Skykeepers

He shifted and looked away. “We need to talk about that.”

“And by ‘that’ I take it you mean the sex.”

He stopped in the dirt track and turned to face her squarely. He met her eyes, but his expression was closed now, giving away little of the man within. “What happened last night was amazing, but it went way farther than I’d intended. Too far. We need to back away from . . . from that aspect of things going forward. Skywatch is a pretty big place, but there’s not much privacy. I think it’d be better if we agreed to keep what happened last night just between the two of us.”

She stood a moment, staring at him until he broke eye contact and looked away. When he did, she let out her breath on a hiss, unable to believe that somehow, under the most abnormal circumstances she could’ve conceived of, she’d managed to find herself on the losing end of the Let’s not make this into a bigger deal than it really is speech. “You’re kidding me,” she said hollowly. “You’ve got to be abso-fucking- lutely kidding me.”

A muscle worked at the corner of his jaw, but all he said was, “I’m sorry.”

She told herself it was better this way, that the hints of anger she’d caught from him were a warning sign suggesting maybe he wasn’t the solid, likable guy he seemed. More, she told herself not to cling, not to let him think it had meant anything more to her than it apparently had to him. He’s just another hunter, she told herself, for the first time realizing that she’d inadvertently fallen into another of her old patterns by opening herself to a man who valued the chase and capture more than the long term. In this case, granted, the chase had been finding her, the capture her rescue, but still, once he’d gotten her, he’d realized he didn’t really want her all that much.

What was it about her that attracted the hunters? she wondered on a spurt of self-directed disgust.

More, why did she continue to be attracted to them? Sure, those men tended to be smooth and dangerous, tended to know their lines and moves, which she supposed explained the attraction. But once they’d caught their prey, they moved on, leaving the tattered remains behind. She knew that, damn it. She shouldn’t have been surprised—been there, done that more times than she wished to count, even with Saul, whom she’d picked precisely because he hadn’t looked like a hunter on the surface.

But, logical or not, she was surprised to hear it from Michael, not the least because, even as they stood there faced off opposite each other, electricity hummed in the air between them. She knew damn well the attraction wasn’t one-sided. That couldn’t be her imagination.

Could it?

Summoning anger, more at herself than him, she said stiffly, “That’s fine. Let’s just forget it happened.”

Michael was watching her steadily, and she had a feeling he saw more in her face than she meant him to. But he said only, “That might not be so easy.”

She narrowed her eyes. “I’ve got a long-term contraceptive implant, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“No.” His flinch suggested he hadn’t thought that far. “I was more thinking about the others.

They’re probably going to try to throw us together. Not just because of what happened last night—

which I edited for public consumption, by the way—but because I’ve been hung up on finding you for a while. Ever since I saw your picture, in fact.”

“I’ll try to take that as a compliment,” she said, though it wasn’t easy.

“And then there are your dreams,” he continued.

“You imagined me before you met me.”

“I dreamed of a dark-haired, green-eyed man. That’s a coincidence.”

“There’s no such thing as coincidence,” he said, and it sounded like he was quoting something.

“There’s only the will of the gods.” The words echoed in Ambrose’s voice, as well. He’d been fond of saying things like that. Okay, technically he hadn’t said things like that. He’d said those exact words, time and again.

Sasha exhaled, feeling stretched very thin. “So which is it? Are we cooling things off, or did the gods themselves intend for us to be a couple?” Because that had to be where he was going with this.

“We’re cooling it,” he grated between clenched teeth, the obvious tension in his body belying his apparent conviction.

“Fine. Whatever.” She looked along the track, then back toward the compound. “You want to head back in? I don’t think I’m in the mood to walk anymore.” What she really meant was that she wasn’t in the mood to walk with him.

“Sasha . . .” He trailed off. Lifted a shoulder. “I’m sorry. We shouldn’t be putting all this on you at once.”

She had a feeling that wasn’t what he’d been about to say. When he didn’t continue, she shrugged irritably, hating that she’d let him matter too quickly. “I’m figuring out that you guys don’t have much of a choice, given the present circumstances. You know, ‘When in the triad years’ and all that.”

Michael stopped dead, his face draining. “You know the prophecy?”

“From Ambrose. He said my mother taught it to him.” She paused, unnerved by his expression.

“Why?”

“Because we’ve been busting our asses trying to find the whole thing, hoping to hell it’ll tell us what to expect next month, during the winter solstice.” Michael paused. Swallowed. “Do you know the rest of it?”

Instinct told her to lie, but the terrible hope etched in his face forced the words. “ ‘In the triad years, the daughter of the sky will defy love, conquer death, and find the lost son.’ ” She hesitated, then forced herself to go all the way. Taking a deep breath, she said, “My mother said I was the daughter of the sky. According to her, the triad prophecy is about me.”

CHAPTER NINE

After that announcement, Sasha quickly found herself the center of an all-hands-on-deck meeting in the main room. Michael sat her on one end of the big sofa and stood behind her as though guarding her —or perhaps making sure she didn’t bolt. Then he had her repeat what she’d told him about the library and, more important, the prophecy.

“ ‘In the triad years, the daughter of the sky will defy love, conquer death, and find the lost son,’ ” Strike repeated thoughtfully. “And you say your mother taught it to Ambrose?”

Sasha nodded. “That’s what he told me, anyway. She made him repeat it over and over again until he had it memorized, and then asked for his blood vow that he would teach it to me.” The memory pinched with the sense that, in turning away from Ambrose, she’d failed the mother she’d never known. She’d thought she was doing the right thing by protecting herself from him. How was she supposed to know he’d been telling the truth?

“What else did he say about your mother?” Strike pressed.

“Nothing, really. He always called her ‘Lady.’ ” A shiver collected within Sasha as she wondered whether the endearment had actually been something more. Like a title.“You guys don’t have a . . . a nobility, I guess you’d call it?” The question felt like a huge leap. It was her first overt acknowledgment that her mother, too, might have come from Skywatch. Even that she herself might’ve been here as a baby. She’d been born two years before the massacre. It was possible.

“Only the queen, really,” Jox said, “and her kids are accounted for.” The royal winikin frowned.

“We’ve been over and over the records, trying to figure out who Ambrose might have been. But back then, the Nightkeepers were pretty scattered. The royals, advisers, instructors, and other key magi lived here year- round, along with the students, but most of the others had homes off-site. Everybody gathered here on the cardinal days, but there might’ve been a thousand or more people total. So none of us necessarily knew everyone by sight. And what records we kept were badly damaged during the massacre.”

She let out a long breath, disappointment quashing the quick stir of a hope she’d barely even acknowledged. “So we might never know who I am. Assuming I’m someone.”