The Sleeper and the Silverblood

The Sleeper pulled her knees up to her chest as the silverblood faced her.

“Thank you,” Kitara murmured before Storm could open his mouth, “for saving my life. If you hadn’t come tonight—”

“They would have taken you,” he murmured. “Assuming you didn’t die first.”

She inclined her head once. “Probably.”

He rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Stars, Kit, I’m so sorry—”

“Explain to me what provoked it,” she interrupted. “I need…context.”

Storm looked up, bracing his arm on the back of the couch. “After I finished talking to Devika,” he said, “I found a file with a classification I’d never heard of—”

“The Dark Star Directive.”

He nodded. “And it was about you. Your intake paperwork, your father’s family, all of it. And since Ostragarn targeted your father for being part of the Ninthëvel family, while my mom was trying to help her friend, she was only…collateral damage.”

She met his eyes with a steady gaze. “That’s probably true.”

“I snapped,” he admitted. “I went to see her in Valëtyria before I went to Myragos. It got to me. I lost all rationality for a minute. And then all I could think was I needed you to confirm, I needed to hear it from you, and I saw you sitting in that bar, like you belonged there, like…”

“A Fallen cavorting with Netherlings.”

He grimaced. “Yes.”

“And suddenly, you wondered if everything I’d told you was a lie. If I knew all along about your mom, if my parents really did try to kill her. If I was a mole, a traitor to the organization, if your father had been right about everything, whether my explanation about Devika and Phoenix was bullshit.”

His shoulders sagged. “That and worse.”

Kitara nodded, averting her gaze. “I’ll tell you everything. You deserve that much. Given how much I’ve shared outside the Sleeper org, this might not matter, but I need you to know…telling you is treason.”

His brow furrowed. “How?”

She shrugged. “I’m the best-kept secret in the AIDO. And that secret is classified at the highest level. There’s a reason that file is buried in Myragos.” Storm opened his mouth to interject, but she held up a hand. “I’m not avoiding explaining. I’m emphasizing the severity of the situation…and what it means if you tell anyone else what I tell you.”

The crease in his forehead deepened, but he nodded. “Okay.”

Kitara sighed, and then all the secrets she had held for so long spilled out. “When they brought me into the AIDO, the High Council debated for days whether to let me live. I didn’t know what the Ninthëvel name meant to Valëtyrians, not until I got here.”

Storm mulled over this for a moment. “Don’t take this the wrong way but…why didn’t they execute you? Or imprison you, at least?”

“Phoebe. She vehemently opposed eliminating me. She was friends with my mom.”

“Even after your mom Fell?”

Kitara sat forward. “Remember the incident you found? The explosion of Fallen formula in Valëtyria? My mom was there.”

Storm’s eyes went round. “Your mom was one of those Fallen?”

Kitara nodded. “That’s why her profile details are so weird.”

“Stars, you said the High Council covered it up…”

“They did. Most of the Fallen during that incident were nobodies…people they could relocate or silence in other ways to avoid the backlash. But Moriah…they couldn’t do that with her, not when she was about to accept a High Council position. It was simpler to just…report she died.”

“And…your dad?”

“I think they’d been communicating before that,” Kitara confessed. “And my mom seized the opportunity to be with him.”

“She knew who he was?”

“I believe so. And if the High Council had focused more on a Fallen naturally conceiving and birthing a child, rather than the ancestral family of said child, they might have realized my mother’s stagnant Fallen power didn’t impact me at all. I think Phoebe suspected my mom was in a relationship. My existence didn’t surprise her like it did the others.” Kitara spared him a wry smile. “Still, she argued my…Fallen half probably neutralized any scarier Ninthëvel traits, and they found no obvious evidence to the contrary. I opted not to correct them.”

Storm leaned back against the couch. “Geez, Kit.”

“The compromise was the Dark Star Directive,” Kitara continued. “I was sworn to never reveal anything about either of my parents—Moriah’s Fallen status or my dad’s family name. They registered me as a Fallen-Valorn hybrid and gave me the surname ’Vakrenade.’ If they suspected in any way I might turn on them, I’d be eliminated. Trust me,” she said bitterly, “when you’re ten years old and the conditions of your survival are laid out before you in graphic detail, it’s not something you forget easily.”

“I would imagine not,” Storm replied, horrified. “No wonder you were so freaked out when you realized I could sense you even while invisible—that’s because of your dad, right?”

Kitara nodded. “I thought it was only a matter of time till you mentioned it to the wrong person, and I’d be dead.”

“But they still let you be a Sleeper?”

“Who I am—what I can do—makes me particularly good at it. They tested and trained me twice as hard as any other Sleeper in the program to ensure my loyalty.”

“Which doubly ensured your silence,” Storm mused. “Considering how classified the Sleeper program is.”

Kitara nodded. “Even now, I’m not sure how far they would go to conceal the truth of my existence. This is why I don’t mindspeak unless I have to. If someone else has access to what I know…if they learned those secrets, I’d be eliminated, along with anyone who found out what I know. They wouldn’t even go through the charade of a discussion. No one would know when or where or how, you’d just be…gone.”

