Shadowborn (Light & Shadow, Book 1) (2 page)

“
So why does she not go to
court?” I asked Roine, and she only pursed her lips and shook her
head. “Is it the secret about the Lady?” I asked, thinking myself
very clever. The servants laughed behind their hands sometimes at
the Lady, and they talked amongst themselves, about something in
her past—but no one would tell me.

“
Don’t gossip,” Roine
reprimanded. Her tone was harsh; Roine hated gossip. Other servants
were fascinated by the Lady and the Duke, but Roine did not share
their interest, nor did she approve of anyone who loved
scandal.

After that, I was careful to hide my
interest in the Lady’s past, and the Duke’s doings. I was
fascinated by him—not seeking scandal, as Roine would think, but
only observing, daring myself to see him and yet not be seen. The
Duke did not care in the slightest about me, but each time he came
to visit, I melted away into the background, and I later
congratulated myself on my success at evading him. I saw no further
than the next test, the next opportunity to—I thought—outwit this
man and thus keep myself safe.

I had no thought that the Duke might have
greater worries than the whereabouts of a serving girl, for I had
not the slightest idea of what went on in the world beyond the
castle walls. I knew that Heddred had been at war once, and knew
that there had been a great battle near the castle itself, that the
Duke had fought in very bravely; the guardsmen sang songs about it
sometimes, very bloody indeed, and I was never allowed to sing them
myself. I knew that some talked still of the war, and some of the
guardsmen muttered darkly about Ismiri soldiers, but that was the
way of things. Guardsmen muttered. It was to be expected.

But that was nothing to me. The life of the
castle, now, was the only life I knew: I ran errands and helped
Roine with her chores, made a nuisance of myself stealing pies from
the kitchen, and learned to sneak as well as a growing child can.
Years passed in the sheltered conclave of the mountains, and I grew
from a dirty, disheveled child to an only marginally better-behaved
young woman. Being wholly unmarriageable by birth, having no
standing with any family in the village, and being no proper part
of the Lady’s retinue, I was given leave to wear britches, to run
around as carefree as any young lad, and to get into scrapes with
the servant boys.

I could laugh, now, to think on such a
simple life: no intrigue beyond distracting the cook, no lies
beyond covering up the grass stains on my tunic. But it was all I
knew; we were isolated from the machinations of the Court, from
news of the world. I lived my life as a peasant indeed, seeing no
further than the next meal, or the next terrifying visit from the
Duke. He was an organized man, was the Duke, arriving every three
months, to the day, to inspect his lands, his keep, and his
niece.

And then, late in my thirteenth year, the
Duke came for an unexpected visit. That day, as every when Roine
told me that the Duke would be arriving, I felt my stomach turn
over. The Duke was coming to the Castle. He would arrive in a great
clatter in the courtyard, and his retinue would follow after. First
would come his hand-picked retainers: any fellow lords and his
priest, his two guards—and the Shadow. Then would come the
soldiers, horses lathered from the climb up the winding steps to
the Castle.

The Duke would not dismount until he was
surrounded by his men, and while he waited, his eyes would sweep
from one side of the courtyard to the other, as if even here he was
looking to scent out traitors to the crown, and every person there
would look away to avoid meeting his eyes. No one was to be in the
courtyard when the Duke appeared, save the Lady and her daughter,
the hostlers, and the guards—and no one in their right mind
disobeyed the Duke.

But that day, I wondered foolishly if was so
good at being unseen that I could stand in the courtyard and be
invisible to the man. At the mere thought of it, I was gripped with
excitement, such a mix of daring and fear that I felt my stomach
twist as if I would be ill, but all the day long I could not keep
from wondering: could I, little sneak that I was, creep into the
courtyard where the Duke was waiting on his horse, and he would not
see me?

As much as I could, I loitered in the
courtyard. I took messages from the soldiers, and I brought them
their lunch. I dawdled in the shadows by the steps up to the
parapet, I snuck behind the barrels at the walls. I made a bet with
myself, and with Tomas, the baker’s boy, that I could creep from
the stairs at the back of the courtyard, to the barrels at the
front without any of the Duke’s retinue ever seeing me.

