Forest of Ruin

by Kelley Armstrong

  She'd also asked after the court Keeper and Seeker, Thea and Ellyn. They'd been out in the empire, sent by Emperor Tatsu to investigate reports of increased spirit activity, and had returned two nights ago, now resting their aged bones. That was all well and fine, but Ashyn had a hard time forgetting that they'd not lifted a finger earlier to help the girls who were supposed to be under their tutelage.

  While she'd been in conference with the emperor, Ronan had been home with his siblings. He'd returned as soon as he knew Jorn and Aidra were well. Or he'd attempted to. There'd been some confusion at the palace gates, over the boy in the mended breeches and filthy shoes and dusty hair, demanding to speak to Prince Tyrus. It seemed Ashyn wasn't the only one overlooked. At least people noticed her. Ronan had entered the city without even that, all eyes on the prince and the Keeper and the Seeker and the Kitsune boy and the Okamis.

  The guards at the gate had mocked him at first and then threatened him with the dungeons if he persisted in his charade. So Ronan had left. Then, when their interview with Emperor Tatsu ended, the four of them had gone to the gates, to see if anyone had spotted Ronan. That had been rather awkward.

  Ronan had been recovered, and they'd all dined together. Then Ronan had been summoned to speak to the emperor. Now, with the children asleep, Ashyn was in her quarters with Tova, pretending to read a book while anxiously awaiting news of Ronan's meeting.

  She'd finished the slim book--without processing a single word of it--when there came a rap at the door. A tentative rap, almost as if whoever was there hoped she'd not answer. It wasn't Ronan then.

  She considered not answering. Several of the court ladies had stopped by earlier, leaving notes that said they hoped to take tea with the Keeper and Seeker. Moria had snorted that their true hope had been that they'd find Tyrus and Gavril there, and could take tea with all of them and regale the other court ladies with gossip.

  Ashyn had no desire to entertain court ladies. And certainly no desire to suffer through a late-night visit with those who secretly hoped someone more interesting would stop by. So she ignored the knock. But when it came again, Tova moved to paw at her feet, whining and looking at her questioningly.

  "Yes, it is my duty to answer," she said. "But I have decided there is more to life than obedience. I avoided death at the hands of a mad dragon-cult leader. I will not perish of dishonor if I fail to answer a door."

  Tova growled.

  Ashyn sighed. "All right. I will look. But if it is a social call, I will pretend I didn't hear the knock and trust the goddess will not smite me for my impudence."

  As she approached, another knock came, equally light, then a voice, whispering "Ash?"

  Ashyn hurried over and opened the door to see Ronan standing there, wearing no cloak. No weapons either. He hadn't brought them into the palace grounds, of course--that was a crime. But she had hoped when he left his meeting with the emperor, he would be wearing the twin blades, rightfully, his caste returned to him.

  He had his arms crossed, as if against the chill night air, and the first words that came to her lips were, somewhat ridiculously, "Where's your cloak?"

  He shrugged, and when he turned to her, all her hopes for him plummeted like stones in her stomach.

  "Wh-what happened?" she said. "Surely the emperor--"

  "Walk with me, Ash."

  She shook her head and stepped back. "Come inside."

  "It isn't proper."

  "I don't care. You're cold and--"

  "I'm fine. Fetch your cloak and walk with me, Ash. Please."

  FIFTY-TWO

  "Have I done something wrong?" Ashyn asked as they circled the fish ponds for the second time.

  "Of course not."

  "I must have. I've somehow displeased you and now you're punishing me."

  "Why would you think--?"

  "You just came from a meeting that will change your life, for better or for worse, and from the look on your face, it is clearly not for better. I am obviously beside myself with worry, and I've asked you twice what happened and you haven't even given me the courtesy of a reply. I must conclude that you are angry with me, though I've no idea what I could have done wrong."

  "Nothing, Ash. You know that. I . . ." He looked at the pond. "Can we walk a little more?"

  "Why? Because you must see the fish a third time? The forest a second? The teahouse a fourth? If you wished to walk and clear your thoughts, then you ought not to have brought me along. I do not appreciate being tortured with silence."

