should have your shower.”
“Lyre—”
He dragged her into the bathroom, released her, and turned on the taps. Water sprayed loudly and filled the small room with noise.
“I don’t want any little dragonet ears listening to us,” he said quietly, his voice almost lost to the sound of the running water.
Nervousness churned in her stomach at the extent he was going to conceal their conversation.
“Why are you being so secretive?”
He sighed, the sound full of frustration and anxiety. “I want to talk to you about Ash.”
“What about him?”
“He tells you things he doesn’t tell me.”
“He does?”
He shrugged a little. “He told you about Seiya when he’d never mentioned a word about her to me.”
“Oh right.”
“I thought he might have said something to you.”
“About what?”
A long pause. “About what’s wrong with him.”
Alarm swept through her. “What do you mean?”
“You saw it, Piper,” he said, his voice roughening. He turned toward the sink and put both hands on the counter, shoulders hunched. “You saw him last night. That total loss of control. That wasn’t the first time. It’s been happening more and more often over the past two months.”
She stared at him without seeing him, the image of Ash’s wild lunge off the bed, like he’d woken not knowing where he was, filling her mind.
“There’s something wrong with him,” Lyre said, eyes closed, “and it’s getting worse.”
Forcing her hands out of fists, she said softly, “I told you a little bit about what he was like when I got him out of the Chrysalis building.”
“Yeah,” he said, straightening from the counter. “That’s why I thought maybe you could get some answers out of him. He won’t admit to me that something’s wrong. But since you were there with him, maybe he’ll have an easier time talking to you.”
“Maybe,” she whispered, though she didn’t have much hope. Ash wasn’t the sharing type. She let out a shaky breath. “I thought he was okay. I thought Vejovis had healed him.”
“Vejovis can only heal so much, and he didn’t have a lot of time.”
“Maybe you should take him to another healer.”
He shook his head before she’d even finished. “Healing the mind is pretty much a forgotten art. Vejovis is the only healer I can think of who would potentially know how to do it.”
She twisted the leather band around her wrist. “So you think Ash is losing control of shading?”
“I’m not sure. It looks like that on the surface, but it’s not ... it doesn’t quite match what I’ve seen of other daemons with shading issues.”
“What do you mean?”
“It’s just ... I don’t know. That’s why I wanted to talk to you.”
She closed her eyes, eyebrows pinched together. She thought of Ash when she’d first entered his cell in the Chrysalis center. Violence and rage burning in his eyes. Blind hatred. He’d wanted to kill her simply because she existed. She shivered.
“I don’t know,” she whispered. “I don’t know what’s wrong with him.”
“Can you try talking to him?”
“I’ll try.”
“Thanks.” He sighed. “All this shit definitely hasn’t helped matters.”
“What shit?”
“You being dead. He didn’t take it well.”
She went still. “Oh?”
“Well, neither did I. We felt like we’d failed you. Ash blamed himself because he hadn’t insisted on taking you into hiding with us. Then we suddenly found out you weren’t dead, and we had to find out where you were, who had you, whether you might actually be dead after all. It was pretty intense.”
“Oh, yeah, I guess it would have been.”
“You should clean up and get some sleep. I’m going to head out for a few hours and see what I can find out about your dad.”
She nodded. He turned toward the door.
“Is that it?” she asked.
He glanced back, brow furrowed. “Is what it?”
“Aren’t you going to offer to wash my back in the shower? Or warm up my bed for me?
“Lyre—”
He dragged her into the bathroom, released her, and turned on the taps. Water sprayed loudly and filled the small room with noise.
“I don’t want any little dragonet ears listening to us,” he said quietly, his voice almost lost to the sound of the running water.
Nervousness churned in her stomach at the extent he was going to conceal their conversation.
“Why are you being so secretive?”
He sighed, the sound full of frustration and anxiety. “I want to talk to you about Ash.”
“What about him?”
“He tells you things he doesn’t tell me.”
“He does?”
He shrugged a little. “He told you about Seiya when he’d never mentioned a word about her to me.”
“Oh right.”
“I thought he might have said something to you.”
“About what?”
A long pause. “About what’s wrong with him.”
Alarm swept through her. “What do you mean?”
“You saw it, Piper,” he said, his voice roughening. He turned toward the sink and put both hands on the counter, shoulders hunched. “You saw him last night. That total loss of control. That wasn’t the first time. It’s been happening more and more often over the past two months.”
She stared at him without seeing him, the image of Ash’s wild lunge off the bed, like he’d woken not knowing where he was, filling her mind.
“There’s something wrong with him,” Lyre said, eyes closed, “and it’s getting worse.”
Forcing her hands out of fists, she said softly, “I told you a little bit about what he was like when I got him out of the Chrysalis building.”
“Yeah,” he said, straightening from the counter. “That’s why I thought maybe you could get some answers out of him. He won’t admit to me that something’s wrong. But since you were there with him, maybe he’ll have an easier time talking to you.”
“Maybe,” she whispered, though she didn’t have much hope. Ash wasn’t the sharing type. She let out a shaky breath. “I thought he was okay. I thought Vejovis had healed him.”
“Vejovis can only heal so much, and he didn’t have a lot of time.”
“Maybe you should take him to another healer.”
He shook his head before she’d even finished. “Healing the mind is pretty much a forgotten art. Vejovis is the only healer I can think of who would potentially know how to do it.”
She twisted the leather band around her wrist. “So you think Ash is losing control of shading?”
“I’m not sure. It looks like that on the surface, but it’s not ... it doesn’t quite match what I’ve seen of other daemons with shading issues.”
“What do you mean?”
“It’s just ... I don’t know. That’s why I wanted to talk to you.”
She closed her eyes, eyebrows pinched together. She thought of Ash when she’d first entered his cell in the Chrysalis center. Violence and rage burning in his eyes. Blind hatred. He’d wanted to kill her simply because she existed. She shivered.
“I don’t know,” she whispered. “I don’t know what’s wrong with him.”
“Can you try talking to him?”
“I’ll try.”
“Thanks.” He sighed. “All this shit definitely hasn’t helped matters.”
“What shit?”
“You being dead. He didn’t take it well.”
She went still. “Oh?”
“Well, neither did I. We felt like we’d failed you. Ash blamed himself because he hadn’t insisted on taking you into hiding with us. Then we suddenly found out you weren’t dead, and we had to find out where you were, who had you, whether you might actually be dead after all. It was pretty intense.”
“Oh, yeah, I guess it would have been.”
“You should clean up and get some sleep. I’m going to head out for a few hours and see what I can find out about your dad.”
She nodded. He turned toward the door.
“Is that it?” she asked.
He glanced back, brow furrowed. “Is what it?”
“Aren’t you going to offer to wash my back in the shower? Or warm up my bed for me?
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