The Sleeper and the Silverblood
The Darkness Without

When Kitara woke, momentary disorientation made her sit straight up with a sharp exhale. She groaned as the room spun, cradling her head in one hand. Nearly dying, despite Storm’s impressive abilities, had taken its toll.

The covers on his side of the bed were thrown back, the sheets cool—already leached of any residual warmth. Storm had withdrawn some time ago.

Anxiety surged through her as Kitara tried to get her bearings.

The rest of the room was empty, the door ajar. His voice murmured from the room beyond, and Kitara relaxed again.

As if summoned, Storm reappeared in the doorway wearing a pair of sweatpants slung low across his hips…and nothing else.

Kitara inhaled a sharp breath. She hadn’t seen him in any state of undress before.

He was a walking sculpture carved from something more precious than marble. Every hard-earned moment of his Warrior training showed in the chiseled lines of his chest and shoulders, the planes of his abs, and the intriguing cut V disappearing into the waist of his pants. His dark hair was still tousled from sleep, lending him a cavalier air. Fully dressed, his presence commanded attention. Now shirtless, Kitara found it impossible to look away.

He blinked at her sitting up in his bed, oblivious to the heat flooding her senses. “Kit?”

Kitara made a concerted effort to focus on his face and not his bare chest. “What time is it?” she whispered.

“Just after one,” he replied, brow furrowed. “You okay?”

She nodded slowly. “A little dizzy. I woke up and you…”

Storm crossed the room and sat gingerly beside her, unembarrassed by his half-naked state. “I called Alasdair,” he explained. “Status update. I assumed you’d want to know.”

“Ah, yeah.” Kitara tried to reorient her runaway mind. “What did he say?”

Storm shook his head. “They’re not back yet. He’s been up all night.”

“Stars. Is he still coming to the library?”

“Says he is.”

She nodded again. “Okay. Good.”

He observed her for a long moment. “You sure you’re okay?”

She managed a half-smile at his concern. “I’m not a morning person on the best of days, Storm, and yesterday was not a good day. You’ll have to give me a minute.”

That prompted a grin. “I guess this is basically the middle of the night for you.”

She hummed an assent.

“Can I get you anything? Breakfast?”

“You have coffee?”

He raised an eyebrow. “I’m sure I can get some.”

Moving slowly so as to give her plenty of time to pull away, Storm leaned forward and brushed a kiss over her lips. “Don’t go anywhere.”

She snorted. “No danger of that.”

His smile widened, and he disappeared into the sitting room beyond again.

When he returned with a steaming cup of black ambrosia, Kitara felt a bit more like herself. She looked up from her phone as he handed the drink to her.

“I was supposed to meet Baylen last night,” she murmured. “He’s worried.”

“You exchanged numbers?”

She nodded but didn’t elaborate.

“What did you tell him?”

She tossed her hair behind one shoulder, silently bemoaning its snarled bedhead state. “That I was fine, and I’d call him later.” She took a sip of the coffee. “Mm. Not bad.”

“Does it help?” Storm asked, curiosity brightening his expression.

“I like the taste,” she explained. “The bitterness wakes me up.”

“I was starting to wonder if you were a rare immortal sensitive to caffeine,” he replied with a smile.

She grinned back. “I wish. Would certainly have made some nights easier.”

Storm tilted his head. “That reminds me,” he said slowly. “Can I ask a question about…last night?”

She shrugged. “I imagine I’ll have to recap it for Kenric anyway.”

“When I healed you,” he began, “I noticed something in your system. A lot like what Declan had in his that first night.”

“Yeah, a paralytic.”

“So how…?” Storm trailed off, unsure how to ask his question.

Kitara set her coffee on the bedside table. “Depends on how much you want to know about my…background, I suppose.” She watched him for any trace of negative reaction.

But Storm’s expression remained openly curious. “Tell me.”

Steeling herself, Kitara lifted a hand. “My…disappearing trick isn’t the only thing I inherited from my dad’s family,” she explained as tendrils of darkness weaved around her fingers. “I swore I wouldn’t use it. It’s…like a poison in and of itself: the dark incarnation of their treachery.” She clenched her fist and the smoke dissipated.

Storm watched, fascinated. “But you used it last night?”

“I was desperate, and I wasn’t even sure it would work. But whatever it does, it…burned away the paralytic. I’d never used it on myself before.”

“But you have used it?”

“In a way,” Kitara hazarded. “It tends to come out when I’m threatened or under intense stress. I lost control of it…once.”

“When?”

Kitara side-eyed him. “With Phoenix.”

“My dad said he nearly died…”

“And I told you I wish he had,” she said, shifting uncomfortably. “It’s…corrosive. Pure, destructive energy. It nearly ripped him apart. I think they fixed the worst of it, but since then, I’ve refused to use it. It felt…good,” she admitted. “And that scared me. If treachery is truly inherited, that’s the manifestation of it.”

Storm whistled low. “It’s like the opposite of healing, then?”

“I think so.” Kitara reached for her coffee again.

“How did you keep this all a secret for so long?” he asked with something like admiration.

Her smile appeared more like a grimace. “Threat of execution is a pretty effective incentive.”

“I guess so.” He checked the time. “Speaking of threats, we’d better get going. Alasdair said Dev’s been working since seven to prepare for us this afternoon and not-so-subtly warned us not to skip out.”

Kitara snorted. “Not sure if I should be offended he thinks I’d skip out on my sister.”

“Probably not. He’s not getting enough sleep right now, and I think he’s just trying to get through his day as quick as he can.”

“Fair. Can’t really blame him.”

Storm smiled at her. “I’ll let you get ready, then we’ll go together, okay?”

She nodded, lifting her chin expectantly this time as he kissed her again.

“I could get used to this,” he murmured, making her blush, then he brushed another kiss on the tip of her nose. He left again, closing the door behind him.

Draining the last of her coffee, Kitara swung her legs over the side of the bed, pleased when the room didn’t spin, and found that Storm had moved her go-bag into the room. She threw on a cropped hoodie and olive cargo pants, braided her hair as best she could, brushed her teeth, and slipped her blades into their arm sheaths.

Storm wore a fresh t-shirt over black tactical pants and his combat boots. Kitara wondered just how long ago he’d risen.

“I take it you are a morning person,” she noted as he held the door into the hall for her.

“Blame it on the Academy,” he replied with a note of mirth. “If you’re up at dawn, you’re running late.”

“You should be exhausted.”

“I am. But it’s overshadowed by my relief that you’re okay.”

Kitara’s cheeks reddened again, and Storm offered her his arm, which she took gratefully. Most of her dizziness had passed, but the solidity of his warmth aided her equilibrium. They settled into an amiable silence as they traversed AIDO headquarters, finally passing a statue of a book-wielding angel identifying the library corridor.

“I’m glad you know where you’re going,” Kitara murmured. “I’d be hopelessly lost for a while otherwise.”

“Mm, I forgot you didn’t have a chance to really see headquarters when you arrived. I’ll remedy that soon.”

“I’d like that.” Kitara didn’t voice the dubious odds of remaining long after Kenric or the High Council learned of her arrival. “Tell me something: if your dad restricted your aura to the facility, how did you portal out?” she asked as they approached a pair of floor-to-ceiling glass doors.

“The portals are exempt,” Storm explained, holding the doors open for her. “Mostly because they have such strict security protocols, it’s nearly impossible to commandeer one while on lockdown.”

“And Alasdair did it anyway?”

Storm side-eyed her. “I didn’t leave him much choice.”

Kitara smiled wryly as they walked into the library office.

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