As the Shadow Rises: Book Two of The Age of Darkness

by Katy Rose Pool

  He glanced over at Anton, who sat across from him, trailing one hand lazily through the water. He’d gotten a little too much sun during their journey, and the pinked skin of his face and neck was now freckling.

  “You could help, you know,” Jude suggested, leaning back as he dragged the paddles through the water in one smooth stroke.

  Anton propped his chin on one hand. “I prefer to watch.”

  Jude’s face heated under Anton’s considering gaze. His paddle slapped against the surface of the water as he missed the rhythm of the next stroke.

  “Oh!” Anton said, swiveling to look at the side of the canal. “There it is. The one with pink trees in front.”

  Jude angled the boat toward the dock that jutted out from the bank of the canal. This appeared to be where the richest citizens of Endarrion lived, just outside the Floating Gardens that occupied the city’s center. The only way to access this merchant’s estate was by boat, and only approved visitors could dock in front of the estate.

  Anton and Jude were not approved visitors, a fact that the guard manning the dock seemed eager to inform them.

  “I know we’re not expected,” Anton repeated. “But I promise you, if Lord Cassian knew we were here, he’d want you to let us in.”

  “Lord Cassian is out of town on business,” the guard replied gruffly.

  “I meant his son,” Anton said. “Evander Cassian. Look, just go ask him.”

  The guard seemed affronted. “I’m not going to bother my lord’s son over some ruffians in his backyard.”

  “Sir—what’s your name?” Anton asked sweetly.

  “Favian,” the guard replied, looking at Anton with suspicion.

  “Favian,” Anton repeated, pronouncing each syllable laconically. “You look like a very smart man.”

  Jude snorted, and then quickly covered it with a cough. The guard glared at him.

  “And I can tell you’re good at your job,” Anton went on. “I know Evander well, he’s a friend of mine, and I know he and his father would only hire the most capable guards—”

  “If you want to see him,” the guard cut in, “you can leave a card like everyone else. If you’re as good a friend as you say, I’m sure he’ll get back to you.”

  Anton glanced at Jude. Jude knew what he was thinking—if they left and waited for Evander to get in touch, it might be too late. If the guard even passed along the card at all. But it didn’t seem like they had another choice.

  “Come on, Anton,” Jude said, dipping his paddle back into the water. “Let’s just do what he says.”

  Anton seemed ready to give up as the guard returned to his station. Then he paused, his gaze lighting on something behind the guard. He slinked over to the guard’s table, picking up a jar of what looked like silver beads and shaking it.

  “You play canbarra?” Anton asked the guard.

  The guard snatched the jar back, returning it to the table.

  “I’ve only won the Endarrion canbarra tournament five times and counting.”

  Anton lit up. “All right, then how about this? Play one hand with me. If I win, you go tell Evander we’re here. If you win, we’ll leave you alone with no further argument. What do you say?”

  The guard eyed him. Jude resisted the urge to bury his face in his hands.

  “One hand,” Anton said again. “If you’re as good a player as you say, then it’ll be a breeze, right?”

  Twenty minutes later, Jude and Anton waited on the dock while the guard summoned a servant to inform Evander of their presence.

  “I can’t believe that worked,” Jude said, shaking his head. “Again.”

  “Gambling always pays off, Jude,” Anton said sagely.

  “Should I be grateful you didn’t wager anything of mine this time?”

  Anton smiled. “Progress.”

  The guard shuffled back to them, looking embarrassed. A servant followed at his heels.

  “Well?” Anton said, clearly already gloating.

  “Lord Evander requests you be brought up immediately,” the servant said. “Come with me.”

  Anton shot Jude a triumphant look as he all but skipped past the guard. Biting back a laugh, Jude followed.

  The servant led them through the grounds of the estate, winding up a tiled path that led into the grand entrance of the main house. A sparkling glass chandelier lit with incandescent light cast rainbows on the walls and floor. Two sweeping ivory staircases wound up to the next floor. Jude stared dumbly at the beauty and opulence. Anton appeared similarly entranced.

  “Right this way,” the servant said, leading them out into a sunlit garden.

