the weeks after my sister Tula had died. The pain would only dull with time.
“I’m so sorry,” I said. “I know—”
“You know nothing.” Kade spat the words out. “Please spare me the empty and banal responses of sympathy. They are meaningless.”
I wanted to correct him, but from his reaction I knew he wasn’t ready to hear it.
Kade grabbed my shoulders and dragged me close. “Did Raiden tell you her name? Hope that I would confess my woes to you?” He dug his fingers into my skin.
“No one told me. Let go. You’re hurting me.”
“Did Master Cowan pull the information from my head?”
I wished I had one of my sais so I could knock sense into him. “She would never intrude on your private thoughts. The orb told me. Let go now!” I brought my arms up between his and swept them out to the side, breaking his hold on my shoulders.
He stumbled back and I pushed him farther away with my foot. He landed on his cot. At least I had paid attention in self-defense class. Another skill learned from my four years at the Keep. Yippee for me.
“Do you have water in your ears? What part of ‘let go’ didn’t you understand?” I scolded, reverting into my really-annoyed-older-sister mode.
When anger flamed in Kade’s eyes, I realized I dealt with a grown man and Stormdancer. He could probably order the wind to suck me out of the cave and drop me onto the beach far below. Big difference from fighting with my younger brother, Ahir, whose only talent was to pester me to distraction.
“Opal,” Zitora called from below.
I glanced over the edge.
“We need to hurry. I want to reach The Flats by sunset.”
My thoughts lingered on Kade and his orb as I helped Zitora saddle the horses and pack the bags. Varun and Kade arrived with full backpacks and I tied their sleeping rolls onto the saddles. Since they didn’t have any horses, we would share mounts to Thunder Valley. I eyed Kade’s pack with trepidation. He had taken his orb and its muted voice reached me even through the leather.
Soon the whole Stormdance team milled around, waiting to say goodbye.
Raiden gave us a few instructions. “If you’re not back here in eighteen days, then don’t bother. We’re clearing out on day nineteen.”
“If the storm pattern changes, don’t hesitate to leave sooner. Just send me a message,” Kade said.
“Will do.” Raiden scanned the sky.
“We’ll keep the kiln hot,” Indra said.
After all the goodbyes and thank yous, we led the horses up The Cliffs. The ascent felt easier. Perhaps because I tended to look up instead of down.
We reached The Flats without any problems. As soon as we were rested, Zitora mounted Sudi. “Varun, you’ll ride with me. Kade, you’re with Opal.”
When no one moved, Zitora ordered, “Let’s go. I want to get in a few more miles before we stop for the night.”
I don’t know why I thought Zitora and I would share a mount, but it appeared the men had assumed the same thing. They glanced at each other. Varun shrugged. He shouldered his pack and swung up behind Zitora.
Quartz bumped my arm with her nose. If horses could laugh, I had the feeling she would be chuckling.
Kade grabbed Quartz’s reins. “Should I?” he asked.
“No. She’s my horse. I’ll take them.”
“Suit yourself.”
I hopped into the saddle and Kade settled in behind me. It was a tight fit. I tried not to think about his legs pressed against mine, and about where my backside was nestled. Strong arms wrapped around my waist. I was suddenly glad he couldn’t see my flushed face. His chest molded to my back and the orb’s song grew louder. Its energy vibrated in my heart.
I urged Quartz into a gallop, hoping to distract myself from the hot tingle pulsing through my blood.
We aimed toward the setting sun and kept going once the light disappeared. Zitora slowed our pace, allowing the horses to find a good path in the darkness.
Kade had remained quiet, but I felt him draw a breath. “When I asked you what the orb says to you, I meant just general feelings like happy, sad or angry. Stormdancers hear the storm’s personality in the orb. I wanted to see if it was the same for you.” A pause. “You surprised me with your answer.”
Was this an apology? I searched for a reply. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”
“I know that…now.”
We rode for a while without saying anything. Finally, I asked, “Storms have personalities?”
“Yes. There’re subtle differences in the storms. A few blow big and angry, others delight in their energy, some rage with malice, while others brood. Strange, I know.”
“Not strange to me. It’s similar to my glass animals. They all call to me in different ways. If I really thought about it, I could assign emotions to them like you do with the storms.”
He huffed. “I never would have thought storms and glass could have something in common.”
“But you put the storm’s energy into glass.”
“Before I met you, I thought glass was just a container. No personality. I didn’t realize what could be done with it.”
“What do you mean?”
A grunt of frustration. “It’s like paint.”
“Paint?”
“Yes, paint. I can dip a brush and smooth paint on a canvas, but all I end up with is a smear of paint. While another can use that same paint and create a masterpiece.”
“I would hardly call my animals masterpieces.”
“Can anyone else do it?”
“Not that I know of.”
“Then they are truly unique and you should be proud of them.”
I squirmed at the thought. I was proud of what they could do, but Tula’s glass creations were crafted better. More life-like in detail and sought after by collectors, especially since there would be no more. A flare of grief burned in my throat. I swallowed it down and changed the subject.
“Why do you keep the orb?” I asked.
His grip on my waist tightened for a moment before he relaxed. “I was filling the orb when my sister died. Kaya worked on another outcrop two hundred feet away during a sullen storm. I knew the instant her orb shattered. By the time I reached her, she had lost too much blood.”
I wanted to express my regret,