In the end, that was easy enough. I thought
I had timed my errands with care, but I was in the courtyard when
the shout went up, and the soldiers pounded across the yard to lift
the portcullis and let the Duke in. Like a frightened rabbit, I
shot into the corner of the courtyard and huddled in the shadow of
the stair. It was too soon, I was not ready; suddenly I was afraid
that I had made a terrible mistake.

The Duke’s big warhorse was the first into
the yard, sweat glistening on its night-black flanks, and the Duke
thundered almost to the great doors before he pulled up sharply. As
I saw his head turn, I shrank further back, hoping against hope
that the stone could swallow me whole and keep me hidden.

I was saved only by the great double doors
swinging open. Forgetting my fear for a moment, I craned forward to
look, for I knew the Lady would appear, and raised in the servants
quarters as I had been, I had never seen her close to me before.
Dinner without the Duke and his retinue was a quiet affair, and I
would never have been chosen to serve.

Now I had the opportunity to watch her. I
thought that she was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen; she
was dressed in blue like the sky, with her shining pale hair piled
below a tall headdress. She curtsied to the Duke so gracefully that
I could scarcely believe she was human. She moved like a whisper,
she moved like a dream, and trailing in her wake came a girl with
hair the color of darkest night.

That was the first time I ever saw Miriel up
close. She was my age—indeed, born a month to the day before me,
sheltered from the blizzards by the thick walls of the castle—but
there was a world of difference between the two of us. As soon as I
had been weaned, I had been sent back to Roine’s care, in a drafty
tower far from Miriel’s cozy nursery. Never would the Lady have
allowed her precious daughter, born of a noble father, to be raised
with a servant’s child. The Lady might have been born a merchant
girl, but she was proud of her noble marriage, and she considered
herself and her daughter far above the companionship of servants.
Miriel had been raised in almost total seclusion, given the company
only of ladies’ maids, while I had run wild around the castle since
I was old enough to walk.

Now my skin was browned with grime and sun,
and Miriel’s skin was the same perfect ivory as her mother’s. My
hair had darkened from the white-blonde of childhood to the
half-brown, half-blonde nothing color of the hill people, and
Miriel’s hair was a tumble of gleaming curls the color of ebony. My
eyes were the same grey as the storm clouds that crept slowly over
us in the winter, weighted down with their bellies full of snow,
and Miriel’s eyes—I could see even from this distance—were the same
color as sapphires, a deep blue so beautiful I ached to stare into
them. And where Miriel wore a version of her mother’s gown, a fine
blue silk with slashing on the sleeves, I wore boy’s clothes, a
shirt that was too large and pants held up with a frayed belt.

I disliked the girl on sight.

But there was no time to think: the moment
had come to move: the Duke’s retinue was assembled, and the men
were dismounting, handing their horses off to the hostlers who
moved amongst them. I felt a terror like I had never felt before in
my life, and although I wanted nothing more than to curl into the
corner and hope desperately that they would go away, I felt myself
began to creep along the stone wall. I moved slowly, a shadow
amongst the flickering shadows of the evening, careful of where I
moved and where I stopped, and in what seemed both like an eternity
and only a half a moment, I was crouched behind the barrels at the
front of the courtyard.

That was where I erred. The bet had been too
easy, I decided. Why, I could sneak anywhere. The guards said I
moved like a little cat. Tomas would be impressed that I had made
good on the dare, but I knew I could do better: I could steal the
dagger from the soldier who had just walked over to stand at the
edge of the formation.

Breathless, heart pounding, I eased forward
in a half crouch, my leg muscles screaming. Closer I crept, and
closer. The Lady and the Duke were speaking formalities, but I had
a little time still. Closer…

I stretched out my fingers for the
dagger—

And nearly screamed with the speed with
which the soldier’s hand clamped down on mine. When he twisted my
wrist and brought me down in front of him, I did scream. My arm was
on fire. I looked up into his black eyes and saw that I had chosen
for my target not a soldier, not one of the rank and file of the
Duke’s guard, but instead Temar, the Duke’s fabled assassin
himself.

