The Sleeper and the Silverblood

If Storm noticed anything odd about her response, he didn’t comment. He stared at an unidentified stain on the carpet of her living room for a long moment, mulling over her answers. Kitara gave him the space, letting him work through whatever thoughts spun in his mind.

Finally, he cleared his throat, his gaze still fixed on the floor. “What happened tonight at the bar? With that guy?”

Kitara toyed with a loose thread of her sleeve. She couldn’t tell him everything, not without revealing her origins. “It’s…complicated,” she hedged. “But the short version? He knows who I am. What I am.”

Storm’s head snapped up. “Wait, what? How?”

Kitara recounted Jamal’s animosity and Baylen’s interference, finishing with, “After Jamal left…Baylen essentially told me verbatim the same story I just told you—which isn’t common knowledge. There’s a reason the AIDO has it locked down so tight.”

Realization dawned on Storm’s face. “That’s why you left so…quickly?”

Kitara nodded.

“How does he—Baylen—know any of this?”

“He says he looked into me, but I don’t know how he put it together.”

Storm rubbed his jaw, considering. “Your aura, probably. It was only a matter of time before someone else started wondering about the newcomer with an aura like a miniature sun.”

She snorted, grateful for the misdirection. “It’s not my aura, Storm. That’s not how he knew.”

“But it’s so…obvious—”

“Only to you,” she interrupted. “My aura isn’t any more remarkable than anyone else’s.”

The silverblood took a sharp breath. “What do you mean? Isn’t it possible someone else—”

“Because I feel it too, okay? That’s how I know.” Kitara huffed a sigh. “The first night you came in with Declan, it was like a goddamn freight train crashed through the door.”

He blinked. “You feel—my aura feels like that to you?”

She nodded once, watching his expression with a wary gaze.

“What does it mean?” Bewildered, Storm leaned back against the couch and ran a hand through his hair.

“I don’t know.” She lacked quite a bit of knowledge these days.

“Okay,” Storm said slowly. “So…then why did this guy approach you?”

“He watches newcomers. Heard me make a snarky comment about the Maker’s VIP friends, then made contact.” She toyed with her lip. “And…there’s something I’ve left out of my reports.”

“Which was?” A little of his old resentment clouded Storm’s eyes.

She noticed. “I didn’t include it because I wasn’t sure there was any merit to it. Baylen thinks the Doruri—the Fallen—are what the General’s after.”

“That doesn’t make sense,” Storm argued, shaking his head. “Ostragarn is looking for something powerful, not powerless.”

“I thought so too, except I’ve been talking to Devika and, well…there are enough questions now that she’s trying to find out more. She even asked if you were looking into it from a different angle, given your sudden interest in the Fallen.”

Storm grimaced. “Right. That.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Your cover is still blown though. Honestly, I should pull you from the field.”

Kitara’s lips twisted into a smile. “But?”

Storm sighed. “But I won’t if you think it’s safe to continue…I trust your expertise. I owe you that at least. But we should let someone know. Maybe—maybe the Commander?”

She shook her head. “No, not a good idea.”

“Because he doesn’t know the details of the Sleeper assignment?”

“No, because the Fallen are a sore point for him, and I don’t want to subject him to that if I don’t have to.”

Storm blinked, then frowned. “Robert.”

Kitara’s brows rose, surprised he made the leap. “What about him?”

“That first day, when Robert came in with them. There was something obviously…tense between them. I thought maybe he just had some issues with the Fallen as a whole, but he didn’t seem to have the same problem with you.”

Kitara snorted. “I would hope not.”

Storm side-eyed her. “You said he was like your older brother. Is that all he was? Platonic?”

“You’re more his type than I am.”

“Oh. I—oh. I didn’t know.”

“His last relationship was…complicated. Raised some eyebrows.”

Storm frowned. “Someone gave him shit for being gay?”

“No. But about dating someone who Fell?” Kitara flashed him a pointed stare. “Yes.”

Her handler sat back in surprise. “He—what? The Commander?”

