Reign of Shadows (13 page)

Gunner patted the fat satchel at his side then. “And we
intend to eat well for quite some time.”

A surge of bile rose up in my throat. From the size of the bulging satchel, I knew there had to be at least two heads in there. That must have been the odor Luna picked up. My nape prickled, panic scraping down my spine. If she could smell them, then the dwellers could, too. My gaze darted around, searching for a glimpse of them in the endless dark. They couldn't be far.

“You're not taking her head,” I growled.

Luna whimpered behind me, her fingers pressing deeper into my back.

“Now, boy. Don't get in the way. I'm not a man that relishes killing, but Gunner here won't hesitate to cut you down. We'll do what we have to.”

I let my arrow fly just as Gunner went for his dagger, sliding it from his sheath and brandishing it in the air. He didn't have time to launch it before the arrow stabbed him directly between the eyes with a thunk. He dropped like a stone.

Anselm launched himself at me before I was able to shoot again.

I fell with his weight atop me, all sharp angles and bones digging into me as he pulled back his arm and sent his knuckles crashing into my face.

Hot blood spurted from my nose and trickled into my mouth. Luna cried out and scrambled on the ground somewhere above my head.

I jabbed him in the eyes with my thumbs, grinding deep and pushing him off me. He fell back with a cry, groping for his knife
at his side. I went for my own blade, pulling it free.

I dodged the swipe of his knife and rolled. He came at me again. I hopped up, knees bent. Great breaths lifted our chests. We scanned each other, our surroundings, realizing almost in the same moment that he stood closer to Luna.

She trembled, hands knotted into fists at her sides as she stared in our direction, her head cocking to the side, listening for our movements.

Anselm's chest lifted, his breath hitching. He flipped his knife over in his grip, readjusting it to plunge overhead.

We dove for her simultaneously, but she sensed us coming and turned, sprinting into the orchard. I tackled him, slamming into his back. I lifted my blade and stabbed through his jacket into flesh and muscle.

He howled and turned, kicking me in the face. I fell back.

The eerie cry of a dweller ripped the air. Several more cries went up. They would be on us soon.

“They're coming,” I gasped, facing him again.

Anselm's wild, whiteless eyes fixed on my face. He smiled a crazy, mangled-toothed grin. “I always knew I'd die at the hands of a dweller.”

“It's to be today then?”

He hesitated, his gaze turning in the direction Luna fled. He glanced quickly at the sky, and I could see he was calculating how long we had.

“Midlight is still a few hours away,” I taunted.

Another cry fractured the air, closer this time. I turned
and spotted the shadowy shape of a creature coming down the moonlit path between trees. I could see the receptors at its face writhing like serpents. The dweller lumbered toward us, its head titling sideways to call out an alert to others. Another dark dweller materialized at the end of an opposite path.

“So what's it to be?” I asked, my voice detached. Urgency pumped through me to go after Luna, but I couldn't move until I knew he wasn't going to pursue her.

He snorted, and rolled one shoulder, wincing from where I had stabbed him in the back. “She's likely already dead out there.” He lowered his blade. “They won't leave anything of her to take back. Should have given her to me. It would have been a far kinder death.” He stuck the knife in his sheath and squatted at his dead friend, his stare never straying from me as he lifted his satchel of heads and looped the strap around his shoulder. He made quick work of taking his weapons, too. Finished, he flung Gunner's body back down and straightened.

Our gazes held. We didn't look away. It was as though we were indifferent to the advancing dweller, now only twenty yards away.

“Better hope we don't meet again.” With that threat, Anselm turned and jogged down an empty path with his bag of heads bumping at his side.

I took off in the direction Luna disappeared, scanning for a glimpse of her between every row of trees.

The cries of dwellers overlapped now, a cacophony of shrill, eerie calls. Blood was in the air and they were hungry for it.
There weren't any human screams amid the din, so I knew the only thing they had found to eat so far was Gunner. Yet they wouldn't stop there. They knew we were close.