There was a moment of horrified silence, and
then I heard myself whimper in pain. Worse, I heard the clank of
the Duke’s boots on the cobblestones and in my terror, I felt tears
seep out of my eyes. Still, everyone was silent. Everyone was
horrified.

Everyone save Miriel, who let out a
giggle—it could only have been her who laughed so beautifully. I
tossed my head up to look at her, angrier than I could remember
having been in my short life, and my chin was seized by the Duke
himself, my face wrenched about so I could look him in the face. It
was an honor I could have done without.

“
What,” he said, in a voice
as chill as the winter air, “do you think you are
doing?”

“
She was trying to steal my
dagger,” the assassin offered dryly.

The Duke’s hand closed around my throat.
“Did you think to kill me, whores-get?” His fingers tightened, and
stars burst across my vision. I tried to gasp a denial, but could
not make out the words.

It was Temar who saved me. He laughed. “This
child? An assassin?” No one else could have laughed at the Duke and
lived, but Temar was different. He was the Duke’s Shadow, and I
would learn later that the Duke trusted Temar like he trusted no
one else, even his own family.

Temar was still laughing. “No, my Lord, this
is just a servant. But I did not see her until she was behind the
barrels there, and I am certain she was not there when I came in.
She moves very quietly.” His voice dropped, so that the soldier
next to him could not have heard it. Even I, pinioned between the
two of them, could barely make out the words. “I would say she
moves like a shadow. Wouldn’t you, my Lord?”

They stared at each other for a moment, then
the Duke looked down at me. He took his time to stare at me, and
the moment stretched. I could not move, frozen by the pain in my
shoulder and the Duke’s grip on my throat. I stared at him like a
snared beast.

His smile, when it broke across his face,
was the single coldest thing I had ever seen in my life. I shivered
convulsively.

“
I would say that,” the
Duke agreed. “Like a shadow.”

Within an hour, I was standing in the Lady’s
private receiving room, awed into sullen silence. I had been soaped
and scrubbed and rinsed, dunked under the water until I thought I
might drown. Anna had been the one to yank the tangles out of my
wet hair with a comb, and braid it so tightly that I could scarcely
move my face. As a last effort to make me seem more like a
respectable servant and less like a grimy orphan, I had been
dressed in an old gown found in a linen closet, free of stains but
smelling musty.

“
I don’t like this,” the
Lady complained. “Why her?”

“
Why me what?” I asked, my
head coming up. She narrowed her eyes at me.

“
You will speak when spoken
to,” she said coldly. I dropped my eyes back to the floor, biting
my lip against a retort, and so I did not see her face as she
said,

“
She’s practically a street
urchin. She has no manners—she is no fit company for a Lord’s
daughter. Why not a noble girl?”

I could hear the Duke’s impatience. “I will
not explain this again.”

“
But—“ He must have
gestured to her, for she fell silent. I peeked out of the corner of
my vision, and saw Temar watching me closely. I would have been
afraid, but he gave a half-smile, a conspirator’s smile, and I felt
oddly cheered.

My cheer disappeared abruptly when the Duke
said, “Look at me, girl.”

My head jerked up. I stared at him. “What’s
your name?”

“
Catwin.”

“
Who’re your
parents?”

“
Dunno,” I said sullenly.
The Duke’s eyes flashed.

“
You will speak properly
when spoken to by a noble.” He sat back and waited until I
muttered, “I don’t know,” and continued to wait until I added,
“Sir.”

“
That’s better.” He
considered. “Why do you not know?”

“
Roine took me in when I
was a baby. Sir.” It seemed an unimportant piece of information to
me, but the Duke’s eyebrows shot up.

“
Roine? The
sorceress?”

“
She’s a healer,” the Lady
interjected. “I’d have no unnatural dealings in my
household.”