“He wasn’t a Commander then.”

Storm’s eyes widened as he put it together. “That’s why he and Robert were so awkward? Robert’s his ex?”

Kitara sighed, then nodded.. “Robert Fell while they were together. It nearly killed Kenric.”

“But…they brought him back. So…Kenric doesn’t want to be with him because he Fell?”

“No, nothing like that. Kenric would have taken him back in a heartbeat. But as you said, Robert became a part of the Council that Felled him. And by then, Kenric was on track to become headquarters’ Commander. Given the circumstances, Robert didn’t want Kenric accused of nepotism. But between you and me…” Kitara bit her lip. “I think Robert doesn’t want Kenric to feel…trapped or…polluted by what he is.”

“That’s ridiculous. Robert is brilliant,” Storm protested.

“Kenric said so too. But Robert stuck with the nepotism excuse and…now Kenric reports directly to the High Council.”

Storm observed her with a furrowed brow. “And Robert Fell while the Comma—Kenric—was in Spokane?”

Kitara nodded.

“Do you know why?”

“No, and if Kenric knows, he never said. But I’d rather spare him the pain it’ll bring if we tell him about this—at least until we know more.”

“Right.” Storm stared at that stained spot on the floor again.

Kitara chewed the inside of her cheek as she watched him, but he seemed lost in thought. She reached for a jacket hanging on the back of her desk chair and pulled it on.

At the movement, he raised his head to meet her gaze. His expression reflected something new—something neither resentful nor loathsome. Something warmer. The look in his eyes sent sparks surging through Kitara’s veins…and not from the powerful current he wielded.

“Okay. Fine. I’ll go along with this on one condition.”

The warmth vanished, and she tensed. “What?”

“I don’t want you going alone. We’ll do it together.”

“Too dangerous,” Kitara protested. “I can’t risk you, Storm, not under the current circumstances and—”

“And we’re supposed to be a team.” Storm stood from the couch. “I’m finally starting to figure out what that means, and I want to help. Like I said: I owe you that much.”

“That’s just it, Storm, you won’t be helping, you’ll be risking yourself, maybe the AIDO—”

“No, I won’t,” he said, stepping closer to her. “I was one of the Academy’s top graduates. I’ve studied tactics, espionage, and combat most of my adult life. That first night was a poor example of my skills, but I do have skills. I lashed out at you before, and I was wrong.” He shook his head. “I said some things…things I would take back if I could. But I’ve pulled my head out of my ass now. I understand now. And I know in my bones I should be with you in this. To be your partner. So don’t try to convince me to stay behind the safety of the AIDO walls when I can back you up out here. We go together or not at all,” he asserted firmly. “You won’t change my mind.”

His aura pulsed through the room, nearly overwhelming her with its warmth and proximity. The hairs on her arms rose.

“Why is this so important to you?” Kitara tipped her head back so she could meet his eyes from her seat in the chair. “Why risk it?”

“Listen.” Storm leaned against her desk. “You probably think I’m some bored celebrity with an itchy trigger-finger and an anger problem. I haven’t done anything so far to disprove that impression. But…I’m not. I joined the Academy because I wanted to make a difference. I wanted to make my mother proud, to honor her legacy. She was a great Warrior before, defending the Myragnar. Hell, she got hurt trying to defend you and your family. It would be an insult to the very legacy I want to honor if I let the daughter of the woman she tried to protect walk into a potentially vulnerable position alone.” He managed a small smile. “If she woke up and found out I did, she’d kick my ass from here to Myragos.”

Kitara deliberated for a long, charged moment, contemplating whether she should just veto this entire thing, even if it meant reaching out to Saoirse.

Until she realized she didn’t really want to.

“Fine,” she conceded. “I need to do some recon first, after what happened tonight, but if it seems safe enough, I’ll let you know. We can plan from there.”

“Great.” He sagged as tension drained from his shoulders.

“But I have a condition too.” She held up a finger.

Storm shifted from relieved to skeptical in a single moment. “What?”

