Twinned Shadow (The Shadow Series Book 1)

by Candice Bundy

  To say her sleep was fitful would be an understatement.

  Chapter 20

  Becka awoke with a start to the sound of her door squeaking open.

  “It’s Brent,” Quinn said, standing between her and the door.

  At least Quinn wasn’t on the bed next to her for Brent to witness and report back to Vott.

  Becka sat up, still wearing her clothes from the day before. At least those were still on and in place. After her dreams last night, Becka wouldn’t have been surprised to awake to find out she’d lost some clothing along the way.

  She almost forgot how anxious she was about the testing. Almost.

  Brent strode into the room and took a deep, suspicious whiff of the air. Where before Brent had been downright jovial with her, his demeanor had lost all sense of levity. His quick stride and taut frame were all business.

  “The testers are ready for you. I am to escort you.”

  “How many?” Becka cringed at the tremble evident in her voice. She wasn’t easily intimidated and hated appearing weak over something most fae considered a simple rite of passage.

  “Two. Shall we?” Brent motioned to the door.

  “Give me a moment, wolf,” Becka said, heading into her bathroom to visit the toilet. “I’m sure things will be more pleasant for everyone if I brush my teeth.”

  A few minutes later Becka emerged from the bathroom. “I’m ready,” she said with a nod to Brent.

  He ushered her out the door on what rightfully felt like a death march. How bad would the testers findings turn out to be?

  “You can remain here,” Brent said to Quinn, baring his teeth at the fae. “Or go home. Or, really, anywhere else but the House of Mirrors.”

  “My orders have not changed, so I am on this ride until I hear otherwise,” Quinn replied.

  “Fine, have it your way.”

  The guards fell in behind them as they marched down the hall to hear Becka’s fate.

  Memory had a funny way of etching the most painful memories with excruciating detail while leaving other lazy and relaxing moments comparatively fuzzy and indistinct.

  Becka’s memory of the testing chamber was as clear as the crystalline artifact she’d shattered earlier that day. As she ventured into the room, her heart lurched in her chest. This place had always felt uncomfortable from the first time she’d stepped foot inside over a decade earlier. She suspected her discomfort went beyond the failed expectations and the loss of her hopes and dreams.

  The space felt antiseptic. Cold. The room itself was spacious and lined with a ghostly limestone with so few inclusions it could be mistaken for glass. The limestone obscured the sheet-thin layer of iron encasing the room: the one element known to block all fae powers. The iron served to prevent outside interference in the testing and also contained all surfaced magic within these walls. There were windows along two walls and there a not so delicate lattice work of iron was exposed. Although it did not prevent the light from streaming in, the sun did little to bring warmth to the sterile space.

  Eyeing the limestone slab pedestal in the center of the room, she shivered.

  Located along the left wall was a small changing room with a private shower, which Becka entered grudgingly. Sets of white linen tanks and shorts hung at the ready, and Becka quickly changed, leaving her drapey black yoga clothes in a heap on a chair.

  Re-entering the coldness of the room, Becka tried to ignore the handful of people sitting beyond a viewing window along the right-hand wall, as she traversed to the central slab. Testings were traditionally attended by eager members of the guild, hopeful to learn of the talents of their youth. When Becka had first been brought at the age of fourteen she’d feared nothing, eager as any to learn of her abilities. The second time, having evidenced no typical fae magic, she’d dreaded the fate she felt was sure.

  This, her fourth time, filled her with a mix of anxiety and contempt. Either she’d endure the process again to learn there was no hex or curse. Or perhaps they’d uncover something and she’d have to manage the cure or living with a hex, depending on what treatment options were available. Regardless, she had no choice but to endure the testing and subsequent consequences.

  Standing at the head of the slab, Becka glanced to the viewing chamber, separated from the room by another lattice of iron and glass. It had the usual cast of characters talking amongst themselves. Maura. Vott. Her accusers, Aunt Astrid and Calder. Sigfrid and Ingrid. Quinn. Brent, for some reason. Alain too had joined the fray, which didn’t make much sense. What investment could he have in the outcome?