  When he smiled, the sparks of anger ignited. "I'm glad you find my discomfort amusing."

  "No." He took her hands, ignoring her when she tried to shake him off. "I am simply thinking how the girl I met in Edgewood would not have said that to me. She'd have felt it, but she'd have held her tongue and done what she thought was right."

  "If you wish for that girl again--"

  "No." He tugged her closer. "I thought that girl was pretty and clever and sweet, but the girl you have become?" He bent until his lips were over hers. "I would never want you to be anything else." He kissed her, lightly, murmuring, "Ash, my Ash. My wonderful, perfect Ashyn."

  She let him kiss her. Then she stepped back, still holding his hands. "I'll not be distracted."

  An almost sad smile. "I know, as much as I wish you could be. I want to walk with you and talk with you and find secret corners and kiss you and tell you . . ." He looked away.

  She dropped his hands. "What happened with the emperor?"

  Silence passed long enough that she was about to grow angry again when he said, "I have been pardoned."

  She threw her arms around his neck, though in truth, neither had doubted that particular outcome. The law was clear--if an exiled convict survived a winter in the Forest of the Dead, he would be pardoned. Ronan's initial fear had been that he might be thought a party to the massacre. After all that had happened, there was no longer any such possibility. He had not only survived the winter but had been a loyal subject and aide since then.

  "I have been paid as well," he said. "Handsomely. I'll be given a house and enough money to set myself up in any business."

  "That . . ." She tried to say that, too, was wonderful. But the last part stopped the words in her throat. The last part suggested that, while he'd gotten what they'd expected, he had not gotten what he truly wanted.

  "Your family's caste will not be returned to you," she said.

  "A caste will. I am no longer without one, nor will my brother and sister have to grow up casteless, and that is what I truly wanted."

  No, what he'd dreamed of wasn't simply a caste, but the one that would allow him to carry two blades.

  "He will not allow you to be a warrior." She took a deep breath. "All right. We feared that. Giving caste to the casteless is difficult enough."

  Ronan said nothing, just took her hand and started walking.

  "So it was not enough that your family had once been warriors," she said. "Revoking that is permanent. No matter how long ago it was."

  "It was longer ago than I believed. When Tyrus told the emperor, he had his clerks look into their files. That could not have been easy. I did not even know my former clan. My father would claim it was Mujina, Tanuki, Okami, Bakenko, depending on what served his purpose. The clerks knew, though. The stripping of warrior caste is significant enough that it was easy to find, particularly since I am not empire-born."

  "So what was it?"

  "Tsuchigumo. Which my father never included in that list of possibilities, for obvious reasons."

  Tsuchigumo meant spider, like Jorojumo, the warlord who had betrayed Tyrus. Jorojumo, though, referred to web spinners. Tsuchigumo were ground spiders. Also known as "dirt spiders." And it was the name sometimes attributed to a group of disgraced warriors who had established themselves as a renegade clan.

  "So that truly is their clan name?" she said. "I thought it was merely a derogatory term. I'm sorry, that sounds rude."

  Ronan gave her a twist of a smi
le and leaned over. "To be honest, I expected as much. My family denied it, but I had a feeling it would be a little coincidental to be from a disgraced family that was not connected to a disgraced clan. It was also longer ago than I was told. At least seven generations."

  "And that did not help? That you are so far removed from the renegades? The blood so diluted? Or did that make it worse--the dilution of warrior blood?"

  He shrugged, and they walked a little farther.

  "All right," she said. "So is it merchant? Is that what you'll be?"

  He nodded.

  "I know you hoped for better, but I'm merchant caste."

  "You're a Seeker. You are above caste."

  "I still consider myself--"

  He kissed her nose. "I know. Thank you. I would be honored to be merchant caste. And I will be." He nodded sharply, leaning to kiss her lips now and take her hand. "I'll be a merchant and I'll be proud of it and I'll never regret . . ." He straightened. "I'll never wish for more."

  "What would you regret?" She caught a glimpse of his expression. "There's more, isn't there?"

