dull ache. Gale's palm was warm against her cheek, his eyes impossibly and magically bright.

They were very close she belatedly noticed.

“I'm sorry,” Gale apologized again. He seemed to be doing that a lot. “I know the Arlens are supposed to be healers, but I'm not as good as Sabriel. And it’s a head wound; those are always tricky.”

Ione did a full body shake, starting at her head and working her way down. It was rather like Fenris after a dip in the stream when he wanted to get rid of the excess water. She felt clearer after that and clearer still at the continued tingle of his magic. Ione's fingers found his arm at some point, and she watched as they curled around his sleeve, flexing like a cat stretching its claws.

“Feels pretty good to me,” she replied thoughtlessly, too busy watching Aponi flutter worriedly nearby with her little antenna all but wagging. “You’re good.”

Gale really was something else when he blushed like that. A little boyish but adorable at the same time. A scarlet heat that started on the bridge of his nose, spread across the top of his cheeks and eventually flashed over his neck. Ione had the strangest urge to rub her face against his as she watched, wanting to know just how hot his skin burned. But the opportunity was stolen from her as Gale drew back, leaving only one hand braced against her back.

“It’s not serious, but your head might hurt a bit,” he said with obvious remorse.

His eyes flickered over her before darting to the two spirits who’d made their way over sometime in the last few minutes. Ione, for her part, belatedly realized that they were even there. She hadn’t even noticed earlier with her brain dying and all.

“Good going, Gale,” Quetz commented as she slithered up his leg to his chest and around his neck. “Next time, try throwing a boulder at her. Maybe she'll actually see one that coming.”

Gale looked properly chagrined. Even as Ione lifted a hand to feel the slight bump under her hair. It was still there, but the cut from earlier was now gone.

“It's not his fault,” she mumbled, clarity returning with agonizing slowness. “I was distracted.”

“Sure you were.” Quetz snickered, a strange sound for a snake to attempt. But she pulled it off easily.

Gale's hand dropped from Ione's back, but she swayed in her sitting position. It hastily came back, this time settling on her shoulder.

“Maybe you should get some rest,” he suggested with no small amount of concern.

He eyed her critically. Looking all too much like Ione’s mother that time Toren had given Jeredu a concussion. He was just quieter about it though and didn’t send her to bed without dinner.

Ione could only nod in numb agreement. Her mind was wonderfully absent of worry, but only because it was too befuddled to concentrate. Not exactly the way she wanted to take her mind off her thoughts and indecisions, but whatever worked she supposed.

She let him manhandle her to her feet without comment.

“Smooth, Ione. Real smooth,” someone drawled from her right elbow then.

Ione glanced down, unsurprised to find Fenris there. His nose bumped against her dangling arm.

“I was distracted,” she repeated a bit too defensively.

He sniffed, unimpressed by her excuse. “And after I was boasting about the talents of my human to Inari, you had to go and make a less than impressive collision with a wall.”

“Near-collision,” Ione corrected. And then, she focused on the earlier part of his sentence. “Wait... Inari?”

“I was hoping to meet you today,” another voice inserted, and Ione tracked the soprano to a place by Gale's feet.

A rather small fox looked up at her with a set of impossibly large ears and a pair of wise eyes set in a small, pointed face. Fur the color of dusky dunes sat sleek and smooth over a body no bigger than the average house cat. Ione thought that she was gorgeous, much in the way Kieran's miniature Gwydion was. Adorable even. Like her companion when he blushed.

“I’ve heard your name several times,” Ione replied after a heartbeat, “but it seems we've passed each other by.”

She wondered if it’d be wise to kneel to be closer to eye level. But then, Ione didn't know if she would be able to get back up again. The room was starting this dangerous tilt, and she worried it would spin at any minute. It left her rather disorientated.

“My dear Inari’s a free spirit. She doesn't stay as attached to me as Fenris does to you,” Gale inserted with clear fondness in his tone. Inari nearly preened at his glowing look that followed.

Had such a way with the ladies, this one.

Ione made a noncommittal sound of agreement in her throat. She was too busy watching the room whirl around in circles. Maybe she wasn't as okay as she’d thought she was. Or perhaps it was a combination of Kieran’s earlier explosion and meeting of her head with the sand of ridiculous hardness.

“Gale, stop standing around and gawking. Take Ione back to her room,” she heard a voice command then.

Ione glanced around in an attempt to figure out who’d said that. But the voice was coming from Gale's tunic again. Funny thing that, Gale's shirt talking. It seemed to do that a lot.

She barely felt it as a hand gripped her arm and started to steer her towards the door. Ione dumbly followed as she was led from the training room in a daze. She really, really wanted to sleep right now. That probably wasn't the best idea, but if she didn't sit, she was going to tip over and meet the ground again face to face. And that didn't sound like her idea of a good time.

Somehow, she navigated through the halls without tripping over her feet. That might’ve had something to do with the hand placed conveniently on her elbow and the arm around her shoulders, kindly guiding her. Her head was starting to pound again, and Ione groaned, the bright light pouring through the windows spiking through her eyes like knives. She felt more than saw Aponi land on the top of her head, little feet feeling at the enormous bump. Small as they were, Ione couldn’t help but believe someone was stomping up and down on her scalp.

“I suppose I’ll go find Sabriel.”

She recognized the voice as Inari’s and watched the fox scamper away before Gale could protest. Of course, Ione had been able to do much the same. It was just a small bump. No reason to be all broken up about it.

She said as much to Gale. He winced and applied another tingle of magic to her head.

“I didn't--”

“Stop that,” Ione interrupted before he could even finish, regaining enough of herself to know that she should find that annoying. “We were sparring. These things happen. If you say sorry again, I might have to hurt you.”

“That I’d like to see,” Fenris muttered, but they both still heard him. “What do you plan on doing? Bleed on him? Poke his eye out?”

There was a moment of stunned silence. One where Ione blinked at Fenris. Gale blinked at Ione. They blinked at each other.

Then, Gale let out a snort of laughter. He turned his face away from her to press it into his shoulder, without a free hand for the task.

“Fine then, I won't,” he agreed easily enough when he’d recovered. He tugged her carefully into a familiar hallway.

Ione just allowed it. She stumbled along with him, trying not to smile at his sudden rush of good humor.

“Next time,” she told him as they turned a corner, “I’ll be the one throwing a boulder at you.”

Gale outright laughed. And just like that, the tension that’d been steadily climbing, burst at the seams and vanished.

“So you say,” the blond replied teasingly. “So you say.”

Fenris just shook his head. “Never a dull moment,” he murmured and trotted along in their wake.

* * * * *

Coming up next time: chapter fourteen in which winter approaches, Ione runs into some painfully familiar faces, and discovers just how unstable and ice-covered lake can be. 

Comments are, as always, welcome and appreciated.