  She recognized the tester who’d proclaimed her magic-free at sixteen. Berak, who looked remarkably ageless from the last time she’d seen him. An older woman stood next to him; Becka assumed she was the other tester. The lady must have been here in attendance for the funerary rites, otherwise they’d never be able to have pulled this together so quickly. Houses rarely had more than one tester in residence, sometimes even having to borrow one from another guild. It was a rare gift, and so the guilds often afforded them great luxuries and accommodations.

  “Let us begin,” Berak announced.

  He and the other tester exited the viewing room dragging along heavy trunks which Becka remembered well. They would be filled with bottles of oils, unguents, paints, and who knows what other liquids and powders. No one helped them carry the trunks. To preserve the integrity of the testing, no one else was allowed in the testing chamber during an evaluation.

  The others took their seats in the viewing chamber. Becka could see them talking amongst themselves but couldn’t hear their words.

  “I am Saana, and I will be running the tests today along with Berak here, whom I understand you already know.” Saana and Berak shuffled across the room, their black robes displaying a form of unity. They hoisted their cases up on top of the central pedestal, moving as a coordinated team.

  Becka appreciated Saana’s kind and informal demeanor. It helped calm her nerves a fraction.

  An acrid smell hit the air as they opened the cases and laid out their wares.

  “And I am Berak, but I assume you remember that.” His attention was lost in the organizing and sorting of rows of jars. He didn’t wait for a reply. “We have been told you might have been cursed, so we will be focusing on hexes today. However, the Duchess Maura has insisted on a thorough investigation, and thus we will be doing a comprehensive check.” He raised his gaze to her. “We would not want to miss anything except the lovely weather this day. Are you in agreement?”

  Oh. Goody.

  “I need answers. Perhaps more than anyone else here. Please do whatever it takes.”

  Both Berak and Saana nodded in unison. His motion was clipped, hers rueful and accompanied by a half-smile of encouragement. Both appeared determined and focused.

  “You have my word, Becka. If there is something untoward going on, we will hunt out the cause.” Berak’s firm tone was reassuring, despite how much she dreaded the process.

  Becka inhaled slowly, held it for five seconds, and then slowly exhaled. Just like in yoga class.

  Berak motioned for her to back up a step, and Becka complied. From a bowl of brushes he plucked one with great flourish, snapping it in the air as if testing the mettle of the bristles. Appearing satisfied, he dipped one into a jar of bright, sparkly blue goo before approaching Becka.

  “Hold your arms out slightly...yes good. You might recall sometimes these sting or are...uncomfortable. Please only mention any significant issues.”

  As if could she have forgotten? Becka steeled her nerves and nodded. She remembered perfectly how some tests had burned, others itched, one had even bled the last time.

  “Then let’s begin,” Berak said. He painted the pigment across the exposed flesh of her upper arm, the cold liquid sending a chill down her back. It itched for a moment, but the sensation quickly passed. Her headache returned, no doubt due to the stress of the process.

  Saana approached her from the other side and p
ainted a thin, goldenrod unguent patch on the top of her other arm. This one burned for a few moments, and then the sensation also faded away.

  She inhaled, held it for a five count, and then exhaled again. Just like yoga. If only her head would stop aching.

  The painting continued, until her arms were rainbows of colors and textures interspersed with glittering sheens. Both Saana and Berak watched her face after each application. Becka watched them for what might be construed as meaningful reactions, and got none. She fought against flinching from each new stroke of the brushes against her skin.

  They moved on to her exposed shoulders and upper back. Those ached and stung, but again, each reaction faded after a few moments. The intensity of her headache neared migraine territory.

  The process hurt, but thankfully not as bad as the last time. Inhale. Exhale. Release anxiety. Be yoga.

  The pair moved on to her exposed legs, coating the skin with another rainbow of colors with speed and precision. Due to the repeated, if minor, assaults, her sensitivity had peaked. What was in these liquids that could be so caustic? With each new flick of the brushes, she jumped.

