Twinned Shadow (The Shadow Series Book 1)

by Candice Bundy

  Vott’s expression was grim. “I do not know, but no portents came to me.”

  “Why are your chimes silent now?” Becka asked. “Aren’t they always chiming, or talking to you, however they do?”

  Vott raised a brow. “Yes, they usually are.” He walked over and ran his fingers across them, evoking a short-lived melodious trill, which grated on her aching nerves. “I admit I have never seen them cease speaking, and yet I detect nothing amiss. Yet I recognize no message within this moment’s stillness.”

  Quinn, who until now had observed their interaction with keen interest, spoke up. “To our knowledge,” no doubt meaning the Enforcers investigation, “there were no portents nor presciences concerning Tesse nor the House of Mirrors in the preceding days. But the investigation is still open.”

  “Do you have any idea what happened that night?” she asked Quinn. “Or who’s responsible?”

  “I apologize, Becka, I cannot divulge the details of the open investigation,” Quinn replied. “I will share with you that this tragedy is our top priority and we are taking all necessary precautions, including overseeing your safety. But there has been no indication that there will be any further threats to you or anyone else in the House of Mirrors.”

  Becka had worked side by side with a few of the campus police doing volunteer work to drum up enthusiasm for University interest groups. She’d listened to their stories and she didn’t get the impression that cops, fae or human, took assignments on a whim or for having nothing better to do. More likely, she guessed, the Enforcers had more than just a suspicion she was in danger or they’d never waste the fae power shadowing her.

  What else about the killer was Quinn withholding? The hair at the back of her neck and on her arms rose at the thought.

  “Wait...could the killer still be here?” she asked.

  “We have to assume that’s a possibility,” Quinn replied.

  The killer could have been out there in the courtyard with the other fae. They could have seen her arrive. Becka shivered.

  At that moment the door to Vott’s study flew open and Becka came face to face with her Aunt Astrid.

  “Good evening, Becka.” Astrid’s melodious voice was almost as dainty as her diminutive, for a fae-touched, form. “I had not expected you would become a pawn in the great game of life, and yet here we are.” She swept into the room, practically forcing Becka out of the way.

  “What is the meaning of this interruption?” Vott asked.

  “All will become clear in time, Duke Vott,” Astrid replied, holding up a hand to forestall Vott’s ire.

  Becka shot a confused look to Quinn, whose expression remained neutral. Astrid was the head trainer for the Illusionist Guild, overseeing the training of all students. Despite her size, she commanded the space around her. Becka had never quite understood whether others feared or respected Astrid. Perhaps it was a little of both?

  “Aunt Astrid, I’m afraid you have me at a loss,” Becka replied.

  Astrid circled Becka like a lion would their prey, clad in an elegant dove-gray sheath dress with delicate couture ruching along the neckline. Her cascades of delicate braids were nested three levels deep, braids made of braids. “I could care less whether you attend the feast. Why did you return to House Rowan?”

  “I returned at Vott’s request, as per tradition. Actually, it was more of a rude demand.”

  “Tradition is a convenient reason, to be sure.” Astrid replied. “But I am convinced there’s more to this story.”

  The hair at the back of Becka’s neck raised, her skin tingled. She’d known Astrid and the woman was not known for flights of fancy. What was Becka missing?

  “What did you mean when you said I’m a pawn?” Becka asked.

  Astrid arched a brow and stepped in close to her, stopping an arms-length away. “I might entertain the possibility that you are being played,” she side-eyed Quinn, “but even his reputation is not this dark. The Enforcers are not known for indulging in politics, either. I do remember you are a clever girl. So the alternative is you know exactly what you are doing, although for the life of me I can not figure out why you would disgrace your sister’s memory.”

  Becka clenched her jaw. She didn’t deserve Astrid’s attitude. “I may be clever, but I have no idea what you’re getting at. Can you start from the beginning and take me step by step along the winding road to your point?”