  Ronan started to walk again, tugging her along, but she yanked him back, her hand wrapping tight around his.

  "What else was there?" she asked.

  When he didn't answer, she said, "Ronan? I will find out. I have only to ask Tyrus--"

  "I can be warrior caste."

  "What? No, there's more, isn't there? Some test?"

  He shook his head. "It's mine if I want it. I just . . ." He took a deep breath. "If I am to be raised to warrior caste, I must devote myself to the service of the emperor."

  "You must join the army," she said. "Perform your term of service there, as a lower-born warrior."

  He didn't answer.

  "Not a term of service," she said. "Permanently."

  "The emperor recognizes my past service, and he has decreed that I have earned my caste . . . if I continue that service. Specifically to Prince Tyrus. As part of his personal guard. In whatever capacity Tyrus sees fit."

  "All right," Ashyn said slowly. "I'm sure you'd like more autonomy in your future, but warriors do serve. And to serve Tyrus . . . ? Would that be such a bad thing?"

  "Not at all. He would naturally be my choice. I've been doing it already. Voluntarily and gladly. As for service in general?" He shrugged. "I understand the limitations that come with warrior caste for the lower-born, and I certainly did not expect to be excused from them."

  "Then why would you ever consider rejecting his offer and becoming a merchant?"

  "I'm seventeen summers of age, Ash. If I am to serve Tyrus, I cannot be a half-trained boy. I am expected to do as other young warriors would, when they came of age. I'm to serve a warlord for one round of seasons. Then I am to serve at an outpost for another. Possibly two if I require additional training." He looked over at her. "I need to leave for as many as three summers, Ash."

  "Leave your siblings? Surely the emperor understands that you did all of this for them, and he cannot expect--"

  "They would come with me. My first term would be with Goro Okami, who has agreed to take us all, to begin training my brother and to offer Jorn an apprenticeship when he is old enough."

  "You are being offered apprenticeship under Lord Okami, who apprenticed Tyrus himself. Goro Okami, whom you know and respect. He'll take you and your siblings, and he'll train your brother, too. And you plan to refuse? Are you mad, Ronan?"

  "So you see no problem with the arrangement?"

  "No, Ronan. Truly I do not."

  He let go of her hand and his voice changed, gruffer, harsher. "Then I suppose I have my answer, don't I? No need to stay."

  "What?"

  "If you do not care if I leave, then I have no reason to stay, do I?"

  "You--? Are you--? You're considering staying for me?"

  "And that, I believe, answers every question I had. I'm sorry if I misinterpreted your regard, my lady. I'll take my leave now and apologize."

  He turned stiffly and began to walk away. Ashyn ran after him and grabbed his arm.

  "You are telling me that you considered giving up warrior caste to stay with me?"

  "No, of course--" He stopped and gave his head an angry shake. "Yes, Ash. One word from you, and I would have stayed. I thought--I misinterpreted obviously. You enjoy my company. You are quite happy to dally with me, kiss me, but that hardly means there is any depth to your regard."

  "Depth--? You honestly doubt--?"

  He shook his head again, his tone softening. "I didn't mean it like that, Ash. We're friends. We're having fun being more than friends. It is a dalliance, and I ought not to have expected more."

  She stared at him. "You expected . . . ?"

  He opened his mouth. Then he studied her expression, and hope glimmered in his eyes. "You did not realize that. Of course. How could you? We couldn't speak of the future, under the circumstances. You wished me to get home to Jorn and Aidra first. Yes, Ash, I want more. I want you. For as long as I can have you, and I cannot imagine being without you. At a word from you, I will happily be a merchant. So long as I have you."

  Ashyn continued to stare at him, and as she did, he seemed increasingly pleased with himself. He'd professed his love and now she would profess hers back, and all would be well. It was simply a matter of letting her know how he felt. Which proved he did not understand the situation at all.

  "At a word from me . . ." she said slowly.

  "Yes."

  "If I tell you that I wish you to stay, you will."

  "Yes. That's all I need, Ash." He took her by the arms and held her there, his face above hers. "Just speak the word."