  Saana’s expression filled with compassion. Berak’s expression hardened with determination.

  Inhale. Exhale. Calm. Yoga.

  Becka watched them move through the inventories of their cases, mentally counting down a tally of potentially remaining applications. Based on the pounding of her head, even one more was too many--and it appeared they intended to apply every last cream, paint, and salve available in both their arsenals.

  Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale. Screw yoga.

  Becka’s head ached so badly that even the pads of her fingers and toes were sore.

  “This is some serious bullshit,” Becka uttered under her breath.

  “Pardon me, dear?” Saana asked, an eyebrow raised.

  “Oh, nothing,” Becka muttered.

  Finally the pair of testers set down their brushes and wiped off their hands. The entire process couldn’t have taken more than a dozen minutes. Becka let out a long sigh, the worst was over. Now they all watched for the paint to dry. Or bubble. Or bleed.

  Despite the full-tilt migraine throbbing through her head, the rest of the testing wasn’t as bad as she’d remembered. Sure, it still felt like her skin had been rubbed raw by steel wool, not paintbrushes, but the sensations were fading quickly.

  Then again, perhaps things hurt less just in comparison to her monster headache? Ow.

  “As we wait for reactions, please let us know if you experience anything out of the ordinary.” Saana moved in close, examining swatches of color. Berak stood a bit further away and strolled around her in a circular pattern.

  “I have an awful headache. Not sure if that counts?”

  “Are they common for you?” Berak asked.

  “Yes. Stress can bring them on.”

  Berak nodded, but his attention was focused on the swatches.

  “This is curious,” Saana said to Berak, pointing to a patch on Becka’s left shoulder. She picked up a wooden stick from her supplies and returned to gently prod the area. “Have you ever seen kaladi ointment do that?”

  Becka wanted to ask ‘do what?’ but held her tongue.

  “It looks like no kaladi I have ever used.” Berak harrumphed. “Perhaps it has turned?”

  Saana shook her head and barked out a laugh. “I am going to pretend you did not just insult my skills and training...oh my!” Saana rounded to Becka’s right foot. “This is the ishnay treatment, correct? Or did yours go bad as well?”

  “Do not be ridicu-” Berak replied, hurrying to get a closer look. “Yes, I can confirm that is the ishnay. It was a brilliant red when I applied the serum. But look at it now.” He looked up at Saana, and then met Becka’s gaze. “Remarkable.”

  Becka’s migraine abated ever so slightly. Somehow their rapt attention didn’t manage to lessen her anxiety. Being interesting to a tester didn’t bode well for her curse diagnosis.

  As Saana prodded the spot, Becka had no challenge picking out what the pair were looking at. Although she’d avoiding watching them apply the testing patchwork, Becka saw the patch touched by Saana’s stick paling in color, while it also appeared to dry and crack as she watched.

  Becka didn’t remember this from the last time. The last time they’d waited for an hour and some of the swatches had dried, but mostly she’d just been left with a sticky and stinky mess to wash off. Goodness knows she’d watched every moment of the process so carefully that time, mindful of the dire consequences should the testers find nothing.

  Which was the reality Becka had spent everyday living since. Except now there was something.

  “What kind of curse is it?” Becka asked. “Am I gonna die?”

  Saana shook her head, a wry smile flirting with her lips. She kept touching patches of color, calling out levels of fading at each location. “It’s no curse, child. If you had a curse, the related built-in reactions would fire off. This one”, she prodded her shoulder, “would smoke a foul odor. This one”, she prodded her left foot, “would sparkle a lovely and brilliant hue of yellow. Others would ooze and boil. This one right here,” she poked the back of Becka’s left hand, “would alternately flash red and black, assuming someone had cursed your reputation. A fun one, that curse. Quite impossible to reverse as well.”

  “But that patch is turning gray.”

  “Exactly! But you are not activating the tests,” she poked Becka’s right calf, “so you do not have any known curses. And yet, the tests do not remain inert, either.”