  At first Jude was too distracted by the lush beauty of the garden to register the presence of the dark-haired boy, no older than he, lying redolently on a cushioned lounge beneath a tree that wept pale lavender blossoms. A chilled pitcher of honey-colored liquid sat on the filigreed table beside him, a crystal glass held delicately in the boy’s hand.

  “Anton!” the boy cried, leaping to his feet and throwing his arms around Anton, honey liquid sloshing out of his glass. Jude stiffened to see such an effusive display of affection—they were not something the Paladin engaged in, even between the closest of friends.

  “It’s good to see you, Evander,” Anton replied as the boy dragged him over to the lounge, leaving Jude standing by himself.

  “What a lovely and utterly unexpected surprise,” Evander gushed. “Come, we have so much to catch up on.”

  “First,” Anton said, “I’d like to introduce you to my friend Jude.”

  Evander’s gaze slid over to Jude, and his hand flew to his mouth. “Oh dear, how rude of me! I thought you were his servant or something.”

  Technically, that was true—in that the Order of the Last Light were the holy servants of the Prophets. But he sensed that Evander didn’t mean it that way.

  “Not exactly,” Anton said.

  “Back when I knew you at Thalassa, you wouldn’t have been able to afford a servant,” Evander went on with a laugh. “But I thought perhaps you’d run off with someone rich and gotten married. You know, my father and I were in Pallas Athos not two weeks ago—by the way, did you hear about those ghastly attacks last month? Apparently the Temple of Pallas almost burned down!”

  Jude looked up sharply, but Evander was already prattling on.

  “Of course it was perfectly safe at Thalassa, where we always stay, only the owner told us you’d up and disappeared! I was devastated, and hoped that maybe you would write one day. What a shock it is to see you here! You must tell me everything that’s happened since we last met, spare no detail, my dear, I want to hear every last thing.”

  Jude had never heard someone say so many words in such a short amount of time.

  “It’s a long story,” Anton replied.

  Evander smiled, familiar and fond. “Not getting into too much trouble there, were you?”

  “Just the right amount,” Anton returned with a flash of teeth.

  His tone caught Jude off guard. It was one he hadn’t heard since he and Anton had first met that night at the Hidden Spring. It bothered Jude to hear that tone again now. And directed at this . . . Evander.

  Evander clapped his hands suddenly, and a servant appeared beside him. “Bring us two more glasses, and another pitcher.” He turned back to Anton. “You must tell me all about it, and what it is that brings you to Endarrion.”

  Anton glanced at Jude. They hadn’t actually discussed what they would be telling Evander, although it seemed obvious to Jude that it wouldn’t be the truth.

  “Well,” Anton said, “after hearing so much about it from you, I couldn’t help but want to see it for myself.”

  Evander looked pleased by the answer. “Isn’t it everything? The most beautiful city in the world. Endarra would be thrilled with such a lovely namesake.”

  “Endarra didn’t believe in the beauty of artifice and material things,” Jude said. “Her belief was that all things held beauty in them, from the
humblest worker bee to the most majestic mountain.”

  The moment the words left his lips, he immediately wished for them back.

  Anton and Evander both stared at him. Then Evander clapped his hands gleefully. “Well, isn’t that a lovely sentiment. The humblest worker bee. How utterly brilliant! I love it.”

  The servant arrived with their drinks, pouring the honey-colored liquid into tall, crystal glasses.

  “Magnolia wine,” Evander told them. “A delicacy here.”

  Anton tipped the liquid into his mouth. Knowing it would be impolite to refuse, Jude took a single sip. The wine melted on his tongue like morning dew on a flower petal.

  “Divine, isn’t it?” Evander asked. “I swear my mother weaned me on it. It’s too bad she’s not here to see you, Anton. She did always adore you so. Although it’s probably for the best that Father isn’t here.” Evander glanced at Jude conspiratorially. “He thought it beneath me to dally with the serving staff, but I just couldn’t help myself, I mean—could you?”

  Jude did not have the slightest idea how to answer that. He felt his left eye twitch.