  Astrid’s cheeks inflamed, followed by a few quick blinks. For a moment, Becka thought she’d angered Astrid, then a slow smile built across her face. “Tesse was perhaps the most promising illusionist in four generations.”

  Becka felt a combination of fierce pride for Tesse and jealousy for being excluded from her sister’s life. Becka had lost her firstborn birthright and the opportunity to learn aside her sister due to her ungifted status. Although thinking ill of Tesse caused guilt to sit like a rock in her stomach. What cause did she have to be jealous of her now dead twin?

  “I’d heard she was talented, but I didn’t know she was that good.”

  Astrid nodded. “Tesse would never have bragged. But I made sure everyone understood the range and depth of her abilities.”

  “Everyone...fae,” Becka replied.

  Astrid gave a quick nod of the head. “Regardless, I watched you as you entered the manor. I saw the truth with my own eyes.”

  What. The. Shit? Becka took a long, deep breath and exhaled slowly, anger and confusion warring for dominance within her mind. Had grief driven her aunt into irrational and delusional behavior? Or was it something else?

  “What did you see happen?” Becka asked.

  “Yes, Lady Astrid, keep your words plain,” Vott replied.

  Curiosity and confusion warred on Astrid’s features. Her eyes narrowed, as if she could ferret out Becka’s level of honesty by mere sight alone. Heck, maybe she could?

  “The warp and weave of the manor’s shrouding rippled and began to unravel as you arrived. I am unclear how you, an ungifted, managed such a feat. I just now finished repairing it.”

  Becka held up her hands, trying and failing to comprehend Astrid’s accusation. What in the world was she talking about? “As you are well aware, such talent is beyond me. I don’t even have fae friends who could manage some sort of disruption spell, nor would I want to.”

  “It was no disruption spell.” Astrid shook her mane of braids like a frustrated lion. “Although I must admit I did not recognize the form, which is quite peculiar.”

  “So why don’t you explain to me how I do it?”

  “Perhaps,” Quinn interrupted, “it was someone or something else just timing their magic to Becka’s arrival?”

  Astrid regarded them both, back and forth. No doubt if she’d been staring down a charging unicorn, she’d have won from conviction alone.

  “I do not understand why you continue to deny your involvement. I just can not understand how anyone would want to damage the flawless memory of your twin.”

  “I loved Tesse.” Becka fought back an unexpected welling of tears. “And I would never impugn her memory.”

  “You have lived as an outcast these past years. Perhaps you have lost all respect for your family and fae tradition during this absence?”

  Becka wiped an unbidden tear from her eyes and took a long, cleansing breath before responding.

  “I did nothing. But, I hope you figure out who damaged the shroud. I’d like to give them a piece of my mind too.”

  Astrid sighed, frustration plain on her features. “Dear, Becka, when you decide to unburden yourself, I will hear your confession. In the meantime, I will be watching you.”

  Aunt Astrid swept out of the room without leave to Vott, determination clear in every stomp of her feet. Quinn followed after her, peeked out into the hall, and then closed the door.

  “Your aunt is an impressive force of nature,” Vott said. “You would be wise to accord her more respect.”

  “Why? I didn’t do anything to the shroud and I don’t a
ppreciate being attacked for no good reason,” Becka snipped back at him. “Heck, I don’t appreciate being attacked for any reason.”

  Vott frowned at her. Was he wondering if Becka had somehow wronged Rowan? Let him.

  “I am confident the truth will out in time,” Vott said. “If you are without blame, be assured Astrid will apologize. Now, I will see to getting Quinn dismissed or at least replaced with someone more reputable. In the meantime, I have arranged for you to stay within your old quarters. Also, an appropriate wardrobe to be made available to you. Take your time freshening up and then join us for the remembrance vigil over dinner.”

  Vott turned to Becka as if to embrace her, and then caught himself before he displayed an unsuitable level of affection. He retracted his hand, clenched it, and then moved his hands to his sides.

  Becka shifted her weight back onto her heels, reeling from yet another emotional blow. Was he serious? “Wouldn’t my old quarters have gone to Tesse when I was cast out?”

