Reign of Shadows (15 page)

“People are coming to get us,” I murmured as the lift lowered.

“We're going up?”

“We are. There's a man coming down in a lift.”

“A city in the trees,” she repeated after me. “It's brilliant.”

“Almost as good as a tower?”

“Almost.” She nodded in agreement. I heard the smile in her voice.

The lift stopped inches before hitting the ground. “What are you waiting for?” The man motioned around us to the army of dwellers still closing in. “Get in. I'm not here to pick up dwellers, too.”

I stepped onto the waiting lift, making room for Luna. The space wasn't very big and the three of us had to stand close.

As we ascended, I looked down, watching as dwellers of all shapes converged on the spot we stood only moments ago. Several tilted their heads up, the sensors on their grotesque faces writhing as we lifted higher and higher, climbing up into the city nestled between thick trees.

One glance up revealed we were almost to the top.

“Let me do the talking,” I whispered into her ear. “Stay back behind me.”

When the lift stopped, I saw that it opened to a landing. Several dozen people milled about, including the archers who had come to our aid.

They craned their necks to get a glimpse of us. Amid the
mass of people there was a decided lack of young women—proof that news of the king's decree had reached here.

The man who shared the lift with us stepped out and turned, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. “Welcome.” He was almost bald. A shadow of gray hugged his skull, the stubble of new hair growth.

I nodded, my gaze flitting from him to the men flanking him. “Thank you.” I understood their caution. I would be cautious of any newcomers, too.

But that didn't mean I trusted them either.

“I'm Glagos, sheriff of Ortley. Is it just you and the boy?” His gaze dipped down to the forest floor as though we had left others below. He fingered a thick-ridged scar that bisected his cheek.

“Yes. This is my brother.” I tapped my head. “Don't expect too much from him. He's a little slow.”

Glagos's gaze considered Luna for a moment. A quick glance back revealed she was doing her part, looking sideways rather vacantly, her expression vague and absentminded.

“I see. Are you both looking to settle here—”

“We're just moving through. Hoping to refresh and gather more supplies. Dried kelp if you have any to—”

“We don't just pass out our reserves to every stranger. We do nothing out of the kindness of our hearts. I don't need to explain to you just how hard life is.”

“No. You don't. I'm willing to work for any supplies.”

“Good. That's the only way you'll get any.” Glagos grinned, but there was something in that smile that made me uneasy. “We
always need able-bodied men.” His gaze flicked to Luna and he went back to stroking the puckered skin of his scar. “Don't expect he's much of a worker. You'll have to—”

“I can work enough for both of us. Whatever you need.”

“Very good.” He nodded, looking pleased. He glanced around, scanning the crowd. “Now let's see. We'll board you with—”

“Me.” An old woman stepped forward, her cane thumping on the wood planks. Her back was hunched and bent. It looked painful. I was surprised she could still walk.

She smiled a mostly toothless grin, her rheumy eyes gazing me up and down before fixing on Luna. “I'll take them.”

“H
ERE WE ARE
,” the old woman said. “I've two spare rooms. Bigger than what most people have here. It's just me now. My family's gone. I've some skills so they've allowed me this luxury.”

A room to myself would be a step above sleeping in trees or buried deep in shrubs or the occasional cave. And yet not being close to Fowler anymore would be strange. I didn't know if I would feel entirely safe without his steady breath beside me.

“My name is Mirelya,” the old woman added.

Fowler made a small sound that I took for agreement. “Thank you, Mirelya. We won't be here long.”

I immediately evaluated my surroundings, measuring the
airflow, sensing obstructions, estimating the room's width and length. I processed it all, my measurements clicking through my mind like dominoes dropping into position. I had a fairly good sense of where the walls ended and began. My boots thudded lightly over the plank flooring. The front window was open, its leather draping flapping lightly in a breeze, letting in a gust of wind that smelled pungent, ripe with the scent of dwellers gathered below the village.

Somewhere, a few houses over, a baby cried. It was strange hearing that sound and knowing it for what it was without having ever heard it before. A baby alive amid all this made tears burn at the backs of my eyes. This place could have been my sanctuary. High in the trees, it could have been an echo of the life Perla and Sivo described to me. The kind of life my parents had lived. Free. The king's decree made that impossible, of course. Plus Fowler would never stay here. His dream was Allu.

The gentle aroma of candle wax weaved with the warm, yeasty scent of bread. I inhaled deeply, reveling in it. It smelled like home. I brushed my fingers along the back of a chair, thinking of Sivo and Perla, hoping they were well.

“I am certain you desire to leave with all haste.” Mirelya laughed then, a full-bodied laugh that cracked like dry leaves underfoot and ended in a hacking cough.

I winced. “Are you well? Do you need some water?” There was a pitcher on the table, crisp water within it.

“I'm fine. Older than I have any right to be. I've buried two husbands and four children, but somehow I'm still here. If I'm
lucky, my time will come soon enough.”

