When I returned, Aya had finished eating and was staring into the fire, arms wrapped around herself.
"Bad news?" she asked without looking up.
"The council wants to test you, but I told them that it would never happen."
Aya’s eyebrows drew up in concern. “Oh.”
Later that night, after showing her where everything was and ensuring she had what she needed, I retreated to my sleeping chamber. Sleep evaded me. My thoughts kept returning to Aya in the next room.
Before dawn, a soft but distinct sound awakened me. Crying.
I moved silently through the cave, finding Aya huddled on her bed of furs, shoulders shaking with quiet sobs.
"Aya." My voice startled her. She quickly wiped her face.
"Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you."
"You didn't." I hesitated at the entrance to her chamber. "What's wrong?"
"Everything?" She gave a watery laugh. "I'm far from home, around shadow people who hate me.."
I moved closer, uncertain how to comfort her. Human emotions were still largely a mystery to me.
"They don't hate you."
"They don't want me here."
"They're protecting themselves. It's what we've always done."
She looked up at me, eyes shining with tears in the dim light. "And what are you doing? Protecting them from me, or..."
"Protecting you," I admitted. The realization surprised me as much as it seemed to surprise her.
"Why? Because some test said we're compatible?"
"Because something in me recognizes something in you."
Her breathing hitched. "I felt it too, when you found me. Like the shadows knew me."
I knelt beside her bed, closer than I'd allowed myself to be since bringing her here. "May I show you something?"
She nodded, curiosity replacing some of the sadness in her expression.
I called to the shadows of the room, gathering them to me, not to frighten but to comfort. They responded eagerly, twiningaround my arms like living extensions. Slowly, carefully, I extended my hand toward her.
"Most humans fear this," I warned.
"I'm not most humans, remember?"
The shadows flowed from me to her, surrounding her in gentle darkness. Instead of constricting, they formed a cocoon of warmth, like a blanket woven from night itself. I waited for her to recoil, to show the instinctive fear humans had of our abilities.
But Aya closed her eyes and leaned into the sensation.
"It feels like being held," she whispered. "Safe."
My breath caught. No outsider had ever described our shadow manipulation that way.
"You're not afraid."
