Reign of Shadows (5 page)

“It's a burn. What were you thinking? Cooking and handling yourself near a fire.”

I sucked in a breath and held it for a moment, my chest full with outrage over his presumption. “Who are you to chastise me—”

“Someone with eyes to see that you shouldn't—”

Tears stung the backs of my otherwise useless eyes. I felt them there, but thankfully they did not fall. I did not have to endure the humiliation of weeping in front of this boy who saw fit to judge what I should or should not do.

I reacted without thought. My hand snatched the knife that I used to cut the bread. My fingers circled the hilt unerringly, fitting it perfectly within my grip. It hissed as I swung it, stopping the serrated blade before his throat.

“I can see just fine without seeing. Fine enough to cook. To cut anything. Don't doubt that I can handle myself. Wasn't it me who brought you here and saved you?”

The utter stillness of the room told me neither Perla nor Sivo moved. They watched—whether for fear that I would indeed cut his throat or fear that he would turn the tables on me and retaliate, I wasn't sure, but I liked to think that Sivo was proud. He had trained me well.

Of course they could simply be shocked that Fowler knew of my blindness.

I heard the rustle of fabric as Fowler lifted his arm. The point of the blade gave way under the slightest pressure—but only because I permitted it. If I wanted him dead, he would be.

“Whether my death was so certain or not, point made. I'll not mistake you for helpless again,” he murmured.

I stepped back, lowering my arm, but kept the knife in my grip. For now, I felt better holding it. I took a calming breath. It didn't matter what he thought of me. He was leaving.

With that reminder, I ignored the pulsing burn on my hand and dished up dinner, setting the bowls in front of each of us. Steam wafted up to my face.

“Where are you from?” Sivo asked as I was in the process of lifting my spoon to my mouth. I hesitated slightly before bringing the warm broth the rest of the way to my lips.

“I was born in Relhok City. I gather from your accents that you're from there as well.”

Perla tensed. “We left before the eclipse,” she lied, distancing us from the truth of what had happened inside the royal quarters, from the slaughter of my mother and her attendants.

“Fortunate for you. After the eclipse everything . . .” His voice faded, words unnecessary.

We didn't need to be told how bad things were in the capital during the eclipse. Sivo and Perla remembered and they'd shared those details with me. Knowledge was power, and a girl without sight needed as much power as she could seize.

“Did you ever see the high chancellor?” Sivo tensed beside me as he posed the question, his spoon clinking inside his bowl.

“You mean the king?”

His spoon clattered into the bowl. “He's no king of mine. Assassinating the old king and declaring yourself king doesn't make you the one true king.” Emotion bled into Sivo's guttural voice. I patted his hand under the table, cautioning him not to
reveal so much emotion. Why should a family such as ours, isolated and eking out a meager survival in a cursed forest, care who ruled over Relhok?

“I left the city over a year ago, but last I heard he was working on an alliance with Lagonia. Those were the rumors at least.”

“Lagonia?” Sivo scoffed at the reference to Relhok's neighbor. “They're enemies of Relhok. They block all routes to the sea.”

“Nothing like a mutual foe to turn enemies to allies.”

“What mutual foe?” Perla asked.

“Dark dwellers,” I whispered, understanding. They were everyone's enemy. The rivalry between Relhok and Lagonia paled beside the threat of the dark dwellers. I felt Fowler's attention on me then, his stare crawling over me. He had heard my whisper.

“Yes,” he replied. “The king will do anything to secure a trade route. The country is starving and we need the sea for fishing and trade to other countries.”

Sivo rose then, taking his bowl with him. He stomped from the room. I knew he couldn't stomach to hear the high chancellor discussed in such a manner—as a king that might be doing something good for Relhok. As far as he was concerned, the high chancellor deserved a sword at his throat for what he did to my parents. I was inclined to agree, except I didn't see what could be done about it now. We were here, far away from any chance of evening the score.

“Did I say something wrong?” Fowler asked in a voice that reflected nothing.

“He's not an admirer of your king,” Perla sneered.

“He's not my king,” Fowler replied in that even voice. “He's mad. Everyone knows that, but he rules with an iron fist and the people of Relhok are still alive because of him. That's enough for most.”

“But not you. You left,” I said.

“It's enough for most,” he repeated.

Silence stretched and I wondered at his words and what was enough for him. Allu?

Perla rose and dished up more soup. “I'll bring a bowl for the girl and check on the boy.” She hesitated before moving off. I knew she wondered at the wisdom of leaving us alone together. She didn't want me to grow attached to him. It was probably the memory of me holding that knife to his throat that satisfied her.

