‘We’ she’d said, and it was keeping him awake. Knuckles grazing the smooth, wooden planks beneath his bed, he lay there draped across the mattress all the same.
Talyn had come to think of Shade as a friend, or at least somebody he could be around. She was polished obsidian, the kind that made lethal, light-as-air arrowheads as well as the pretty baubles they sold in the Bazaar. And while he didn’t doubt her shiny, sharp edges, he knew her to be just as opaque. Faceted, beyond what drunken customers and tight-lipped co-workers might see.
She’d looked paler than he was used to seeing, limp and lethargic. Just a bit of blood loss and, nah, nothing to worry about at all. But it hadn’t taken much to get her talking. She had...