  Evander draped his chin over Anton’s shoulder. “I was heartbroken when I learned you’d left Thalassa. I thought I’d never see you again, and yet here you’ve gone and shown up on my doorstep like a Moon Festival cake! You must stay here with me. I insist. The house is so terribly empty while Mother and Father are away.”

  Anton raised his eyebrows at Jude, and Evander followed his gaze, now turning his large blue eyes upon Jude, as well. Any attempt to protest, it seemed, would be futile. And Jude could not deny that staying here with Evander was probably safer than at the temple. The Witnesses weren’t likely to come looking for them here. And if they did, Evander seemed to have a whole staff of guards.

  “We can stay,” Jude said, flicking a purple blossom off his shoulder.

  Evander leapt to his feet, throwing his arms around Jude. Jude’s body went into a panic, and he only barely stopped himself from throwing Evander off him and pinning him to the ground.

  Over Evander’s shoulder, he saw Anton stifle a laugh.

  “Let’s go get you settled, and then I’ll have the cooks start dinner,” Evander said, pulling away. He chattered on as he led them inside, through more opulent hallways with marble floors and gilded ceilings.

  “This is going to be easy,” Anton said, his breath warm on Jude’s ear. “We’ll have dinner, butter Evander up, and get more information about this collector.”

  Jude pulled away. “Just don’t get distracted.”

  Anton narrowed his eyes. “You agreed to come here, remember?”

  “Yes, to get the Pinnacle Blade,” Jude hissed. “Not to—”

  “Anton?” Evander called from the bottom steps of a grand staircase. He had evidently noticed that neither of them were paying attention to him.

  “Coming,” Anton called. He shot Jude a glare and then hurried ahead, smiling brightly at Evander.

  Jude watched their backs as they climbed, unsure if he was mad at Anton or himself. They had gotten along so well during their journey from Kerameikos, but here in Endarrion, Jude remembered how different he and Anton were, and how Anton knew exactly how to get under Jude’s skin without even trying.

  Dinner at a house like Evander’s was an elaborate affair, with cooks bringing out decadent dish after decadent dish—game hens roasted in honey and pomegranate, candied squash, chilled cucumber soup drizzled with mint. Evander carried the majority of the conversation, which surprised Jude not at all, but made it difficult to find opportunities to find out more about the collector.

  But between dinner and dessert, an opportunity presented itself.

  “That’s a nice vase,” Anton said idly, gesturing at a glass-blown vase in the corner of the room.

  “Oh, that was a gift,” Evander replied, sipping his magnolia wine. “One of my father’s clients gave it to us. Lady Bellrose.”

  “A client?” Anton asked. “What does she do?”

  Evander looked thoughtful. “You know, I’m not entirely sure. She collects all sorts of curios.”

  Jude went still, and Anton crushed a wide grin into a look of mild curiosity.

  “I’ve never even met her,” Evander went on. “She’s quite evasive. But she always throws the most extravagant celebrations. They’re the talk of the city for weeks. I heard she just arrived back in town a few days ago after chasing down some new item for her collection.”

  This was it. The Pinnacle Blade. Jude cleared his throat. “What kind of item?”

  “I think a sword . . . ?” Evander trailed off. “I can’t really remember to be honest, but her parties are such fun!”

  Jude opened his mouth to speak again but a sharp stab of pain in his foot silenced him. Anton had stomped on his foot, and it could not have been an accident. He bit off a hiss of pain and glared, gripping Anton’s knee underneath the table in a fruitless demand to know what he was up to.

  Anton betrayed nothing, gently plucking Jude’s hand off and smiling up at Evander.

  “I miss the parties we used to have at Thalassa,” he said. “We met at their midwinter ball, do you remember?”

  Evander sighed, dreamy, which launched them into a detailed remembrance of the first time Evander had set eyes on Anton. It took them all the way to the dessert course, a cloud of whipped egg whites and sugar drowning in a bowl of rich cream, topped with a delicate sugar-lace dome.

  “And you know, it wasn’t like I’d never had a beautiful boy, or girl for that matter, make eyes at me across the room but there was just something about him!” Evander cooed to Jude. “Even serving drinks in that ridiculous uniform, he was the most luminous thing in the room.”

