“You’re Avery, right?”
“Huh?” Azler looked up from the boot he was shining, startled. He hadn’t heard the new guy approaching him at all. Had he really been so focused on his task that he had forgotten to stay alert? Or was this something else? Something suspicious?
“Avery? Avery Grant?” The boy blinked at him, innocent, as if he didn’t realize how silent his arrival had been. Maybe it was just a matter of Azler relaxing a little too much.
“Um, yes? Can I help you with something?”
“That Edmund guy said you wanted to ask me a question?” Leave it to Edmund to take direct action in this. “So?” He ran his hand through his dirty blond hair in a way that made Azler suspect that he wasn’t used to keeping it so short. He clearly hadn’t been in the military for very long.
“What’s your name?”
“Andrew?”
“And how old are you?”
“Eighteen.”
“No you’re not.” Azler insisted. “You look barely sixteen.”
Andrew shifted his weight from one foot to the other, eyes darting around the murky darkness of the barracks. “I am.”
“Look, kid, this isn’t a playground or something. You should back out now before it’s too late.” Azler reached toward him slowly, tactfully. All he needed was one graze of skin and he would know everything. He was just fifty centimeters away from adding this child to the collection of lifetimes he had obtained over the years, forty centimeters, thirty and-
Andrew took a step back.
“I-I’m good. I know what I’ve gotten myself into.”
“Are you sure? I know a guy who can get you sent back home, no questions asked.”
“No. It’s fine.” He stuffed his hands deep in his pockets, eliminating any possibility for Azler to come in contact with his skin, at least any that wouldn’t be extremely inappropriate at this time. “I should go.”
Azler didn’t object. He watched the kid slouch out of sight, out of reach. There would be more chances to figure Andrew out in the future. As long as he lasted in this place, anyway.
After that, would it really matter?
“Did you get anything?” Jaskier poked his head down from the bunk above him, grin wide with mischief.
“Huh? How long were you up there?”
“About an hour. But I’ve been tailing you all day.”
“Seriously? Why?”
Jaskier chuckled, raspy and mischievous.
Azler rolled his eyes. “You should be more careful. Your hair is gonna turn back to blue if you keep using your magic.”
“Not if I dye it.” Jaskier slunk onto the floor like a bundle of wet towels. “You got a letter, by the way.” He retrieved an envelope from the inside pocket of his coat, handing it over.
“A letter? Nobody sends me letters.” Everybody in Azler’s life was dead or thought he was dead.
At least…everybody except for Amalia.
But Amalia wouldn’t be sending him letters, not unless she wanted him back. Had something happened to Piznip? Surely there was nothing going on back home that would have put her in danger?
Azler’s fingers grazed the paper encasing the answer to his question. There was no return address, no indication of personality, and nothing that could tell him who this letter was from. He tried to remember what Amalia’s handwriting had looked like in order to compare, but he came up blank. Just because he could see the memories of everybody he touched didn’t mean he could remember all the little details almost ten years later.
The only way he would be able to know for sure was to open it.
His fingers slipped beneath the seal.