Reign of Shadows (18 page)

I turned, inhaling, marking their scent. They were thicker to my right. The slight snuffling sounds they made were there, their wet breaths huffing on the breeze, growing closer.

It was enough to force me to my feet. I staggered, fighting past the throbbing in my knee and overall aches, weaving through the trees, extending my hands, palms out, brushing shrubs and rough bark, feeling my way as I ran.

He was on the ground now, too. “Stupid girl! Get back here!” his angry shout rang out. I could feel them out there, dwellers hunting me, too.

I pushed my legs harder, dodging where I smelled or heard dwellers, but there were so many—like the first day I arrived with Fowler.

“They're going to get you! Is that what you want, girl?”

Gradually, it grew quieter. I felt their sudden absence. The lack of their loamy musk on the air.

They were gone.

I paused, my chest aching, hard breaths sawing from my lips.

I lifted my face to air that felt thinner, not as dense as the night. It was midlight.

I flew into motion. They might be gone, but he wasn't.

Anselm was still after me, coming faster now, hunting me harder now that it was midlight and the dwellers were gone. It was just the two of us.

I
HOPPED DOWN
from the wagon and moved ahead of the group, eager to rest my eyes on Luna again and assure myself she was well. I ignored the parts of me that felt chewed up by a meat grinder. A little salve on my wounds, a night's rest, and I'd be fine and ready to go. My ankle was still tender from where that creature had nearly snapped the bone before I managed to saw through the tentacle and free myself.

The sooner we left this place behind the better. I would not be going out on the lake again. I'd take what kelp I had earned, and put this place behind me.

My gaze scanned the mist-shrouded ground. The forest
stirred, everything coming to life while the dwellers were at rest. My gaze drifted up to the city in the trees. I waited impatiently as the lift descended for us, shifting on my feet. Leaving Luna this long ate at me. I would never do it again.

I was the first to hop inside the lift. Glagos stepped on with me, waving away the boy who had stood with us on the boat for the last twenty-four hours, tossing down remarks that were of little help as I hacked at kelp and fought off all manner of creatures hungry for a taste of me.

I had almost died out there. Glagos knew that. His cold stare made that much clear. He just didn't care.

“How many die out there?” I asked mildly.

He shrugged. “You made it and gathered a nice amount of kelp in the process. We could use you here.”

“I'm sure you could.” My lips curled. He'd happily let me continue risking my neck for them. “I did what you asked. I'm taking my supplies and leaving.”

He waved a hand, cutting through the milky air. “You might want to reconsider. Alone out there . . . is it so much better than staying here?”

With Luna it was impossible to stay here. I shook my head.

He shrugged. “Fine. There are others to take your place. Drifters come through here all the time.” And I was sure many stayed here, buried at the bottom of that lake, bones picked clean.

The lift stopped at the top with a jar, the chains jangling and clinking. I stepped out onto the landing. My clothes stuck to my wounds, the dried and crusted blood tugging on the torn
flesh with every movement. Peeling the clothes from my body was going to be unpleasant.

I spotted Mirelya standing among the small crowd that had assembled to greet all those returning from the boats.

She started toward me, her cane ringing out with each strike on the wood. Her gaze darted down once, almost guiltily, before meeting my eyes. Her color was poor, too. Something was wrong. I knew it with one sweep of my gaze.

I reached her in two strides and leaned down to her hunkered and bent frame, speaking in a low voice. “Mirelya, what is it? Where is—”

“She's gone,” she whispered for my ears alone.

“She left the village?” I went cold. Had she left without me? Was she heading to Relhok City?

A memory assailed me. I'd fought so hard to forget it, but suddenly it was upon me.

Two years ago, after leaving Relhok, I'd gone south, knowing that I wouldn't be looked for there. The dwellers had ravaged the south. It was rumored no town or city stood intact. My father wouldn't think to hunt for me there.

I had no purpose then. I had not yet decided to go to Allu. That had been Bethan's dream. It could not be mine.

I found a village. There wasn't much left of Edmon. Just a few cottages that surrounded a stone mill at the edge of a loch. The remaining villagers lived inside its stone walls, sleeping on straw pallets, waiting listlessly in the dark for death to come.

Not living, merely surviving. Foraging during midlight for
scraps. Eating bugs and vermin. There had been a boy. Only nine years old. Donnan always wanted to join me, but I made him stay behind when I left to hunt or forage. One day he followed me.