  Jude very dearly wanted to pour the dessert over Evander’s head, if it would stop him talking.

  “It’s been so long since I was at a party like that,” Anton said after Evander was done recounting the precise way the light had struck Anton’s hair. “The last time Thalassa had a party you weren’t there, and I had to suffer through the company of the other guests.”

  Evander clapped his hands together. “I’ve just had a wonderful idea. Lady Bellrose is throwing one of her parties tomorrow night. Why don’t you two come along with me as my guests?”

  Jude stabbed the top of the sugar dome with the dainty little dessert spoon and very pointedly did not look at Anton, certain that seeing his barely concealed smirk would shred what was left of his self-control.

  “Oh, I don’t know,” Anton said. “The parties at Thalassa are one thing, but I don’t think I belong at a party that elegant.”

  “Nonsense!” Evander cried. “You belong anywhere I belong, Anton. You two absolutely must accompany me. I won’t take no for an answer!”

  “I suppose,” Anton said with a sigh. “If you insist.”

  When Jude looked down, his dessert spoon was bent in half.

  20

  EPHYRA

  AS THE TEMPLE KEPT SINKING, EPHYRA FEARED THEY MIGHT FALL STRAIGHT through the earth.

  “What do we do?” Illya shouted at Shara, clinging to one of the temple walls.

  Shara looked terrified.

  Ephyra almost wanted to laugh. She had trusted in Shara to help her, not realizing that the famed thief was just a girl who’d bitten off more than she could chew. A stolen identity who failed to live up to her namesake. She was no one, not really, and she wasn’t going to save them.

  The temple lurched, throwing Ephyra to the floor as the walls started to buckle and cave.

  They were going to die. Ephyra was going to die, and that meant Beru would die, too. And that would be it. There would be no one else to remember her.

  “Get up,” Illya’s voice barked. His face appeared above hers. “Get up.”

  He sounded pissed. She didn’t get up.

  “If you stay here, then I have to stay here, too, and I am not dying like this.”

  “Feel free to die however you want,” Ephyra replied, but she dr
agged herself to her feet, stumbling into him.

  “Shara!” Hadiza’s voice cried from above.

  All three of them jerked their heads up. A rope dangled from the top of the temple ceiling, where the roof opened to the sky. Shara was the first to register what was happening, sprinting toward the rope. She grabbed hold of it, and the others, above, pulled her up.

  “We have to go together,” Illya said as they reached the rope. He was right. The cuffs meant that he would get dragged along with her, his weight pulling her down.

  They each grabbed hold of the rope, facing each other.

  “Pull us up!” Ephyra cried as rocks pelted toward them and the floor began to crumble beneath them. She let out a scream as the floor collapsed and they were left dangling. She felt her hands drag and slip down the length by a few inches.

  She hissed, tightening her grip.

  “Wrap your legs around me,” Illya instructed. He had his arm wrapped around the rope, looping it through the crook of his elbow to maintain his grip as they were slowly pulled upward.

  She gave him an indignant look.

  He rolled his eyes. “Do you want to fall? I can help support your weight.”

  Feeling like she was about to do something incredibly stupid, Ephyra tentatively circled her legs around his waist, glaring at him as they were pulled higher and higher. This close, she could see the dark sweep of his eyelashes against his pale skin, and smell some spiced scent under the layers of dust and sand.

  The temple ceiling groaned as more debris plummeted toward them. The rope swayed, and Ephyra squeezed her eyes shut.

  “It’s all right,” Illya murmured soothingly, which was so unexpected it made hysterical laughter bubble in her chest.

  “Don’t comfort me.”

  “I can threaten you, if you prefer,” Illya replied, and this time she couldn’t help but let her laugh spill out.

  She opened her eyes to find him smiling with genuine mirth.

  They dangled, entangled and breathless with terrified laughter, for a few more moments before Numir and Hadiza dragged them over the edge. They grabbed Ephyra first, hauling her up. She collapsed beside them, panting, as they yanked Illya up. Parthenia pulled Ephyra to her feet.