Return (Lady of Toryn trilogy) by Charity Santiago

eight years ago, she would have gambled all her stanes that he'd leap to his feet and hightail it outta there faster than a top-ranked racehorse down the home stretch at the Silverbell Theme Park. Ashlyn would have been left in his dust, giggling stupidly and wondering how the hell he'd managed to move so fast without tripping over his pointy-toed silver boots, and wasn't that glove real heavy anyway, how could he run at all with that thing hanging on his arm?
     
    But apparently Ashlyn wasn't the only one who had changed since the defeat of Lord Angelo.
     
    This new, upgraded Drake met Ashlyn's eyes, showing absolutely no signs of hightailing anywhere, and she felt her breath catch in her throat as he stared at her. When she managed to suck in air again, she felt like she was out of control, breathing hard like she'd just jumped off Na Michico and swam to Cosmea. Drake's eyes were crimson like blood in the firelight and sunlight combined, only not half as disgusting, not even disgusting, and holy crap was she getting all hot and bothered over Drake Lockhart?
     
    She almost whispered his name, hand moving reflexively closer to his on the red earth beside her, but caught herself, suddenly realizing what she was doing.
     
    Hastily, she tore her gaze from the red-eyed gunslinger's, staring instead at the flame in front of her, heart pounding noisily. "Oh, I forgot," she said dully, and even to her own ears her voice sounded strained, "you don't dance with anyone but Trace, do you."
     
    Drake was silent for a moment longer, and then he stood. When Drake stood up it was never like the way anyone else stood up - Ashlyn clambered, Sky climbed, Restlyn rose gracefully. With Drake, one second he was on the ground, and the next he was standing, so smoothly and seamlessly that she was never sure if she'd seen him get up in the first place.
     
    "If you'll excuse me," he said quietly.
     
    Ashlyn nodded, not trusting herself to speak, listening to the muffled clicking of his boots against the dirt as he walked away from the Eternal Flame.
     
    Ugh.
     
    That was an experience worth forgetting! Scrambling to her feet, Ashlyn stomped over to the man who had forced her to sacrifice her dignity and hit on Drake.
     
    "What the hell are you doing?" she hissed in Toryn, shoving him up against one of the beams that supported the Cosmea sign. "Nice attempt at subtlety, moron. Why don't you just hang a sign around your neck that says, 'Spy for Toryn'? That is, if you don't think you're getting the point across well enough!" She eyed him suspiciously. "What's your name anyway, and what are you doing here?"
     
    "I am Lysato Shak of the clan Shak, and I am ensuring your safety, Lady Li," he answered, averting his eyes from her angry glare. "Assassins are everywhere."
     
    "I'm a ninja! Don't you think I can defend myself against a measly assassin or two?"
     
    "Of course, Lady, but - "
     
    "But nothing! If you hang around like this for the next three days, I'm going to have one heck of a time explaining it to the rest of FLD! Now scram!"
     
    "Actually," a voice came from behind her, "I'd rather you stick around for a while."
     
    Ashlyn turned on her heel and found herself staring at a black-vested chest. Gulping, she raised her eyes to see Skye staring down at her, his expression pinched and angry.
     
    "I can explain," she said quickly, forgetting to switch to Merchant Tongue.
     
    "You will. What happens in three days?" he asked, quiet rage in his voice.
     
    It took Ashlyn a second or two to realize her mistake, and a split-second longer to realize that he'd responded.
     
    Skye understood Toryn?
     
    Oh, crap. What had she said when she'd walked in to find him shirtless?
     
    Man, have I been missing out with this whole reclusive warrior gig.
     
    He'd been smiling.
     
    Oh, crap.
     
    Oh, crap.
     
    "Well?" he said, folding his arms across his chest.
     
    Ashlyn, still distraught over the shirt comment, promptly drew a blank. "Uh . . .