“I don’t think they could do that with me,” he reasoned.

“Maybe. But your father would keep you locked in Valëtyria until the end of time as an alternative.”

“Does Devika know any of this?”

“No.”

Storm raised an eyebrow. “Are you planning to tell her?”

“Not unless absolutely necessary.”

“She’s digging into the Ninthëvel family, probably as we speak,” he pointed out. “And she’s not exactly stupid.”

“This goes beyond Sleeper tenets, Storm. I’m telling you because you found the Dark Star Directive. Telling Devika endangers her, and I won’t do that.”

“Guess telling me is only fair then, since I endangered you,” he snarked, though the joke fell flat.

Still, Kitara offered him a half-smile. “Why do you think I’m not more pissed about what happened in the dark strip?”

Storm sighed. “Fair enough.” He scrubbed a hand down his face. “I’m so sorry. I can’t imagine what it’s been like, bearing the weight of all of this alone.”

“Lonely,” she conceded. “But I have no choice. I keep this secret for the sake of my own survival and everyone else’s, especially Dev’s. You have to understand that.”

“I do,” he said quietly. “Because I was the one who put you at risk.”

“You did,” Kitara conceded, “but…not in the way you think.” She looked away. “This started long before last night. The VIP Netherlings—whoever they report to—started to notice your interest in me. Probably put it together you showed up a lot when I was around and started asking questions. Then Itzal sent Scarlet and Jamal after me. All of that happened before last night.”

“Still, if I hadn’t—”

“Storm,” she interrupted again, “Ostragarn knew I survived my family’s assassination and put a bounty on me decades ago.”

He glanced up, startled. “What?”

“It’s why I don’t think Baylen is an enemy,” Kitara said. “He was the one who told me. There’s been a price on my head since the day the AIDO took me out of my parents’ house. That’s why Itzal sent them to find me. I don’t know what, exactly, he wants from me, but…now he knows for sure I’m alive. He probably knows I’m a Ninthëvel because it’s why I’m wanted in the first place, not because you picked a fight in the dark strip.” Goosebumps rippled over her skin at the thought of the General knowing her identity. “I have no illusions, Storm. The Ninthëvel name is a curse in Valëtyria. I don’t expect you to disregard decades of hatred for my family name because of our…partnership.”

“Kit…” Storm lifted a hand to reach for her, then thought better of it and dropped it into his lap again.

She pretended not to notice. “That’s everything. It’s why I’ve continued to work with Baylen, why I disappeared from the bar that one night…it’s not just Valëtyrians knowing my identity I have to worry about now; it’s Ostragarn too.”

“Still, I shouldn’t have made assumptions. God knows I should know better by now.”

“Thank you,” she whispered, absentmindedly rubbing the goosebumps on her arms.

Storm noted the movement, then half-rose to lean over the back of the couch.

“What are you doing?” Kitara asked, tilting her head.

He straightened with a spare blanket in hand, then draped it around her shoulders. “You get cold when you’re stressed.”

She blinked in surprise, first at the blanket, then at the statement. “What?”

Storm settled beside her again. “When something’s bothering you, you get cold.”

“How do you know that?”

The corner of his mouth tilted up in a rueful half-smile. “I know I’ve done a shit job proving this, but I can be observant sometimes.”

Heat suffused her face, and Kitara dropped her eyes to her lap as she pulled the blanket closer around her. “Thanks. Again.”

“You’re welcome.”

“What changed your mind?” she asked, running her fingers over the soft weave of the blanket. “About…me, I guess. You risked so much to come back for me, especially after what happened with your dad. Why?”

“If I’d taken a breath between leaving Valëtyria and going to find you, I think I would have recognized my stupidity earlier,” he muttered, almost to himself. “Even as the Guardians caught me coming back across the perimeter, I was already regretting the way I handled you. The things I said. The danger I put you in—” He hesitated. “Then, as I explained what I found in Myragos to ’Dair, ’Dec, and Zayne, I realized Ostragarn would probably be after Fallen, which meant you. I panicked and tried to contact you to warn you…”

“The phone calls,” Kitara said, suddenly understanding.

He nodded. “Sorry. I know how you feel about me blowing up your phone, but I didn’t want to leave a voicemail or text.”

“Usually a wise choice for sensitive information, even on encrypted devices.” She eyed him for a moment. “That still doesn’t answer my question, though. Whether you changed your mind or not…why?”

Storm hesitated, searching for the right words. “After I saw you last night…I realized I’ve been lying to myself. About how I feel about you. And that scared me, Kit. It scared me because, for the briefest of moments…” He faltered. “For the briefest of moments, I didn’t care about what happened to my mom. That your family might have ripped mine apart.”

He huffed a humorless laugh. “I didn’t care, Kit. That’s how much you affect me. And in that moment, it broke me. Because I knew then I was ruined for anyone but you. I would destroy everything, betray everything I care about if you ever asked it of me. My family, my career, everything. In that moment, I realized I couldn’t even pretend to hate any part of you. Because the truth is… His voice took on a low, rough quality. “You somehow became everything to me. And I can no longer pretend the entirety of my soul doesn’t burn for you.”