I shifted on my feet awkwardly, uncertain how to respond to that. I hoped that if I had such a long life, my years would consist of more than a constant fight to stay alive.

I cleared my throat, thinking I should probably say something. Fowler wasn't the most talkative sort, but some manner of acknowledgment should be given to this woman for stepping forward and offering her home to us. “Well, it's very kind of you to welcome us into your—”

“Kind is right. With girls getting their heads taken these days, I expect not everyone would be as understanding to discover that you're female and not a boy at all.”

I froze. Even my chest ceased to lift with breath.

Fowler stiffened beside me. The moment stretched forever. I risked movement, raising my arm as though to touch Fowler, but he stepped forward suddenly, closer to Mirelya. My hand fell back to my side, fingers curling inward, brushing my palm.

“What?” he demanded. “You think he's a . . . girl—”

“No use making a grand show of denying it. I knew the moment she walked off the lift.” Her no-nonsense voice rang out. “Just as I expect it's never far from your mind either, eh? Is it?”

I frowned, not sure what she was implying. Of course Fowler was aware that I was a female.

Mirelya laughed. “Oh. Still dancing around the obvious, are we? Young people. You behave as though you have all the time in the world for matters of the heart.”

Shaking my head, I grumbled, “You make no sense.”

“Look at his face. He understands me well enough,” she said smugly, a hum of laughter in her voice.

“Your vision must be impaired, old woman. This is my brother.”

“Now you're just being insulting. Shall I step outside and gather other opinions? We can settle this entire matter by asking her to disrobe.”

My heart jerked in my chest.

Fowler inhaled. It was subtle, almost imperceptible. I felt its vibration pass through me like my own breath. He was beaten and worried. Maybe even afraid for me. Fowler, who never seemed rattled by anything. This only made me more on edge.

I turned my attention back to Mirelya, the woman who held my fate. One signal, one word from her, and my head would be separated from my body. A shuddery breath passed through my lips. Perhaps it was already inevitable.

“What now?” I asked. “Will you tell?”

“Telling gets me nothing. What's one month's rations? My time here is almost over. I need little food these days.”

I nodded, feeling only minor relief. Was my disguise that transparent? Had anyone else guessed the truth and simply held silent, waiting for a moment to catch me unaware? Tonight, sleeping alone in a bed, would a blade come down on my throat?

A feeling of aloneness swept over me. I hugged myself, wrapping my arms around my middle. There wasn't a bounty on Fowler. It was on me. He could go. Perhaps he should. There was nothing but the promise Sivo had coerced from him, and the
king's decree made things more complicated and more dangerous in an already dangerous world. It wasn't fair to him.

A finger brushed over the back of my hand. Startled, I lowered my arms. Fowler's touch followed. He hooked a single finger around mine, linking us.

“Luna,” he murmured near my ear. “It's going to be fine.”

My chest tightened and before I could stop myself I turned my hand around to squeeze his and hold tightly.

His palm turned over, fingers lacing with mine. It didn't matter what Mirelya saw. She knew the truth about me.

“I'm good at keeping secrets,” Mirelya added. “I don't share the things I can see if it's going to hurt anyone. There's enough pain in this life already. I won't add to it.”

“Thank you,” Fowler said.

“I'll also keep the fact that she's blind to myself.”

At this added declaration, my legs felt suddenly weak. I released Fowler's hand and inched toward the table, following the faint bite of oak.

I sank down into a chair. “How did you know?”

Somehow this woman had seen straight to the truth. Fowler hadn't even realized I couldn't see until hours after we first met.

“I can see things. I've always been able to see things.” The floor creaked softly beneath her weight. The air stirred as she sank down in a chair beside me.

I moistened my lips, turning my face toward her. “How? What do you mean?”

I started a little as she took my hand, closing it in both of
hers. Her hands were large and thick with bone, her palms padded with rough calluses. Her fingers stroked my palms, her touch feather light, following the lines and dips and contours of my palm.

I tried to calm my shaking hand, hating the telltale shiver that coursed through me.

“You're saying you possess the sight?” Fowler asked sharply, moving directly behind me, his boots thudding a few steps. I felt his shadow over me like a physical thing, a cloak floating above me, ready to drop and shield me at the first sign of threat.

I shouldn't have liked the sensation. I shouldn't have needed it. I pulled my shoulders back, thrusting my hand into hers, welcoming her to say whatever it was she saw carved on my skin.

“I did not say that,” Mirelya hedged, her voice evasive.

“But you see her fate? There on her hand?” There was a sharp edge in his voice. His hand landed on my shoulder, squeezing ever so slightly like he wanted to pull me away from her.

“I'm no oracle if that's what you're after, but I have strong intuition.”

“The possibility that you're even a little like the king's Oracle, who might be even more mad than the king, offers little relief.” Fowler practically snarled the words at her.

She tapped at the center of my palm, indifferent to him. “You should be grateful. What I see here can help you both.”