  "You wish me to tell you that I am committed to you. That I love you, and I will stay with you always, and that you do not need to fear turning down this opportunity, only to have me wander off after the first handsome young man who smiles my way."

  His own smile flickered, and he shifted his weight. "Not like that. I just want you to tell me that you feel the same, and that I have reason to stay."

  "Reason to give up your dream. To rob your family of a chance at warrior caste. Rob your brother of a chance to be a warrior. And it will be my fault."

  "It isn't like that."

  "It's exactly like that," she said, looking up at him. "You are asking me to promise that I will be worth the sacrifice. That we will be worth it. And how exactly do you think that would work out, Ronan? Every time I am angry with you, I'll remember what you did for me and feel ashamed of myself. Every time you are angry with me, you will remember what you gave up for me, and hate me for it. And if your siblings ever found out? That you'd sacrificed their futures for a girl you cannot even marry? You are asking if I love you. And you are asking me to prove it by forcing you to do something that, if I loved you, I would never want you to do. Blast you, Ronan! Blast you to--"

  She couldn't finish the oath. She wrenched from his grip and ran. She'd barely made it around the next building when she stopped. Tova whined and she laid her hand on his head.

  No, I won't do this. I won't run. Not this time. We're going to talk it out.

  As she marched back, she saw a figure approaching through the shadows.

  "Ronan, we--"

  The figure took another step and Ashyn made out the uniform of an imperial guard. She straightened quickly. "I'm fine," she said. "We're playing a game and--"

  The guard moved into the moonlight and she saw his face, his horribly twisted face. Then he sprang.

  FIFTY-THREE

  The shadow stalker attacked with claws and fangs, ripping through Ashyn's cloak as if it was the thinnest silk. She yanked apart the fastening and dodged clear of her cloak, leaving the creature still ripping into it, snarling like a rabid beast.

  The distraction lasted barely long enough for Ashyn to unsheath her dagger. Then the shadow stalker lunged at her. She stabbed it--in the throat, in the chest, in the head, wildly stabbing, all her frustration over Ronan fueling her rage. She heard a snarl and Tova vaul
ted over her to grab the thing by the neck. Both went down. The shadow stalker clawed and screeched, but Tova flipped it onto its stomach and pinned it there, letting it claw and bite the ground instead.

  I have to banish it.

  But that wasn't her power.

  It didn't matter. She recalled Moria's words.

  They are tormented spirits. Not innately angry or vengeful but forced to be so by sorcery. Many spirits, bound together in false anger.

  Meaning the trick was to calm them. Which Moria had done, despite the fact that calming was Ashyn's power.

  Beyond Edwyn's lies, he'd spoken truth, too. Their powers were not merely spiritual--the empire simply utilized them for that. Which meant that while Ashyn might be stronger at soothing, perhaps she could banish as well.

  She set about calming the spirits. Setting them free. Wishing them peace. She wove a little banishing power in there, as well, perhaps being firmer in her requests, not so much begging them to leave as telling them, in the most respectful manner. Combining the powers of the Seeker and the Keeper, soothing while sending the spirits on their way.

  It was like untangling a knot of spirits. She would hear one whisper its thanks or apologies and slip away. Then another. And another. Some needed less soothing and more banishing. But with each that left, the shadow stalker's struggles weakened until finally it lay still.

  Ashyn stared at the creature as Tova nudged it, making sure it was dead.

  There was a shadow stalker in the imperial court.

  How could that happen? While they took the form of smoke as spirits, they seemed limited in how far they could travel in that shape. Otherwise, they could have slipped into the emperor's chambers and killed him in his sleep and ended the war before it began.

  When they'd struck in the forest, they'd attacked men there. At Fairview, Alvar had captured the town, making it easy to unleash the creatures on the site. In human form, they could travel, as anyone could, but this warrior wore the uniform of an imperial guard. He'd been possessed here, in the palace grounds.

  And while you are considering how such a thing could happen, Ashyn, perhaps you ought to consider the unlikelihood that Alvar unleashed only one shadow stalker?