  “Well yes, they did.”

  “So, you want me to sleep in her room?” she asked. “Two days after she died?”

  His face contorted in confusion, but the red flaring his cheeks spoke to his anger. “My apologies, I would have thought you would find it comforting. She did not die there, after all. Would you prefer something more suited to your present station?”

  How had this man, her father, gone from considerate one moment to emotionally unaware the next? She’d forgotten the sting of refined fae sensibilities.

  Becka couldn't wait to get back home to the city.

  “I’ll take Tesse’s room,” she replied. He raised a brow, no doubt expecting an apology, but Becka was in no such mood. “Also, Quinn stays.”

  Vott threw up his hands. “Why in the territories would you want him around? His superior at House Oak, Elder Torvald, is a long-time friend of mine. I can make things happen.”

  “So far, Quinn is the only one who hasn’t been awful to me. Besides, it turns out my life may be in danger. So he stays.” Quinn gave her a quick nod. “For now.” At that Quinn smiled.

  “You can’t be serious?” Vott replied. Becka couldn’t tell if Vott’s injured expression was real or fake, and frankly she no longer cared.

  “Serious as taxes. You,” she pointed at Vott, “used guilt to manipulate me back here, and now I’m stuck for the duration. Astrid is watching me for, gods knows what magic-babble next? Quinn is shadowing me so I don’t get killed. And there might also be a killer watching my every move, lying in wait for the perfect opportunity to maul me. I’m trapped on all fronts! I’ll be lucky if I can take a piss without you all chatting to figure out what I meant by it!” she yelled.

  “Well dear,” Vott replied, “none of us would be conversing with Tesse’s killer.”

  “ARGH!” Becka screamed, and then swept out of the room, pausing only long enough to pick up her bags. She sensed Quinn close on her heels.

  Chapter 7

  Stopping dead in her tracks and rounding on him, Becka pressed her finger to his chest. “Just so we’re clear, I don’t trust you and I’m pissed you played me. Now, explain to me why Vott doesn’t trust your reputation.”

  To his credit, Quinn didn’t hesitate to explain. “Years ago, while working on an unrelated investigation over a missing charmed necklace at House Alder, I stumbled upon a diary detailing plans to undermine the nearby city government. When I confronted the owner of the book, Elder Bjork, she turned herself in.”

  “Alder is Vott’s house, which is known for being staunchly fae loyalist yet pro peace treaty with the humans.”

  “Yes, and although he was living here at House Rowan at the time, I have no doubt he heard about it in detail. I transported Elder Bjork to holding myself. But before she could be formally interviewed, she took her own life.”

  Becka frowned. “It’s almost like she didn’t want to be questioned.”

  “I agree. However she was aging and frail. House Alder believed her diary was the ramblings of an old lady and that she’d taken her own life out of fear of human mistreatment.”

  “It’s a reasonable concern.”

  “My conscience is clear.”

  “And Elder Bjork is dead. No wonder Vott dislikes you.”

  Instead of being angry, Quinn surprised her with his half-smile. “You know you are awfully direct. Almost like you have been spending a lot of time with humans.”

  And just like that the remaining vestiges of her anxiety transformed into irritation. She leaned closer, and said in a whisper, “You would know. Enforcers work side-by-side with human officers, right?”

  He nodded. “It’s an uneasy truce, but some of them are not so bad. I do understand the challenges of going back and forth between human and fae worlds.”

  How dare he? “But I don’t live in both worlds like you. I’m an outcast, and this is all just an elaborate theatre performance. No one will even remember I was here a few days after I leave.”

  Her breath caught, and Becka realized how close she stood to him. Her arm was pressed up against his chest, their noses inches apart.

  She cleared her throat and stepped back. She marched off in the direction of her room, Quinn following. “I suppose Vott will see to arranging a room for you.”

  “I am shadowing you. I cannot do that from across the hall.”

  Becka barked out a laugh. “You’re serious?”