I turned back when I heard his screams, but I was too late. By the time I caught up to him, there was nothing left that resembled the boy. I failed him like I had Bethan. Like I was failing Luna.

No. Not again.

“A man came . . . carried a reeking bag of heads.” Mirelya's fingers dug like claws into my arm. “He was looking for you both. He knew she was there. He knew she wasn't a boy.”

My voice shook out of me. “He took her?”

“No. She fled. He chased her through the village.” She pointed to the trees that crowded the edge of the lift. “She made her way down. She's out there—”

The words had barely left her mouth before I was back in the lift, catching it before it descended to pick up the rest of the men. I paced the small lift space, scanning the countryside as I traveled back down, craning my neck and peering into the cloudy midlight air.

I was halfway down when I spotted movement in the trees. My hands slammed against the caged wall, staring hard at that one spot. A person was running. It wasn't Luna. This was a man. I recognized his gait from the other day in the orchard. My gaze skipped ahead of him, searching for a glimpse of Luna, but trees blocked my view, and then I was too low, almost to the ground again.

I yanked the door open with a rattle. Others crowded me, ready to hop on.

“Hey, where you going?” the boy from the boat called as I shoved past him and took off.

I ran. Legs pumping, blood roaring in a rush in my ears. I flew, weaving through trees, jumping over fallen logs and debris as if I hadn't spent the last twenty-four hours swimming and fighting in that lake.

My breath crashed with the rhythm of my pounding feet.

I heard a sound and pulled to a hard stop, swallowing my breath so I could listen. I jerked to the right and followed the noise. I spotted Anselm's tall, thin frame through the trees and just beyond him . . . Luna. He was strides from her, a hatchet in his hand. He swung down. Missed.

I roared, arms pumping as savagely as my legs ran. I closed in. Anselm whirled around, shock crossing his gaunt features as I jumped through the air and collided with him. I pinned him down, sending his hatchet flying. I choked him at the throat with one hand, bringing my sword down and pushing it straight through his chest.

He choked, and shuddered under me. Glassy eyes stared straight through me. An expression of shock fixed itself to his harsh features.

I gasped, laboring for breath as I fell back. The sword remained buried in his chest. My back hit the ground as I stared up, my gaze lost in the canopy of thick, swaying branches.

“Fowler!” Luna scrambled to my side. She took my hand, her
warm fingers closing around my blood-slicked fingers.

“Luna.” My stare slid over her face, drinking in her every feature. The cuts and bloody scrapes and scratches made me wince. I stroked her pale cheek with my other hand, cringing at the smear of blood I left on her. “Are you hurt? Did he harm you?”

“No, I'm fine.” She bowed her head, resting her forehead against mine, her sweet breath fanning my cheek. “You made it back.”

I smiled. “I told you I would.” Sucking in another breath, I rose, pulling her up after me. “Come. We need to hurry and get back.” The dull glow of midlight was fading on the air.

I pulled my sword free of Anselm's body, wiped it clean in the dirt and leaves, and then started back toward the lift. She walked close beside me, and I couldn't stop myself.

I reached for her hand, folding her warm fingers into mine as I pulled her closer.

T
HE SCENTS OF
Mirelya's cottage surrounded me, at once familiar and comforting. I inhaled the aroma of dried herbs and bread as I stretched my aching muscles. I was going to be sore for a good while. Sore, but alive.

Tears burned in my eyes, and I feverishly blinked them back. The coals crumbled and popped in the small stove in my room, warming the air, but I still couldn't chase away the cold. Cleaned up, with a sticky salve that smelled of mint and nisan root applied to my wounds, I inhaled raggedly. I was safe and out of immediate danger, but that didn't stop me from shivering. I couldn't relax. Tension knotted my shoulders, refusing to loosen.

Perhaps that's what being on the Outside was. It was listening hard to every sound and never breathing easy. Never relaxing. Never feeling warm. Never allowing yourself to believe that for one single moment you could be safe.

Always running.

My teeth clacked and I clenched my jaw until my face muscles ached.

I shivered from the cold. It had to be because I was cold. It couldn't be my near brush with death. I shook my head slightly. I'd had close calls before. My life had become a series of close calls.

Fowler was there. I sensed him like my own heartbeat inside my chest. Somehow he had become a part of me. As intrinsic as the blood in my veins. It tempted me to stay, fixed to his side even though I knew what I had to do. That hadn't changed.

