Bastion of Sun

CHAPTER FOUR

Light Versus Dark

Outside, Ayva whisked across the alley clutching the flask tightly. The others followed wordlessly. She felt their air of confusion as she set the bottle with its cork stopper down firmly in a crook of marble near a staircase. She then twisted to eye the stocky man behind her.

As usual, Zane wore a loose black shirt beneath his dark red leather vest, a gift from Ezrah. His face bore scruff from the days of travel, but with his blond hair lying flat for once, and dressed in his fine, if dusty, attire, he looked oddly distinguished—especially compared to when she'd first met him, a ragged-looking thief full of boiling anger. She hadn't seen his rage much lately, but she supposed it was a good thing. Last time he'd nearly brought down Shadow's Corner in an attempt to save his sister from Darkeye, a menacing thief-lord. The name alone inspired her stomach to turn circles, but if Gray were correct, Darkeye was dead. He had died at Faye's hands, no less, a woman she loathed more than... Well, anyone. Faye was her Sunha too. She still felt a bitter connection. Faye had trained her as they'd made their treacherous journey across the desert toward Farbs. She taught her about Farhaven and its many dangers, only to betray them to Darkeye when she and Darius had attempted to save Zane's sister from the thief-lord of the Underbelly. Could it be true? Could Darkeye be dead at Faye's hands? She shook her head, clearing the thought.

Zane wore a blank look now, only one brow mildly arched as if he were watching someone struggle and debating to help. "Might I ask what you're doing?"

She pointed. "Use fire and blow it up."

Zane's thick brows drew down to make an even ridge on his forehead—it was the look of mild annoyance. "I'm not angry," he said flatly. "Far from it, in fact. Besides, it doesn't work that way. Only our fearless leader can thread on command. You should know that."

"Can't you get angry?"

While Zane didn't roll his eyes, his look was what her father would give Ayva when she was being particularly obstinate.

"Shall I kick your shin?"

"Only if you want me to kick yours back," Zane replied, grunting.

Ayva sighed, and turned. She cast out her hands, trying to feel sun pouring through her from above. She felt her arms warm and golden light poured through her, as if the city were a conduit for her power. The flask rattled. She closed her eyes. The rattling grew, sun hot on her skin, until she opened her eyes with a gasp.

The flask sat, unperturbed.

Zane knelt and grabbed it.

He tossed it to Ayva and she gasped in pain. The glass seared her fingers and she tossed it from hand to hand like a miniature hot sun. "Well done," he remarked. "A nice piping hot cup of Brisbane and a few biscuits sounds delicious."

She growled and he smirked.

Hannah cleared her throat. They both looked to her. "Maybe we were meant to have it."

"Meant to have it?" Ayva asked. "I think the real Helga and Moris were meant to have it. We just stole it... or lied and took it, which I'm pretty sure is the same thing," she added.

Hannah didn't back down though. "You were the one that lead us here, Ayva. How do you explain that? Maybe it's fate after all."

"Fate to keep a bottle of poison?"

"You don't know if it's poison," Zane said.

"What else could it be? You heard what she said, 'not meant for common consumption.' I'm pretty certain that's shorthand for 'this is poison.'"