Awakened

it.”
    “Don’t I have to be hard to fight?” I remembered skewering Kalona to the wall of an Otherworld arena with his own spear, and my stomach clenched.
    She shook her head and the fading daylight caught the streak in her silver hair, making it glisten like cinnamon and gold mixed together. “No, you must be strong. You must be wise. You must know yourself and trust only those who are worthy. If you allow the battle against Darkness to harden you, you will lose perspective.”
    I looked away, staring out at the gray-blue waters that surrounded the Isle of Skye. The sun was setting into the ocean, reflecting delicate pink and coral colors across the darkening sky. It was beautiful and peaceful and looked utterly normal. Standing here it was hard to imagine that hanging around in the world out there was evil and Darkness and death.
    But Darkness was out there, probably multiplied times a gazillion. Kalona hadn’t killed me, and that was really, really gonna piss off Neferet.
    Just the thought of what that meant, that I was going to have to deal with her and Kalona and all the horrible bullpoopie that went along with them again made me feel incredibly tired.
    I turned away from the window, squared my shoulders, and faced Sgiach. “What if I don’t want to fight anymore? What if I want to stay here, at least for a while? Stark’s not himself. He needs to rest and get better. I’ve already sent that message to the High Council about Kalona. They know he murdered Heath and then came after me, and that Neferet was all involved in it and has allied herself with Darkness. The High Council can handle Neferet. Hell, adults need to handle her and the nasty evil mess she keeps trying to make out of life.”
    Sgiach didn’t say anything, so I took a breath and kept on babbling. “I’m a kid. Seventeen. Barely. I’m crappy at geometry. My Spanish sucks. I can’t even vote yet. Fighting evil isn’t my responsibility—graduating from high school and, hopefully, making the Change is. My soul’s been shattered and my boyfriend’s been killed. Don’t I deserve a break? Just a little one?”
    Utterly surprising me, Sgiach smiled and said, “Yes, Zoey, I believe you do.”
    “You mean I can stay here?”
    “For as long as you wish. I know what it is to feel the world press too tightly around. Here, as you said, the world is only allowed to enter at my command—and mostly I command it to stay away.”
    “What about the fight against Darkness and evil and whatnot?”
    “It will be there when you return.”
    “Wow. Seriously?”
    “Seriously. Stay here on my isle until your soul is truly rested and restored, and your conscience tells you to return to your world and your life there.”
    I ignored the little pang I felt at the word conscience. “Stark can stay, too, right?”
    “Of course. A queen must always have her Guardian by her side.”
    “Speaking of,” I said quickly, glad to steer the subject away from questions of conscience and battling evil, “how long has Seoras been your Guardian?”
    The queen’s eyes softened and her smile became sweeter, warmer, and even more beautiful. “Seoras became my Oath Bond Guardian more than five hundred years ago.”
    “Holy crap! Five hundred years? How old are you?”
    Sgiach laughed. “After a certain point, don’t you think age is irrelevant?”
    “And it isna polite to ask a lassie’s age.”
    Even if he hadn’t said anything, I would have known Seoras had come in the room. Sgiach’s face changed when he was around. It was like he turned on a switch and made something soft and warm glow inside her. And when he gazed back at her, just for a moment, he didn’t look so gruff and battle-scarred and I’d-rather-kick-your-butt-than-talk-to-you.
    The queen laughed and touched her Guardian’s arm with an intimacy that made me hope Stark and I could find even a little piece of what the two of them had. And if he called me lassie after five hundred years, that would be pretty cool, too.
    Heath would have called me lassie. Well, more like girl. Or maybe just Zo—forever just his Zo.
    But Heath was dead and gone and he’d never call me anything again.
    “He’s waiting for yu, young queen.”
    Shocked, I stared at Seoras. “Heath?”
    The Warrior’s look was wise and understanding—his voice gentle. “Aye, yur Heath probably does await yu somewhere in the future, but it is of yur Guardian I speak.”
    “Stark! Oh, good, he’s awake.” I know I