Tears shone in Kitara’s eyes. “Stars, Storm,” she choked out.

“I think I fell for you the moment you walked into Kenric’s office,” he whispered. “When Devika told me what happened to you tonight, I knew—even if I charged in to face Itzal himself, even if I died in the attempt, I could never leave you there alone.”

Emotion clogged Kitara’s throat, making it difficult for her to speak. “I never wanted to hide anything from you.”

“I believe you.”

Three little words. Three words that might seem so insignificant to some, but to her, they meant everything.

Her tears spilled over.

He leaned forward, risking touching a hand to her face to wipe them away, sending trails of sensitivity skittering down her neck and throat. “I have no right,” he faltered. “You deserve so much better after the way I’ve behaved.” His thumb caressed her cheek, his eyes searching hers. “You are everything…everything I didn’t know I needed—not until I found you and nearly lost you again. Please tell me I didn’t lose you anyway because of my arrogant stupidity. I’ll spend the rest of my life seeking your forgiveness if that’s what it takes. But please…forgive me.”

Despite the circumstances, Kitara smiled through her tears. “The rest of your life is a long time.”

Storm caught and held her gaze with steady, unwavering intensity. “I know.”

The way he spoke those two words, so simple yet so full of promise, could have brought a nation to its knees.

She leaned into his palm. “It won’t be easy. You have an excuse for your reaction, but not how you handled it. I might not—I want to trust you, Storm, I do…but that makes it hard.”

His troubled silver eyes met her bright green ones—quicksilver and emerald fire. “I can’t blame you.”

She touched her forehead to his. “You’re an idiot,” she whispered, the words laced with such warmth he couldn’t mistake them for anything but affectionate. “A stubborn, egotistical idiot.”

Storm stilled, uncertain. “I know,” he repeated.

Kitara exhaled a deep sigh, while a half-smile quirked one side of her mouth. “Well, I suppose that means I need to keep you close to prevent you doing anything else too idiotic,” she deadpanned. “Like accidentally stumble into Ostragarn or face a pack of Netherlings alone—”

Storm didn’t let her finish, instead closing the distance between them to claim her lips with his. Her world lit up with sensation. Like silver lined every cloud looming overhead and showering stars drenched her skin with pinpricks of light. All of the longing, her worries, her fear, her doubts—all of it melted against his mouth.

Kitara wrapped her arms around his neck, and his hand tangled in her hair as he kissed her deeper, his mouth insistent on hers. His aura enveloped her, flooding her senses, and she couldn’t have pulled away if she tried.

“I forgive you,” Kitara rasped, serious again. “Because you’re right. It’s you. Despite your best efforts, you’ve somehow become my everything.” She drew back for a moment, meeting his gaze again. “You ever pull a stunt like that again though,” she warned, only half-teasing, “I will stab you.”

He huffed a laugh. “Those are better odds than I had reason to expect.”

“As long as we’re clear. No more jumping to conclusions, no more accosting me. If we have an issue, you’d better try talking to me first.”

“I will,” he said somberly. “I promise.”

When she nodded, his lips found hers again, and Kitara let herself fall.

He kissed her as if she were oxygen and he couldn’t breathe, as if he were drowning and she had thrown him a lifeline, as if his very soul were at stake and only she could save him.

And in that moment, Kitara knew she would burn down the world to offer that salvation, even if it meant her own damnation.

After a moment, Storm drew back and touched his forehead to hers. “You need rest,” he murmured. “I was serious about that. I can take the couch, and—”

Instinctively, Kitara gripped the front of his t-shirt. “Don’t you dare leave me now.”

That startled a smile out of him. “No?”

“No.” She closed her eyes, unable to stifle the memory of the red ones reflecting the inevitability of her fate earlier in the evening. “Stay with me.”

Storm’s expression softened. “I’ll go wherever you want me, Kit.” He stood and drew her to her feet, careful to keep the blanket around her shoulders.

Kitara leaned on him as he led her into his bedroom. After settling her into his massive bed, Storm flicked the lights off and crawled in beside her.

Exhaustion encroached on Kitara’s consciousness. She curled into Storm’s side. “I’ll never admit this in broad daylight,” she murmured sleepily, “but I’m glad you didn’t listen. After. When I told you not to come back to the dark strip.”

She could almost hear his smile. “Despite my best efforts, I couldn’t stay away from you for long. Still can’t.” His words were soft but they resonated within her, warming her. “I’m not going anywhere, Kit.”

She snorted. “You’ve made that clear from the beginning. You never stay where you’re supposed to.”

“Glad you’re coming around to my way of thinking.”

“Stubborn man,” she muttered, but she smiled.

“One of my many faults,” he countered with similar amusement. “Get some sleep, Kit. I’ll be here in the morning.”

She couldn’t have protested if she wanted to. The solidity of him coupled with the warm rhythm of his aura chased the chill of fear away.

Avensäel.

Ninthëvel.

Whatever they were, whatever lay ahead, it could wait until tomorrow.