"You said to come back here and wait for you. What were you doing sitting in the dark?” She shifted her weight, as if she wanted to slide along the wall away from him. He put out his left hand and braced it next to her shoulder, stopping her.

"Waiting. For the Inkani to come rifling through your apartment, looking for the books. I was going to trap one, make it take me to you.” I didn't think you would come back. I thought they had you and when the red haze cleared I was standing in the middle of a bunch of dead Inkani and had to jump to get away. Never dreamed a stonekin had you. Bless them and their worship of the sun.

"They want my library too?” That sparked indignation. But she was still trembling, and her eyes were wider and darker than he liked. Shock. She was in shock. Just because she was so calm outwardly didn't mean she was dealing well with having most of her assumptions about the nature of the universe whacked away from underneath her.

"Not anymore.” His voice hurt his throat. “If they find out exactly what you are, they'll want you, and not just for party games. They have a use for you, sweetheart."

"Don't call me—” Her eyes flashed, and he lost the battle with himself.

He leaned forward. His mouth trapped hers, his tongue sliding in. She tasted like sunlight, the harsh light that hurt even as it warmed him. She also tasted soft, and of the mint toothpaste in her bathroom, still lingering in her mouth. Her breath mingled with his, the flavor of night and stonekin and some taste that was uniquely hers. Fire slid down his back, roared through his nervous system. He was damn close to dragging her into her pretty blue bedroom before he finally broke away, pulled her away from the wall, and closed her in his arms, smelling her hair again. “I can explain,” he said into her hair. “I can explain, but first I need you to tell me exactly what happened. Everything, all right?"

She didn't say anything. She simply shook as she cried into his shredded shirt. He stroked her hair and shifted his weight, easing his shattered knee as it healed. He should have questioned her, demanded to know exactly what happened, pushed her until she told him everything. Instead, he held her. Everything else could wait. Nobody's going to take your library, sweetheart. And they're sure as hell not going to take you, not if I can stop them. The Order has no goddamn idea how important you are. They might not listen to the stonekin, or the stones won't tell them. And if the Inkani find out, they will take you and use you for their Rite of Opening, and you'll beg for death before they're through. It's up to me to keep you alive until we can show the Order what you are.

Later, as the gray of false dawn began to take its first breaths in the east, he watched her. The strength of nighttime began to fade as the demon inside him went to sleep with the sun's rise.

Chess lay on her side among the scattered pillows, breathing deeply, the flush of sleep high in her cheeks. Ryan smoothed the blue comforter down, glad he'd washed his hands at least. He didn't want to get blood on her blankets. He stood by the side of the bed, staring down at her long dark hair spread over the pillow, one small hand flung out, loosely cupped and holding only darkness.

She hadn't been happy, repeating over and over that she just wanted to go to bed, that she was finished with it. But she'd told him enough that he'd heaved a sigh of relief. The stonekin knew what she was, and had saved her, not even requiring payment for passage Below. Ryan had been seen publicly with a woman right before all hell broke loose, and he'd run in time. The Inkani might suspect what she was… and if the Malik caught wind of Ryan with a woman all hell would break loose.

Doesn't matter. She's a potential Golden. There haven't been any surviving potentials for five hundred years, why now? And why did Paul not notice? His fingers itched to touch her hair, smooth it away from her face. She'd actually clung to him, wrapping her hands in his shredded shirt and refusing to let go, sobbing. All things considered, she was a lot more resilient than a lot of civilians faced with their first Inkani attack. Crying was better than screaming and beating your head against the walls, as sometimes happened when a skin came face-to-face with the night side.

He closed his eyes, breathing her in. I am in a deep hole, and it's getting deeper by the second. She's one of the Golden, and I'm attached to her. Too attached to her. I let my instincts get involved, but what the hell was I supposed to do? The image rose, again, of her sitting lonely at her kitchen table, crying into her hands, dealing with facing a skornac, something she should never have had to even see. There was so much lonely bravery in that image a lump rose in his throat. She was far braver than any of the Malik he knew. What had it cost her to know these things existed and bear that knowledge in absolute quiet, going out to defend the children of her city with only a Fang and her wits to protect her? Then to mislead Paul, and face a Drakul with her chin held high and her eyes flashing?

I have to call in. Tell them what she is. They'll send a whole division to protect her if need be, bring her in and give her anything she wants. She'll be as safe as it's possible to be.

Especially with him protecting her. Would they let him stay with her? Not bloody likely… but if she insisted, maybe, just maybe…?

You're only fooling yourself. His fingers itched, ached, he wanted to touch her. You're a liability, you've broken Rule Number Two for a Drakul. But your duty as one of the Order is to protect the Golden.

He had to call in. The chill voice of logic told him the more Malik around her, the safer she was. She shouldn't have to deal with this alone. She should be watched, taught, protected, allowed to fully come into her own as a Phoenicis. Call in. Tell them I'm protecting her because she's something we haven't seen in five centuries, a way to drive back the Inkani and reclaim some of the cities. Call in and tell them I'm obeying the precepts of the Order, protecting her. Don't mention that I've let myself get tangled in a knot over her and abandoned my Malik. But someone saw Paul, the stone said as much. And now I've been linked to her, and the stones know she's… God. What a mess.

She made a soft sound, curling more tightly into herself. And damn him if he didn't want to shuck off his coat and his torn-up shirt and sink down next to her, share her space, slide his arm over her and hold her. Share her warmth like the animal he was.

More trouble than you need, Drakul. Call in. Bring in reinforcements. Take your punishment if you have to, but call in. Keep her safe.

He let out a soft, frustrated breath. A thin edge of light from the nightlight in her bathroom gleamed in her hair, showed the curve of her cheekbone. Why did that make the inside of his chest feel like it was cracking?

He stood there for a long time, struggling with himself. Call in? Of course. In a minute. As soon as he could pull himself away from standing here, watching her sleep. She looked so peaceful, and she needed her rest. She wasn't like a Drakul, able to go without sleep or food, using inhuman endurance. He'd handled her clumsily from the very beginning, accusing her of having something to do with Paul's disappearance and generally behaving like a big, dumb, brainless Drakul. It would be a wonder if she wanted anything to do with him after that little display in the hallway—

The phone shrilled.

He actually jumped, adrenaline smashing through his entire body. Chess muttered and rolled over, the T-shirt she hadn't bothered to change out of pulling down and exposing pale flesh. What the hell?

She reached for her bedside table blindly, and grabbed the phone as it started to squawk again. It was a pink plastic Princess phone, he felt grimly amused by that as she fished it up and struggled with the receiver. “Mph.” The sound of her voice, slurred with sleep, brushed against his nerves. He should have been there on the bed beside her.