  Becka couldn’t deny the relief washing off her, although it was paired to her ever-fading headache. “Which means...what exactly?”

  “It means no curses. No hexes,” Berak replied. “All of the magic in these tests has been sapped out.”

  “Which could be argued is a form of activation,” Saana replied.

  “Deactivation?” Berak spoke the word, his expression incredulous.

  “Deactivation?” Becka echoed, repeating his statement. “What the heck does that mean?”

  “This is beyond my experience. And I am by far the eldest present.” Saana belly laughed. “But it is a lovely, mysterious discovery!”

  “All of the patches are fading to gray. They are changing at different rates, but they indicate the same outcome,” Berak said. “Drying out. Flaking off. I have never seen anything like it myself either.”

  “I, for one, am quite entertained.” Saana winked at her. “There is not much new I run across at my age. Please tell us, how long have you noticed the effect you have on magic?”

  My effect? A sinking sensation hit her in the solar plexus. “I don’t have an effect. I mean, I haven’t noticed anything.”

  Saana and Berak shared a look. Becka had the sense they’d crossed over into some new unnamed territory.

  “When was the last time you handled something magical?” Saana asked.

  Becka remembered the crystalline shards of the Unbreakable scattering out across the floor, but she knew Saana wasn’t asking about that artifact. Or how Astrid’s flower petal illusion had failed on contact with her. Or the funerary shroud being damaged by her passing. And they wouldn’t even know about the flower petal she’d found in Tesse’s hair.

  “Oh, it’s been years. Since my expulsion I’ve avoided magic. I figured since it wasn’t in my life that I might as well let it go completely.”

  Saana’s face lit up with recognition, and she turned to Berak. “Of course. So many humans in the city have something, even if it is just an anti-aging talisman. We’ve come to expect everyone incorporates magic into their lives like the fae do.” She looked to Becka. “But not you. And without exposure, you would never have connected the effect.” She turned to Berak. “She has been living in a magic-free bubble.”

  “The change would have been undetectable until the past couple of days. Remarkable.” Berak turned to face those in the viewing chamber. “Becka is...repellent.”<
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  The clenching in her stomach wouldn’t stop. “You’re not much of a catch yourself,” Becka snapped back.

  Berak chucked and wagged a finger at her. “I meant to say, magically repellent.”

  Becka frowned. “Wait, what?” She moved from her pose and a fine dusting of testing detritus wafted into the air.

  “I do not, precisely, concur with my esteemed colleague.” Saana continued to study Becka’s skin. “Or rather, I would amend his findings just a smidge.”

  “I am the resident tester for House Rowan,” he replied. “The authority of my findings is accepted here.”

  “I mentored you, Berak. Get off your high horse.” Saana ran her prodding stick along Becka’s shoulder, causing even more dust to puff off into the air. The smoke danced sinuously in the streaming sunlight. “The magic has not been repelled. It has been consumed. No, that’s not quite the right word either… It has been nullified.”

  Chapter 21

  “Nullified?” he replied, as if testing the word on his tongue. “Nullified,” he said more slowly. He then looked to Saana, then Becka and her skin, and then back to Saana. “I concur with your findings, but we will need to determine the proper terminology.”

  “Then it is decided,” Saana replied, her voice filling the room.

  The testers nodded to each other, and then as one, hurried about recapping their magical paints, cleaning their brushes, and packing up their trunks of supplies. They both appeared so pleased with the testing results. Saana was even bouncing about as she moved, humming a song Becka didn’t recognize.

  “I don’t get it.” Bewildered, Becka turned to the viewing alcove, where Maura and Vott were chatting privately, their heads close together. Calder’s face was so crimson, she wondered if he was having an allergic reaction. They couldn’t have heard all of the details from the alcove, but the viewing must have been informative enough to draw some general conclusions. “You’re saying I’m so ungifted that I break magic when I touch it?”

  Dust floated in a nimbus around her, as more and more of the testing patches broke into ash. At least the shower would go quicker than the last time. Her headache had lessened, almost as if it was turning to ash as well.