Asunder

only his music—was gone. Now he was notable for living with, and frequently kissing, the newsoul, and that forced him to take a side. Mine.

“I’m on your side,” he said again. “But I have to admit the idea of being in something is frightening.”

I pushed my notebooks to the sofa and crossed the floor to Sam. His cheeks were warm beneath my palms, and stubble scraped my skin. I wanted to— something. Thank him. Reassure him. Make him know how much I appreciated him and cared about him. Express everything I felt, but nothing that found its way to my tongue felt big enough. So I brushed a kiss over his mouth and stayed silent. His hands tightened on my hips.

Moments spiraled between us, ripe with words unsaid, until finally I pulled away and gathered up my notebooks to work at the table. He’d relaxed a little; that was what I’d wanted.

“What are the sylph?” A book slid from my pile and hit the floor with a loud slap.

“Shadows?” Sam bent and retrieved the book smoothly, and sat across the table from me. “Fire? I’m not sure what you’re asking. They’re just sylph.”

“But they’re—” I dropped to the chair. “Are they like people? Do they think? Have emotions?

Societies?” They seemed like creatures with reason in the videos we’d just watched. They’d made choices.

Choices I didn’t understand.

“I don’t know.” Sam eyed me askance. “What are you thinking?”

“I’m not sure. I mean, we know centaurs live in communities, right? They have language, traditions, and hierarchy. They go on hunts together.”

He nodded.

“And trolls? They’re the same?”

“Different, but yes. They live in communities, too.”

“What about dragons?” I didn’t want to ask him about dragons, all things considered, but I was chasing a point. An idea. A question.

“From what we’ve been able to tell, yes. And rocs nest with a mate and care for their chicks until they’re old enough, like eagles do. Unicorns live in herds. They’re not human, none of them, but they do seem to be more.” He studied me with those dark eyes. “You’re trying to figure out sylph.”

“Aren’t you?” I glanced out the window, where ranks of sylph still guarded the building. “We know so much about everything else surrounding Range, but not sylph. We see them in swarms sometimes, or off by themselves, but we don’t know if they stay with the same group or just join up with any other sylph they meet. We don’t know if they eat, how they think, whether they reproduce. Are there a limited number? We haven’t been able to kill them, but what about other creatures? Centaurs are intelligent. Can they kill sylph?”

Sam just stared at me like I’d grown a second head. “I don’t know. Sylph are all over the world, rather than generally keeping to one region, like we do, or dragons or centaurs or trolls.”

“There are bears and flies all over the world, too, but sylph aren’t like bears or flies.”

“No,” he agreed. “They’re much different.”

“But how? Please tell me you at least understand the questions I’m asking, even if you don’t know the answers.”

“Of course.” Sam frowned, eyebrows drawing together to carve the thinking line. “Why wouldn’t I understand your questions?”

Lightning struck inside my chest. He couldn’t even remember that sometimes he didn’t. It was okay, though. Most people couldn’t remember things about the temple, or Janan, or understand why I asked so many questions. I said gently, “What’s inside the temple, Sam?”

“Nothing. It’s empty.”

“How do you know that? Have you been inside?”

He shook his head, looking confused. “There’s no door.”

My fingers skimmed the silver box I’d taken from Meuric during my trip into the temple. The door device was too dangerous to leave behind. Doors could be created, and the temple wasn’t empty—not completely. I’d stabbed Meuric and left him there, and I’d taken a stack of books from inside the temple; there were still more there.

Sam followed the motion of my hand. “What is that?”

“A key, I think.” I waved his next question away. We’d had this conversation a few times already. He just couldn’t remember. “And in your life before this one, you went north?”

“Yes. There were dragons.” A shudder passed through him.

I wished I hadn’t brought it up.

“But before the dragons, you said you came upon a huge white wall.”

Slowly, he nodded. “There was snow everywhere. The wall was pitted with weather. It seemed familiar, but strange, too.” The haze vanished from his eyes. “We were talking about sylph.”

No, we were talking about why he might not understand my questions.

And knowing what I did about reincarnation, what entity was responsible for it, I could make a pretty good guess as to why Sam—and everyone else—struggled with certain subjects.

Janan didn’t want them to know.

Janan didn’t want them to question.

Janan kept a huge secret in that temple, in those books, and somehow the sylph were connected to it.

I just had to find out what it was—and use it against him.

5 WORDS

AFTER MORE RESEARCH and note consolidation than I could stand, I slumped on the rickety bed to check my SED. It had been chirping with messages all morning; they were from Sarit, asking me to call.

I shifted to the communicator function.

“Ana!” Sarit’s voice squeaked with joy. “What have you been doing all day? I’ve been waiting and waiting.”

I giggled. Sarit was amazing. No other oldsoul would complain about waiting. Everyone else, Sam included, was ridiculously patient. “You know Sam. There’s always more work with him.”

Sam glanced up from the sofa where he was writing in his diary. He looked adorably baffled about why he was getting blamed for something, and I winked.

“Oooh.” Sarit drew out the sound. “Work. I’m sure that’s all you’ve been doing.”

“Well.” I giggled again, remembering earlier when we’d taken a break to cook lunch, and later had to eat burned rice and vegetables because we’d been too busy kissing to remember to stir.

“That’s what I thought.” Sarit laughed. “I can’t wait for you to come home. I want to see the flute and hear the duets. Just the idea is making me wilt.”

“That’s why you’re one of my favorite people.” I leaned back on my pillow. “But tell me about the fifty thousand messages you left. What’s so important?”

“Okay, there are two things. First, did you feel the earthquake?”

“Earthquake? No.” I glanced at Sam, my eyebrow raised. “Did you feel an earthquake?”

He shook his head.

“Neither of us did,” I said to Sarit. “Was it big? Is everyone okay?”

“Oh, yeah.” She sounded breezy. “Everyone’s fine. It was small, really. There are always earthquakes in Range, though most are too tiny to feel. But you know how everyone gets. They’re all wishing Rahel were still here; she looked after the geological and geothermal aspects of Range. It just makes people feel safer to have someone like her saying there’s no danger.”

“Ah.” I shifted, hating when anyone mentioned a darksoul. It wasn’t that I wanted people to pretend they’d never been here, but friends’ pain was too sharp. “What was the second thing?”