Akira Stone's Arc

Chapter 9 of 10

The door shut and left Akira alone with the root and the low pop of the fire. Their voices moved outside, low and hard, then faded as they walked off the porch. She had pushed the choice out of her hands on purpose. Now she had to wait for it to come back. Her clothes clung cold to her skin. The walk back from the lake had soaked her through, and the fire was already drying the table more than her. She had no patience for sitting wet. She unbuckled the leather satchel and set it on a chair. She stripped off the tunic and hung it over the back of another chair near the hearth. The leggings followed. She wrung them out on the stone lip and spread them flat. She stood by the fire in her linen underthings and let the heat find her. The floor was warm. Her hair dripped down her back. She combed it out with her fingers and thought about what she had bargained for, and what she had bargained away. Boots on the porch. Two sets. She did not scramble. She turned toward the door and squared her shoulders. Jasper came in first. He stopped inside the threshold as if he had walked into a wall. His sister nearly ran into his back. She looked past him, saw Akira by the fire, and made a short sound that was almost a laugh. "Wet clothes," Akira said. "They needed to dry." The sister's eyes moved over her without shame. She was reading the body, not judging it. She saw the flat muscle across Akira's stomach, the cord of her arms, the old scars — a long pale one down her ribs, a puckered mark high on her thigh, small nicks on her forearms where blades had found her before. "You've been in fights," the sister said. "Yes." "Good." She stepped around her brother and set a hand on the table. "That changes one thing." Jasper had not moved. He was staring at Akira, and his hand had closed on the doorframe hard enough to whiten the knuckles. His nostrils flared once. His chest rose and did not fall right. Akira watched him and felt something drop in her own stomach — not fear. Recognition. He knew before he said it. She could see it hit him. "Sister," he said. His voice came out rough. "Go." "Jasper —" "Go." The sister looked between them. Whatever she saw on his face made her mouth close. She picked up her knife from the table. At the door she paused. "We finish this talk tomorrow," she said. "Both of you." She stepped out. The door shut. Jasper let go of the frame. He crossed the room one slow step at a time, eyes on Akira, and stopped an arm's length from her. "It's you," he said.