I listened to Perla's departing tread before shaking my head and returning to the task of cleaning up the dishes, trying my best to ignore him.

“Afraid to be left alone with me? I have my clothes on this time.”

“Should your naked form frighten me? I can't see you, remember? So I needn't be repulsed.”

He laughed at that, and I stopped, quite undone by the low, smoky sound. It rippled over my skin like the stroke of fine ribbon. His laughter stopped abruptly, almost as though it startled him as much as me. When he spoke again, his voice held no hint of that laughter. “Rest easy, I've not sent many females running away screaming before.”

From what I'd felt of him, he was well formed, but I couldn't resist needling him. He was too confident and I wanted nothing more than to knock him from his perch.

“Oh. You're in the frequent habit of prancing about naked, are you?”

“Not frequent, no.”

But I wasn't the first. I waited to see if he would elaborate on that, tucking a stray strand of hair behind my ear with suddenly fidgety hands. I wanted to hear more about him. I wanted him to talk about his life. I wanted to know about where he came from, what he'd seen, the people, including the girls who had or had not seen him naked.

I gulped a breath, pressing the back of one hand to my flushed cheek.

I wanted more of the strange flutterings inside me when his deep voice addressed me as though we weren't strangers. I liked that familiarity. I wanted more of it. I shook my head, harder this time. I needed to remember he would be leaving tomorrow, and I did not intend to be left reeling in the sudden quiet of his absence.

His voice broke through the unquiet of my mind. “Why are you so angry?”

“I'm not.”

“You are. Is it because I figured out you're blind?”

If it were only that. I hefted the tub of dirty water.

He rose, his chair scraping back on the stone. The air stirred as he stretched a hand toward me. “Let me help—”

I stepped back quickly. “I can do this. I've been doing it for years.” And I'd be doing it after he left.

Turning, I walked across the room, presenting him with my back, unwilling to reveal to him the confusing tumult of emotions twisting inside me.

Fear. Want. An ache for something more that went bone deep. I wanted. I needed. I had felt a fraction of this yearning when I sat beside my window, hugging my knees to my chest as I breathed in the outside world, thinking that maybe someday I would find a life beyond the tower. Only a fraction though. Because before him my need was amorphous. It had no distraction. No face. Unlike now. With a grunt, I hauled the wooden bucket up to the stone edge of the window. These feelings had become more intense, more pressing since he arrived here, and when he left, he would not be taking them with him. The feelings would stay long after he departed. They would be with me always.

I
PUSHED THROUGH
the other prisoners to stare out between the bars, gripping the cold steel until my knuckles went white. None dared stop me. Perhaps they read something of the desperation in my face—or they were too weak, too broken from years of imprisonment to care.

The outer gate closed shut with a vibrating clang, and I spotted her in the fading purple of night. She passed over the drawbridge for the first time in her life. A deep throb pumped through my chest as I realized it would be the last time.

I had envisioned her crossing it with me. That had been the
plan. Eventually. We'd talked of it countless times. But now it was too late.

Today she would die.

Sitting in the back of the rattling cart, her knees tucked close to her chest, she looked so small. So defenseless. Her head turned, scanning the battlements, and I knew the truth deep in my bones. She searched for me and I wasn't there. Did she think I betrayed her? That was salt in the wound.

Torches flickered, illuminating the numerous faces, all pale smudges with coal-dark eyes looking down at her. Her mother was there among the spectators. Her little brother, too. As stoic and silent as everyone else. As helpless as I was to save her.

I wasn't there. I was stuck in here, failing her.

The wagon rolled to a stop and the guards hopped down. They reached up and helped her descend. With cold efficiency, they led her to the waiting pole. Even across the distance, I could see the rusty stains of blood soaked into the wood. The deep gashes and rips embedded in thick oak. Those details told the story of what was to come.

I flexed my hands around the bars, palms slick with sweat.

She didn't resist as they backed her to the pole. The solid length hit her square along the spine. I wanted her to fight, to run, even though if she broke free there was nowhere to go. An intense gray fog hugged low to the ground. The flat expanse of land that surrounded the walls of the keep was long eradicated of trees. In the far distance, the land gave way to shrubs and then trees so thick and dense it was impossible to determine what
lurked within. She peered in that direction, gazing into the fleeting glow of midlight.

With every passing moment my throat felt like it was tightening from an invisible noose. The dark would soon return to swallow everything.

The guards made quick work of the rope, pinning her to the pole tightly, tying off the ends into knots she could never hope to loosen. They stepped back and returned to the wagon.

The creak of wheels and the jingle of harnesses filled the air as they circled back around, the horses' hooves kicking up earth. The drawbridge lowered with a rattle of chains, hitting the ground with a thud I felt vibrate through my bones. The wagon hastened into the shelter of the keep, rattling over the wooden drawbridge.