“Here.” Fowler's fingers brushed my shoulders as he draped a thick fur around me and I shivered for an entirely different reason. We hadn't come into physical contact since he held my hand on the way back to the lift, and I felt the absence of his touch keenly. A physical ache that I had no right to feel, but it was there nonetheless. “Are you well? Do you need Mirelya to see to your wounds?”

I shook my head. “No, she's done enough.”

He turned to move, leaving me alone in my room, but I reached out, grabbing his wrist before I could consider the wisdom of touching him.

“You came for me,” I whispered, my chest twisting with
emotion as I considered what would have happened if he had been even a few moments later.

The bed sank with his weight beside me.

I felt a flutter of movement near my cheek and I lifted my face, but the touch never came. Instead it was his voice, as hard and final as a hammer falling, that reached me. “We need to move. It's too dangerous to stay here now, Luna. Too many saw him chasing you. It won't be long before they come nosing around.”

“You're ready to go right now?” I shook my head, my stomach churning. This would take some planning. It would be harder to slip away from him when it was just the two of us on the Outside. He would track me down before I got very far. “Midlight is the safest time to leave, don't you think? Tomorrow is soon enough.”

“Luna—”

I stopped him by pressing my fingers to his mouth.

“Tomorrow,” I insisted, my pulse fluttering at my neck. My stomach clenched.

This day would be the last I'd have of him. Perhaps it was selfish, even foolish, but I wanted it. One more day and night together for me to cling to during the days and nights I was on my own.

He'd brought me this far. He hadn't wanted me with him in the beginning, but he cared about me now—at least whether I lived or died. Something told me I was one on a short list of people he cared about. Maybe I was the only one. My heart swelled, feeling privileged to have that.

“Luna.” My name sounded pained, strangled and choked
against my fingers. “The things you do to me . . .”

“Show me,” I challenged.

“We can't—”

“You mean you won't?” I dropped my hand from his face. He didn't realize this was all the time we would have. He was tossing it aside when I needed it to be everything—a final, sweet memory to carry with me.

I turned away, but then he spun me back around. His hands held me by the shoulders, then my face. Warm palms rasped against my cheeks, pulling me in. Those hands anchored me, holding me as his mouth came down on mine.

His mouth was all I felt. This single searing contact became my entire world. His lips on my lips, moving, caressing, sliding and slanting, giving and taking.

I clung to his shoulders, my fingers curling deep into the hardness of his body.

He lowered me back on the furs. I went willingly. He balanced his elbows on either side of me, careful not to crush me, but I wanted that. I needed the weight of him, all his warmth to envelope me.

He kissed me until my lips felt tingly and swollen and I couldn't breathe. I didn't need to breathe though. I just needed his mouth.
Him
. My bones melted alongside my muscles. All of me felt like warm pudding, sinking beneath him.

My hands roamed, free finally to touch, free to feel and memorize all of him. My fingers tangled in the strands of hair that brushed his warm neck. I stroked silky tips, tugging gently.

He growled into my mouth and I swallowed the sound, taking it into me. My chest swelled and tightened. A sense of empowerment flowed through me, heady with the rush that I affected him. That I made him feel.

I shoved his jacket off his shoulders. He pulled back slightly without severing our kiss, allowing me to slide it the rest of the way down his arms.

I touched his bare throat, fingers gliding to the top of his chest, as far as his shirt would allow.

“Fowler,” I sighed against his lips.

He pulled back and I felt his gaze on me, his hands holding my face. His thumbs grazed the edges of my mouth. “I've fought this, Luna.”

“What? What is it you're fighting?”

“You. Me. I wasn't supposed to feel this way for anyone. Everyone that ever matters, I lose.”

The tightness in my chest turned into a throbbing ache. “So you're saying that I matter to you?”

A shudder rolled through him that I felt to my very depths. “You matter to me. You're the only thing that matters anymore.”

I smiled, trying to hide the curve of my lips with my hand, feeling like one of the lovesick swains in that book of poetry that belonged to my mother.

He tugged my hand down. “You don't need to hide from me. Especially not your lips. How will I kiss them?”

I smiled openly then, exposed. “You make me happy,” I admitted, “but I know you didn't want this between us. You
didn't want to care about me. I feel as though I owe you an apology. You were set on one course and then I came along—”

“And changed everything. Thank you for that.” His mouth brushed mine once, then again, lingering before lifting up. “Don't apologize. I'm not sorry and you shouldn't be either. I'm done fighting this . . . you . . . us.”