“If I’m made, or attacked, or if they think we’re acquainted, you need to leave,” she said firmly. “You cannot intervene. My job comes with risks. Sometimes those risks are life-threatening, sometimes they’re not. And to an outsider, it might not always be clear which is which. But it’s always life-threatening if my handler comes bulldozing through at the slightest hint of trouble. Promise me.”

Storm hesitated. A mixture of shock, disgust, and defiance warred in his expression.

Kitara stood to face him. “Promise me, or I will torpedo this whole thing and we’ll go back to radio-silence. I don’t trust your instincts—don’t take it personally,” she added when he scowled in annoyance. “I don’t trust anyone’s instincts. Not right away. And you’ve given me more reason than most not to trust you. I need your word on this.”

He blanched at the gentle rebuke even as he relented. “Okay. I promise. No heroics.”

“Even if I’m being drained dry or flayed alive in front of you, even if they’re torturing me or killing me slowly, you do not know me.”

Storm’s nose wrinkled at the mental image.

“While you’re out there, just remember I’m a Fallen cavorting with other Ostragonians,” she added with only a touch of irony. “Sometimes it helps to…role-play.”

Despite himself, Storm shot her a rakish smile. “Role-play?”

She frowned. “Don’t get cute.”

“My bad,” he mumbled, but his expression lacked genuine contrition.

She sighed. “Okay. I need a few days to think through what I need to do. I’ll text you when I head out again.”

Storm nodded, then checked the time on his phone. “And I should get back,” he said, pocketing the device again. “It’s nearly four in the morning.”

“I agree.” She stepped around him, barely avoiding brushing against his chest in the tiny flat, to unlock the door for him.

As she flipped the deadbolts, Storm drew her attention. “Kit?”

She blinked at the nickname but didn’t object. “Yeah?”

He took a deep breath. “I…I don’t know how to…not hate you, you know.”

Kitara stilled uneasily, unsure how to reply to that.

“But…I believe you,” he hurried on. “So…do you think we could…start over?”

“I would like that.” She offered him a rueful smile.

Relief flooded his expression. “Okay. Me too.” He sighed. “I can’t seem to stay away from you. Despite everything, for some reason I feel…like myself. That’s…not a feeling I get to experience often.”

Kitara’s conflicted expression betrayed something like longing—desperate longing—mixed with pain and guilt. “Storm,” she began. “Just so you know, I won’t lie to you. I…lie for a living.” She pulled her jacket tighter around her. “I don’t like to do it when I don’t have to. Not if I can help it. I might choose not to answer a question, but I won’t lie to you about it.”

“Thanks for that, I guess.” Storm wouldn’t meet her gaze. “I’ll keep it in mind.”

She studied him for a long moment, and Storm recalled the first time he’d met her, how she seemed to see right through him. Like she understood him and his thoughts without needing access to his mind.

Almost as though she could hear his thoughts, Kitara shook her head. “You are not at all what I imagined, Storm Avensäel.” She cocked her head as if she’d solved a puzzle. “In fact, I’d bet no one sees you beyond the color of your blood. Maybe…not even yourself. Sure, those silver eyes of yours are famous. But I’m more interested in who you are—and who you might become—beyond them.”

Storm’s shoulders tightened, and he searched her face for signs of an insult, but her expression held no guile. Her words left him feeling exposed. Like she’d been waiting for the truth of him to emerge from beneath the hateful mask he’d shown her. A wave of shame washed over him at the thought.

He tried to brush it off. “I guess…I could say something similar about you. Seeing beyond the surface level stuff, I mean. Being half-Fallen, and all that.”

“Probably. It’s close enough to an apology, at any rate.” A half-smile played over her face.

Moriah’s smile.

He hesitated for a loaded moment. “I’m sorry,” he said finally, so quietly she almost didn’t hear him. “For what I said. And did. For…not being a partner, at first.”

“Forgiven,” she murmured without hesitation.

“Okay.” Storm rubbed the back of his neck ruefully and opened the door. “I’ll see you around, then.”