The gate descended with a clang, closing behind them. Everything inside me wilted as the drawbridge cranked back up and slid home with a jarring clank, shutting her out. Snuffing out that tiny flame of hope inside me.

Silence fell, an eerie quiet after all the noise. She looked around, her head the only thing mobile. The immense, stone-walled keep gazed back at her solemnly. I shivered, feeling the cold in the cell.

Watching her, I knew how she felt. I knew the loneliness. The king's voice rang out, shattering the silence.

My gaze found his robed shape standing atop the battlements. Hatred welled up inside me at the sight of his face. “May this humble token serve as a testament to our deference, to our
limitless respect and awe. . . .”

The rest of his words faded into a droning buzz. I knew them by heart—had heard them all my life.

She scanned the firelit faces, searching for one, her lips moving, mouthing what I knew was my name in a soundless plea. It was there, wordlessly humming between us. She clung to the feeble hope that I would come. That I would stop all this from happening.

That I would keep my promise.

I shook the bars with impotent fury.

The king finished and silence fell again. The gray deepened to purply black and the fog melted, giving way for night again. I scanned the distant tree line. Dark shadows swelled from the thicket, their black, growing claws stretching across the barren land toward her.

My chest hurt. Each breath an agony. She held herself so still. Her gaze trained on the faces watching her. Family. People she'd known all her life. No one to help her.

I'm here. I'm with you.
I willed the words to her as though she could hear them.

She couldn't believe that I didn't care. She had to know. I had not abandoned her.

At the first inhuman cry, her body came alive, struggling against the ropes. Just as I'd seen countless others do. I had always marveled at that, wondered why they bothered fighting when it was so clear they couldn't escape. Now I knew. The will to live was a powerful thing.

I screamed her name, shouting it between the bars until my voice grew hoarse.

They were coming and still she fought, choking on terror. Even though she knew there was no going back inside the keep, she battled for life. The keening cries increased in volume and overlapped. She struggled, her hair flying wildly.

Finally their horrible cries stopped. And so did she. She stilled.

I watched, my throat raw, my eyes wide and aching as I searched the darkness, fear bubbling like acid inside me. I knew what it meant when they quieted.

My heart thudded a deep, rushing beat in my ears. I sagged against the wall, utterly broken, my hands numb on the bars as my eyes strained against the relentless dark—darting, seeking, searching for their shapes in the impenetrable black where they hovered.

They were there. A single whisper escaped me.

“Bethan.”

The only answer I heard was her scream.

I woke with a ragged gasp, hands gripping the sheets like they were the bars of the prison cell from all those years ago.

It was the same dream. Except it had been a while since I last suffered it.

I inhaled, steadying my heart rate and forcing the images away. Lacing hands behind my head, I stared into the dark. It had been a long time since I felt a bed beneath me. I had spent
many a night staring into the dark, sleeping in far less comfortable accommodations, storing up my strength.

I should have been enjoying a dreamless sleep. This was the most secure I'd been in a long time. I should have been taking advantage of that. Instead I was trapped in the old nightmare. I scrubbed a hand over my face as if I could rid myself of all thoughts of Bethan and that day.

After a few moments I succeeded in rerouting my thoughts. They strayed in the most obvious direction. A pair of bottomless dark eyes that saw nothing and yet saw everything floated across my mind. Luna.

It was almost as though her lack of sight made her stronger. Someone like her should be dead, but she wasn't. She was thriving. Maybe a world of dark was best suited for the blind. I expelled a heavy breath.

She'd made me laugh.

I didn't know the last time I had laughed. For a moment my chest had loosened. I felt lighter until I remembered that laughter didn't belong in this world.

A knock at the door brought me upright. “Yes?”

The door creaked open. Perla stuck her head in my room, wisps of steel-gray hair floating around her. “It's the boy.”

I slipped from the bed, pausing to slide my feet into my boots, knowing nowhere was ever safe—including this idyllic tower. I needed to be ready to run at a moment's notice.

I followed Perla into the bedchamber. Madoc whimpered in the middle of the bed, his face flushed and sweaty. Dagne sat on
the edge, wiping his brow with a cloth.

Sivo stood in the corner, looking bleary-eyed. Luna was beside him, her arms crossed in front of her defensively as though she was trying to shield herself from me.

“What's happening?” I asked.

Perla nodded to the boy on the bed. “His fever has spiked. I fear it won't break. We're losing him.”

Dagne choked on a sob, burying her face against where his arm rested limply on the bed, her fair hair a pale banner of gold against the bedding.

