Page 59 of The Ashborn

They came soon after the death of their mother. He wished the memory of her death wasn’t so fuzzy. Tristian had taken a head wound that day, and all he remembered was that they lived in Dove Port for a brief time and then they didn’t. Tristian’s father commanded the military then. His mother wanted them to experience the roots of their human heritage, while his father worked to decipher a plan on rescuing the child they pushed into River Storm after the war.

Tislin stirred next to Tristian. “Tislin, it’s me,” he whispered, though he knew he’d be the last person Tislin would want to wake to. Tristian made sure of that the minute he left for the Elvish Mountains and got his father killed. His brother only shifted and settled back.

A knock came at the door. Kienna poked her head in and paused when her eyes fell on Tristian. “Oh, sorry.” She went to close the door again, then smirked.

“What?” Tristian asked, his tone clipped.

“No, it’s… Seeing you lying on a bed is…awkward.” Kienna almost laughed.

Tristian raised a brow and cleared his throat. “You should be resting.”

“Right,” Kienna said, fixating on Tislin.

For a moment, it seemed like shadows were coursing over her eyes. Tristian shook the sleep from his mind. Tislin would have died, probably almost did, before he would let that happen. No, Kienna’s shadows likely came from the pure exhaustion it took to bring him back.

Tristian exhaled and sat up. “I should thank you.” He nudged his head toward his brother. “He’d be dead without you.”

“No, I made it worse.” She brought her hands up to her mouth, then stopped, shifting her fingers over a set of gold rings instead. “I shouldn’t have even let him take me⁠—”

“Kienna, take my thanks. I don’t give it if it’s not deserved.”

The corner of her mouth flinched. Sadness clung to her eyes. Tristian observed it, noted it in his chest, and filed it away for later. She didn’t need him. Not yet.

“I’d say more than deserved.” Tislin’s voice cracked, but it was there.

Tristian jolted back to Tislin, examining his face. His eyes remained cool gray and burnt orange; no hint of dark shadows anywhere aside from his feet, where they always were. The color in his face returned. Connak shot up from the floor, stumbling to his feet to look at Tislin. Tristian’s jaw flexed as he warred with his anger. Connak talked a sweet game about how Tislin needed to be careful with the shadows, but he kept sending him on dangerous missions.

They were necessary missions, but they didn’t always need a Shadowmaster to complete them. The Blades could easily sneak into Alverton from the desert and burn the building to the ground. In no way did Tristian see the need for Tislin’s involvement. He never would, though. Even if Connak had a reason, Tristian would fight it at every turn.

“You bastard,” Connak said, an exasperated sigh escaping him. “You had me thinking we’d be performing the Bow of the Bough.”

“Oh, come now, Commander. I would never put you through that ritual.” Tislin said it with a cough. He took in another deep breath and waved Tristian back when he tried to help him. “You should be in Trinity behind the wards, Tristian. I am on the mend.”

Tristian diverted his attention to Kienna, crafting the illusion that Tislin’s words did not cut deeply. The minute he did, she’d start glowing. Then he’d start glowing. And that would only piss him off. He stared at her, making sure that didn’t happen. Finally, Tristian stood from the bed, and as he motioned to get around her, she pressed her hand to his chest. Her touch startled him. Judging by her wide eyes, she must have startled herself.

“What’s the Bow of the Bough?” she asked.

“A ceremony for fallen soldiers,” Tristian said, crossing his arms.

Tislin hummed behind him. Tristian leaned against the wall, facing Tislin and Connak. Tislin’s eyes trailed the flickering shadows. “The Bow of the Bough has been a rite among high-ranking Elvish soldiers since the days of the ancient cities,” he said quietly. “It is reserved for commanding officers or their kin to honor a soul returning to the Eternal Mother.”

“I’m glad you’re okay, Tislin,” Kienna said. She smiled at them before leaving. Tristian considered staying. He wanted to tell him that he was glad to see him alive as well. He only wanted to protect him, but he left anyway. Tislin didn’t want him there. He never did.

Moira paced in the kitchen, flicking her gaze between where Danek rested and Tislin. “Any news?” she asked when Kienna approached her.

“Tislin is okay,” Kienna said. A weight seemed to lift from Moira’s chest. She fell into Kienna’s arms and cried. She loved Tislin. Tristian could tell by the aching relief in her sobs. “You should go see him.”

Moira pulled from Kienna’s embrace and hesitated at the door. With an encouraging nudge from Kienna, she didn’t waste another second.

Tristian and Kienna stood leagues away from each other. Kienna hugged herself and glanced backward at Danek’s door. Tristian studied her, his gratitude only growing. Even if his brother didn’t care to be around him, if he’d died, Tristian would have folded. He handled his parents’ death valiantly. Promised each time that he would take care of Tislin. Make him strong enough to endure the world. Each effort he took toward that pushed his brother away. But Tristian kept pushing. It was no wonder Tislin hated him.

“I should check on Danek,” Kienna said.

Tristian cleared his throat. “Right. I’ll be going. I have a few things to take care of in the city, and I’ll leave for the forest tonight. In case my brother asks, of course.”

Kienna peered at him. “You should sleep first.”

“Duty calls.”