I wiped the blood trickling down from my nose and then stopped to rub my hands in the dirt, getting rid of the scent. Rising, I kept moving.

I scanned the ground and the trees, conflicted whether I should call out for her or not. She had impeccable hearing. She would hear me, but so would they.

She could still be running, panicked and terrified. Although the image of her panicked and terrified didn't ring true. She was always coolheaded. She was probably hiding.

I rotated, my gaze sweeping the trees. The orchard was too big. She could be anywhere in here.

“Luna,” I called, straining for a sound. I moved swiftly, my bow at the ready.

“Fowler!”

I froze at the hushed call. I looked around, up, and spotted her in a tree, her pale face a smudge amid the dark tangle of branches. The air left me in a rush of relief.

Sliding my bow back on my shoulder, I grabbed hold of the trunk and scaled its width, grabbing one low-hanging branch with both hands. I dangled a moment from the branch, swinging my legs and gaining momentum until I managed to get my boots up and over the sturdy branch where Luna was crouched.

She stretched a hand for me and I took it, scooting up alongside her. Right now, the feel of her slim hand in mine felt right.
It fortified me. A few moments ago, men had wanted her head in a bag. My chest clenched tight, almost hurting. In this moment, touching her did not bother me in the least.

“Fowler.” My name shuddered out from her, and I realized she had thought she might not find me again. Perhaps she even thought me dead and herself on her own out here. The idea of her all alone sickened me almost as much as that man taking her head. Either one would be the end of her.

“Thought you lost me, did you?” I said, trying to lighten the mood.

A weak laugh escaped her. She quickly killed the sound as a dweller approached, shuffling below us. The feelers at its mouth wiggled, sensing its prey—us.

I'd seen several dwellers up close before. The receptors at the center of their faces varied in number and length. I'd seen one with as few as five and other dwellers with a whole nest of them a foot long, working in a frenzy like an army of writhing antennae.

I'd theorized that it had something to do with their age. Or perhaps it was related to their strength and stamina as hunters.

This one appeared average. No more than a dozen tentacle-like receptors worked on the air as it paused below our tree.

We fell silent, every muscle locked tight. I held my breath. I'd never known a dweller to climb a tree, but there was a first time for everything. After a moment, I realized I clutched Luna's hand. I was holding her fingers so tightly the blood had probably ceased to flow. I eased my grip, but she seized my hand, not letting me release her.

She shook her head, staring in my direction. A long dark strand of hair had come loose of her plait and dangled in her face. I brushed it back from her cheek, tucking it behind her ear.

We listened to the dweller as it moved, turning down another row of trees. Once it was far enough away that I couldn't see it anymore against the dark, I shifted my weight and settled back against the trunk, sliding my hand up her arm and pulling her close. Luna came willingly, curling herself into my body as eagerly and trusting as a child. My heart squeezed.

“Why?” she whispered. “Why do they want to kill girls?”

I scanned the ground below, assuring myself that no dwellers were in sight. “The king,” I corrected. “The king wants to kill girls. And I don't know why.”

“At least we know why they killed Dagne now.”

I nodded, my thumb moving in slow circles on the back of her hand.

“What am I going to do?” The question made her sound so alone, so lost and without anyone.

“We know now,” I said.

She nodded, but I could still tell she was troubled.

I tugged lightly at the end of her plait. “These will have to go.”

She lifted her chin, her eyebrows drawing together. “What?”

“You're already garbed as a boy in trousers. Let's make the transformation complete.”

“You want to turn me into a boy?” Her expression eased. “Ah. Yes, of course.”

“I'm not sure it will work. I'm certain you're not the only girl in this kingdom undergoing a gender change. People will be on the lookout for pretty boys, but from a distance you should pass.”

“Then you shall have to make me not pretty.”

“Easier said than done.” The moment the words escaped, I wished to have them back. Her head lifted, reminding me of an animal catching a new, alien scent.

“You think I'm pretty?” Hope rang in her voice.

“Fair enough,” I conceded. “I've seen worse.”