“No,” Fowler growled. “We don't want to hear anything that you—”

“Help me how?” I asked, cutting him off.

“Knowledge is power,” she responded.

“Luna,” Fowler warned. “You don't want to hear—”

“Now. I'm no oracle, but I see enough to know you're the one they are after.”

My head lifted. “Me?”

“Yes, you. You are the one the king is looking for . . . the reason he's killing half the females left in Relhok.”

Her words sank like rocks through silt, chugging through me slowly, difficult to hear aloud even though I had already concluded as much. Now I had to face it. Now Fowler knew.

“How d-do you know that,” I stammered.

“Oh, my, yes. It's you,” she asserted.

For a moment not a sound could be heard. No one moved. It was as though I had stepped in a sudden vacuum of silence. I felt like I had been dropped into a very deep and endless well occupied by no one save me. It was only me and my beating heart. The blood a dull rush in my ears. The king wanted me dead. Either I let him hunt me or I figured out a plan that did not amount to me running for the rest of my life while countless innocents died because of me.

Fowler finally broke the silence. “What do you mean the king is after her? He doesn't know anything about her. She's just a girl . . .” His voice faded, but I heard what he was saying: I was just some girl he found. Not anyone who mattered. Not anyone who could be important to a king.

I shook off my silent stupor.

“It can't be because of me,” I finally said, deciding to play
ignorant. The less they knew about me, about the truth, the safer they were. “Why would the king be after me?”

“You're the one,” Mirelya was quick to reply. “The one true heir to the throne.”

I stood with a gasp, the mad urge to run seizing me. She had seen the truth I was desperate to protect. Even beyond my gender and blindness, she knew this most important detail about me. And she spoke it aloud.

“Luna?” Fowler's voice was whisper soft. At my silence, he turned to Mirelya. “What are you saying?”

“Oh, you don't know who she is?” Mirelya laughed lightly. “What other secrets do you keep from each other?”

I tried for denial again, shaking my head, but this time the lies would not come. “I've admitted nothing.”

“You needn't admit anything for me to see the truth, girl. You are the late king of Relhok's daughter. The one they said was never born before the queen died the night of the eclipse, at the hands of dwellers—”

“It wasn't dwellers,” I snapped, unable to suffer the lie that had been spread following my parents' deaths. “It was the chancellor. Cullan. He killed them both and blamed their deaths on the rise of the dwellers. Then he declared himself king.”

My outburst was met with silence and I knew I had essentially just announced myself to be the one true heir to the throne.

“You're the princess of Relhok?” Fowler's gravelly deep voice was quiet but full of incredulity. His hand slipped from my
shoulder. I turned as though I could see him just behind me.

“Well,” Mirelya murmured. “Would this not make her the queen?”

“Stop! I'm not a princess or a queen.” At least I didn't feel like it. Not sitting here in boys' clothes, travel weary and covered in grime.

“Why did you not tell me?”

“It wasn't important—”

“You didn't think such a detail important?”

“No!”

“Well, apparently you're important enough for the king to wish dead,” Fowler accused.

It was sobering to hear this announced aloud. He was right. It was bad enough to know that girls my age were being killed all across the kingdom, but to know it was because of me. . . . I couldn't run from this reality any longer.

My shoulders sagged under the weight of this knowledge. It wasn't something I could carry. “I have to stop him.”

“What did you say?” Fowler demanded.

I pulled back my shoulders. “He has to be stopped.”

“There's no stopping Cullan. Just get that thought out of your head.” Fowler paced an angry line across the room. “We'd need an army to do that.”

“Or just a girl,” I offered. “Once he has me, there would be no need for him to keep killing girls.” I exhaled and released an uncomfortable laugh. “It's that simple.”

“You're out of your mind. There's nothing simple about that.
Travel back across the entire kingdom to reach the capital? Even if you could, even if we make our way inside the city, what then? You just surrender yourself? They would kill you. You would die.”

The echo of laughter faded from my lips. “I know that. I didn't expect to stop him and live.”

I would die, but others—so many others—they would live. Is that not what a proper queen would do for her people?

“Absolutely not.”

I propped my hands on my hips. “The choice isn't yours.”

He stepped up close to me, his face near my own. I felt his warm breath on my cheek. “You're not doing this.”

Tension crackled between us, looking for somewhere to go, an outlet that wasn't going to appear. Neither one of us was backing down.

Mirelya's voice broke in. “Why don't you both sleep on the matter? Whatever happens, Fowler is going to have to work tomorrow. That's the price of staying here and gathering supplies. He will need his rest for the day ahead.”

“That sounds like a fine idea,” Fowler agreed. “Maybe you'll see logic tomorrow.”

I nodded as though I would change my mind, but I would not. I knew what I had to do.

Fowler avoided me for the rest of the night and into the next morning, leaving me alone in the house with Mirelya.

“He's not going to come around to your way of thinking,
girl,” Mirelya said as she washed our breakfast dishes. I didn't need to ask her what she was talking about.