We kissed again. Feverish, breathless kisses. To think we could have been doing this sooner? I almost wanted to weep at the lost time. Why fight it indeed?

“Exactly,” he muttered against my mouth and I realized I had spoken aloud.

Then all words stopped. The pressure of his mouth grew deeper, more urgent. We had almost missed this.

And tomorrow I would. Tomorrow I'd be gone from here and there would be no more of this ever again.

A deep pang punched me in the chest. I wanted this and not just for now. I wanted it to be like this always. But more important than this happiness I had found with him was saving the lives of countless others.

I pushed him onto his back, taking charge, desperate for him, to make the memory of this so indelible that I never forgot it.

“Luna,” he muttered, my name slipping free from our melded mouths. His hand trailed through my hair, reverent and caressing.

Mirelya's cane banged on the floor outside the room. “Everything all right in there?”

We tore apart with mutual gasps, my pulse jumping against my throat at the intruding voice.

“Her timing could be improved,” Fowler panted.

I nodded shakily, pushing tendrils of hair back from my face as I sat up.

His hand cupped my cheek, thumb grazing my skin in small circles. I covered his hand with my own, clinging to him, turning my face to kiss his palm. I needed him. I needed to make this night everything because it was all I would ever have. Even if I survived what the future held, I wouldn't have Fowler again. He'd be at Allu.

That thought fired through me as I took Fowler's face in both hands, savoring the texture of his skin, the cut of his jaw, the flexing of his cheek muscles beneath my exploring fingers.

When I was a little girl I used to dream my parents were alive. There was no black eclipse. No evil royal chancellor who killed my parents and seized power. The sun still lived. It didn't hide behind the moon. It arrived every day. Crops grew. People were happy. Safe. No one was hungry. No one suffered in the dark. And I could see. When I dreamed of what I thought perfection could be, it was this.

But that wasn't perfection. Not even close. Because it wasn't real.

This was.

“We're fine, Mirelya,” I called out. “Good night.”

She grunted a response and the thunk of her cane faded across the outside room.

I lowered my head and kissed Fowler again, each kiss slower, longer, imprinting onto the darkness of my mind. His hands
roamed over me, slipping under my tunic to trail over my back, his callused palms skimming the line of my spine.

“You're trembling,” he murmured when I paused, lifting my head. “Are you still frightened?”

Today had been perhaps the closest I'd come to death. But that wasn't what he meant. He meant this. Us.

I ran my hand through his hair, marveling that it could feel like silk after all the abuse of this world. “The last thing I feel right now is fear.” In this moment, in his arms, there was only joy. An end to the loneliness I had felt for so many years.

“I feel it, too,” he admitted softly, his lips moving on mine as he spoke, so gentle that it broke something loose inside of me. “I'm afraid.”

“Why are you afraid?” In my mind, nothing ever scared him.

“Because you make me feel, Luna.” His hoarse voice was almost unrecognizable. “I haven't felt anything in a long time. That's the way I wanted it. I convinced myself it was enough. But you make me want more again. What happened today . . . what could still happen, it terrifies me.” I felt his tremble pass through him and bleed into me.

“Shhh.” I kissed him. “Not now. I don't want to speak of anything bad right now. Tomorrow is soon enough.”

“I just want to get you out of here.”

“Fowler, you aren't responsible for my life.” I needed him to know that. “People live and die. People you care about. You can't bear that burden.” I let that hang between us, hoping it sank in and he remembered it later when I was gone. I knew he'd loved
and lost before. I didn't want him to hurt again like that. Not because of me. “We can't stop loving and caring about others just because it hurts when we lose them.”

“I'm not losing you.” His hands held my face, his grip all at once tender and fierce.

His words tore through my chest. The boy who had started this journey with me wasn't the same one before me now. Somehow along the way he had changed from a hardened warrior who treated me only to terse words. He cared about me. He wanted to be with me now and not because Sivo had forced me on him.

“Close your eyes and kiss me,” I whispered, realizing that he wasn't the only one who had changed. I was different now, too. I lifted a hand to his face, stroked the hard line of his jaw, reveling in the light rasp of his unshaven cheek and the brush of his mouth on mine. “Pretend we're already there.”