“Oh.” She exhaled, sounding faintly indignant. Even in the gloom, I could make out the heat creeping over her cheeks, the scarlet flush moving like an incoming storm on her pale cheeks. “I imagine you have a great deal of comparison. Growing up in the capital, there must have been a good many girls, far finer of face than I am.” She motioned into the night. “More than you might find roaming out here, I am certain.”

“Luna,” I broke in, but she didn't stop. Her whispered voice grew feverish and fast.

“No, no, I must have sounded pathetic, fishing for a compliment. The girl stuck in a tower all her life, starved for a bit of male attention.”

“Luna, enough.”

She stopped, her lips pressing into a stubborn line. An awkward pause rolled between us. Her head suddenly turned down, realizing she still clung to my hand. She let go and tucked her hand between her folded thigh and calf.

I looked out at the orchard and then back to her, sighing. “I wasn't exactly being truthful. You're passing fair.”

“You needn't say that to make me feel better. I'm blind. What do my looks matter to me?” She snorted. “Why do anyone's looks matter?”

“I'm not lying. Not now—I simply didn't want to admit—” I stopped and stared out into the sea of trees again, their black shapes etched on a slightly less black horizon. Frustration bubbled up in my chest. This was precisely what I had hoped to avoid.

“Admit what?”

A gust of breath spilled from my lips. She was right. There had been girls, women, back home. Most days it felt almost normal. People in the cobbled streets. A bustling market with tradesmen hawking their wares in the square. The swish of skirts as daughters and mothers passed me on the street on the way to the temple, hoping for a glimpse of, a word from, the Oracle. Sometimes there would be laughter draped over the odor of hope and desperation. Laughter as though all was well. You could almost pretend things were normal—except for the unrelenting night and monsters outside the city's walls.

“I admit,” I began, the words strangling me, “that I find you appealing.”

She stared at me with that impossibly penetrating gaze. It was probing and unnerving.

“You find me appealing?” Her brow knitted as though she was attempting to translate my words.

“Appealing. Attractive. You're pretty.” I released a small, breathless laugh. “And you're not a terrible travel companion either.”

Her smile was instantaneous then, blindingly bright, her teeth as white as the moon overhead. You'd think I'd given her the greatest gift, which only made me feel like a wretch because I'd given her so little.

“In the spirit of confession,” she said, a smile still playing about her mouth, “I'll admit that I share the sentiment.”

I laughed briefly until I managed to catch the sound and stifle it. I was quiet for a moment, basking in the strangeness of sitting in a tree side by side with a girl I had not known very long. She had been thrust upon me against my every wish, but here we were like two friends. Friends. I closed my eyes in one pained blink. There was the reality and there was nothing I could do about it now.

“Indeed? So I'm not a terrible travel companion?” I teased, noting the far-off figure of a dark dweller zigzagging between trees, his body a pale outline against the darker night. I paused, watching the creature fade deeper into the orchard. I looked back down at her. “Or is it that you find me pretty?”

“No, well, y-yes,” she stammered. “When you talk, your voice is attractive. Which isn't often, mind you.”

“So you like the way I talk?” I nodded, enjoying her discomfort. “What else?”

“Your arms and chest . . . the way you smell.” She leaned in suddenly, closer to my face, inhaling me. I stilled as the cold tip
of her nose brushed my throat.

Sensation zipped down to settle at the base of my spine in a way I had not felt in years. Not since . . .

It all came back to me in a rush. Flirting with Bethan outside her father's stall on market days until finally, one day when he was distracted haggling with an old woman over the price of bread, I pulled her into a nearby alley between stalls. I caressed her cheek in the stale darkness. And I kissed her.

I'd forgotten how it felt. The way the back of my skull pulled tight all the way down to my toes. That utter awareness of another person on a physical level. The want. The need. Desire.

Apparently, I wasn't totally numb, after all.

Luna lifted a hand and inched it toward my face. Even though I saw it coming, I flinched and backed away, knowing, fearing somehow, that the moment she touched me it would be all over. There would be no more ignoring her.