  He raised his brow. “I am.”

  Right, he’d be shadowing her for the next few days until she returned home to the city. As attractive and charming as he’d been, she didn’t relish the idea of anyone shadowing her.

  “I don’t have to agree to this.”

  “No, Becka, you do not. But imagine you are attacked at some point during your stay at House Rowan. Do you want me having to break down the door before I can defend you?”

  She did not need that visual, but it got his point across while also rekindling her anxiety. From what Vott had described, Tesse had been mauled within moments after Alain had left her side. Perhaps it had been Alain himself, her twin’s fiancé, who did the deed? She shivered at the thought.

  “Fine, but I reserve my right to change my mind. And I'm not sharing the bed.”

  “Noted. I am confident, even without seeing the room, that there are plenty of couches, divans, and sofas available.”

  “You are impossible.”

  “Wait till you get to know me.”

  “Are we going in, or are you planning to sleep in the hall?”

  Quinn stood behind Becka as she stood at the threshold to her sister’s room. Which used to be her room. Which was now, for the next few days, her room again.

  Her mind reeled.

  She put her hand on the doorknob, the familiar feeling of the silver handle in her hand at once a source of comfort and profound sadness. “Give me a moment, I’m getting my bearings. There are only so many shocks a person can take in one day.”

  “It is up to you, but for what it is worth, you are starting to draw a crowd.”

  Becka’s head throbbed from the day’s stress so she studiously avoided meeting anyone’s gaze on the way to her quarters. Her thoughts were occupied with processing not only the grisly circumstances of her sister’s death, but also the possibility she or others in her family could be targets. The last thing she’d wanted was to get drawn into some tedious conversation before she’d even had a chance to put down her bags.

  She glanced to the left; there was her youngest brother, Gunnar, conversing with someone she didn’t quite recall. He looked so different, but the combination of his lanky and lean frame with his sharp nose yet rounded cheeks was unmistakable to her despite all the years. Glancing to the right, she saw her Aunt Astrid sashaying down the hall away from them, appearing to take in the family portraits hung at convenient intervals.

  Of course, no one was staring at her or even appearing to notice her presence. Everyone was quite caught up with their own conversations. Sure. Whatever.

&n
bsp; Everything here was familiar and foreign at the same time. She’d grown up with these people, and yet no longer shared their universe. It was like watching a historical documentary, except she was trapped inside. Like one of those picturesque snow-globes, except she could no longer breathe the air.

  Becka’s eyes lingered on Astrid, and after a moment her aunt looked up and their gazes met. Astrid’s direct stare drove Becka to open the door and escape from the onlookers.

  The smell of roses hit her like a wall, saturating her nostrils. The heady fragrance bordered on a soapy quality, such was its intensity.

  Quinn closed the door behind them and turned on the lights.

  “Did someone fill the room with bouquets?” she whispered to herself.

  He started to search the room, which was no doubt standard enforcer procedure. He checked behind curtains, couches, and furniture.

  Enforcer, my ass. More like a player or charlatan, based on Vott’s reaction to him. So then why was she admiring the view of his broad shoulders and taut backside as he moved so gracefully and with determined purpose?

  Against the far wall, which was lined with floor to ceiling windows, ran a row of large ceramic pots hosting an army of robust miniature roses. The colors ranged from yellows, peaches, oranges, and pinks, to crimsons.

  Becka crossed the room to take in the display, marveling at the space her twin had dedicated to the effort.

  “The arrangement is like a sunset in miniature form,” Becka said. “I’m amazed she took the time from her training to learn gardening. Miniature roses can be quite difficult to get to thrive, especially indoors.”

  “She never mentioned her efforts?” Quinn asked. He picked up a book on gardening from an end table, holding it up for Becka to read the title: The Esscentual Secrets to Miniature Roses.

  Becka smiled a wan smile and shook her head over the clever play on words. “Not this. We talked family drama. Her fiancé. Frustrations over the time she spent in training. Wait a second, how do you know my sister and I talked?”