The Right to Die | ✓ Amby Winner 2023

9. This Ghastly Hour

Two days later, M'yu awoke with a shadow hovering over him. His muscles tightened, but he kept his breathing even. Air puffed softly against his face. Mint was a weird scent for an attacker, but that didn't stop M'yu from rolling and throwing himself to the opposite side of the bed. The blankets tumbled to the floor, and M'yu sprung to his feet in a fighter's stance, flicking out his pocket knife.

The Ghost of the Gold House gasped, hand flying over her mouth. M'yu sagged in relief. "What are you doing?"

Her lip quivered. "I was waiting for you to wake up. I thought we might play before you ran off to school."

M'yu raked a hand down his face, then glanced outside. The sun hadn't even come up yet. Between errands, Aevryn's lectures, and Ghostie's puppy-dog eyes, M'yu hadn't had a moment of respite. Then after dinner, Aevryn had kept him up late, cramming do's and don't's down his throat. M'yu had hoped to have at least one good night of rest before traipsing into the herd of killer kittens sharpening their claws at Scrollschool.

The way his nerves were jittering now, that wasn't going to happen. "Why don't we play hide-and-seek?" he obliged, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.

"That's too easy." She pouted. "I'll win."

He peeked out underneath his hand. "Is that a challenge? Because I've got this building memorized pretty well now."

She giggled and ran off. M'yu shook his head and closed the door after her, shouting counts as he pulled on one of the outfits Aevryn had bought for him yesterday. They fit better than anything M'yu had ever worn before, but the man had still grumbled that they'd need to get them taken in. A draft through the window shifted the hairs against M'yu's ears, but he knelt with his shoes in front of the fire and let the heat dispel the chill.

"...fifty-one, fifty-two..." he said, tying the last of the laces. Standing, he stuffed his knife in his pocket, then kneeled to recover the lockpicks from beneath the rug and added those too. He considered the witchcandy he'd shoved beneath the nightstand, but shook his head and popped to his feet. "...fifty-eight, fifty-nine..."

M'yu opened the door and drew short. Aevryn filled the doorway, glaring down at him. "Ready or not, here I am."

M'yu stepped back, swallowing. "Morning, Aevryn."

The man didn't come in. "You're up early."

"Big day, right?"

"You'd best not sound that nervous when you arrive."

"I'd be less nervous if you'd tell me what you were here for...?" M'yu's fingers twined together.

"As you wish." He stepped in now, but just enough to loom over M'yu. "You are not to bother Lady Ashya."

"Bother?" M'yu sputtered. "She—"

Aevryn raised a brow.

M'yu clamped his mouth shut. Biting back a string of much less savory words, he finally grit out, "Yes, sir."

"Good." Aevryn turned to go. "If you're up already, we might as well get a headstart on the day. The hover is waiting at the front. I will meet you there."

He swept away, and M'yu sighed. And here he'd been thinking they'd made progress. Rotting Caps. He glanced over his shoulder to the nightstand once more, then shook his head and left the room.

Evriss waited for him by the door with a biscuit in a napkin. "Stay out of trouble, sir."

M'yu's head quirked, taking the food. "Most people wish someone luck."

The old man chuckled. "If you have half the talent the prince says, you need wisdom more than luck."

M'yu flushed. "Thanks for the biscuit," he murmured, and slipped out to the hover. By the time Aevryn arrived, M'yu was licking the crumbs from his fingers.