I searched Perla's face, wondering why she was telling me this. If he was dying, there was nothing I could do about it.

“That's too bad,” I heard myself saying.

If they were expecting sympathy, they weren't going to get it. People died every day. This world was more about dying than living. The goal was that it just not be me lying fever-ridden in a bed—or becoming food for dwellers. Some days even that goal felt insignificant. Fighting for survival had become reflex and not something I even considered anymore.

“You sound real shaken over that,” Luna's voice chimed in. My gaze shot to her. For a girl without sight, she pulled off the scathing glare rather well.

“Are you sorry for him then?” I challenged. “You just met him.”

“I am sorry for him, yes. Any loss of life is something to grieve.”

Dagne lifted her face, her cheeks wet from tears. “Would you
stop it? He's not dead yet. Stop talking about him like he is.”

“I'm sorry.” Luna shook her head, looking truly morose.

I snorted. Such a soft heart. She cared too much over one boy dying. Didn't she know yet? People you loved, the ones you cared about the most, they all died eventually. No one was spared. When you lost them, everything you had, all of your heart, was lost, too. It crippled you. Left you an empty shell, functioning on instinct alone.

“You're horrible,” she whispered, so softly that I perhaps wasn't supposed to hear her.

My mouth kicked up at one corner. “You haven't any idea what I think or feel. You live in your private sanctum. You don't know what the world out there is truly like.”

Even if I wanted to care about someone again, there was nothing left in the shell of me. My heart might beat, but that part of me was gone.

Luna's gaze rested in my general direction. “I've been out there—”

“Have you ever been a stone's throw from this tower?” At her silence, I knew she had not. “When things get messy you dive back into your hole, right? You're fortunate. You haven't had a taste of what it's really like.”

Color splashed her cheeks. “So if I did . . . I'd be as heartless as you?”

“Yes.” He paused on a breath. “If wise. Because the heartless survive.”

She inhaled a deep, rattling breath. I tried not to notice. Not this. Not anything about her. Still, my gaze assessed. As slim as she was, she had curves.

My gaze flicked to Sivo, noting the rigid set to his big shoulders. My assessment was not overlooked. Protective fury hummed from him. I understood the silent threat. He'd kill to protect her. I nodded once to him, letting him know he wouldn't have to worry about me.

“You say that as though proud,” she accused. “How can you think that's right? That being
heartless
is right?”

“Nothing about anything is right anymore.”

She shook her head. My words hung between us as I committed her to memory. Luna was all emotion, her face like a glimmer of daybreak amid perpetual night. She gazed at me, her eyes somehow fixed on me, her expression full of reproach.

Silence hung in the room, the faint sniffling from Dagne the only sound.

Sivo closed a hand over her shoulder and squeezed gently. She offered him a weak smile.

“There's a chance for the boy yet,” Perla offered with a heavy breath. “Nisan weed.”

“Nisan weed?” I frowned, vaguely familiar with the herb. When I was a boy, my nurse had taken me with her to hunt for herbs at midlight. Nisan weed had been a prize find. I could still see her holding the little flower up to the feeble light, stroking its petals as though it were the greatest jewel. “Large
red and yellow flowers with the dark centers?”

“Yes.” Perla nodded. “It works quickly, which is what he needs with a fever raging such as this.”

“I saw it on the way here,” I replied before I could consider what admitting such a thing signified.

“You did?” Sivo asked. “Not near here. I've picked it clean over the years.”

“Perhaps farther than you're accustomed to traveling. It was about an hour's walk from here.”

“You must go and bring it back,” Dagne pleaded, her fingers desperately clenching her brother's limp hand.

I shook my head and faced Sivo. “I'm leaving at midlight—”

“Please!” Dagne cried, her face deepening to an even brighter red as new tears poured down her cheeks. “Do this one thing before you go.”

“You know the way?” Sivo pressed me.

“I can create a map directing you to where I spotted—”

“You said it's an hour's walk. Midlight won't last that long. You could find the herb faster. You know directly where to go.”

I sighed, unable to argue with the truth of that. He would waste precious time searching.

I looked around the room. A sick boy. An old woman. A scared, weeping Dagne. And Luna, a blind girl even if she was the most capable of them all. I choked out a dry, humorless laugh. If they lost Sivo, how well would they fare? And for how much longer?

Luna pressed her lips into a tight, mutinous line. “What's so
amusing? Our request for help? Or that we're even attempting to save his life?”

She didn't know me. Not at all. I could say yes.

Her chin lifted a notch. It was uncanny, as though she read my thoughts and was challenging me to go against my avowal to leave this place . . . my determination to live a selfish existence.

“I'll go.”