Shadows and Shade Box Set

by Amanda Cashure

  Seth chuckles and points at me. “You just made things worse.”

  “Asanta’s one of Seth’s exes, sort of.”

  “We didn’t even go there,” Seth corrects.

  “What I meant was that things could be worse. We’re up against the odds, but we are winning.” Even if the margins are too close to bother measuring.

  Thane doesn’t sound convinced, but he rolls back so Pax can take control.

  “There are reports of more weapons going missing on the routes too. But the thefts are happening near the Crimson Castle, and I almost feel Lithael himself is behind it – or some other force we have no understanding of,” Seth says.

  “What kind of weapons? That could be an important detail.”

  “No one knows exactly. Nothing normal, likely nothing important.”

  I sigh, my idea deflating before it was even a fully-formed idea.

  “Why?” Pax asks.

  I search the floor around my feet, spot a worn brown book just poking out from under the bench, and kick it across to him.

  “There’s a bunch of ancient weapons in there, most of them myths. I flicked through it thinking maybe the blade in the prophecy would be in there. There are weapons made of Silvari glass, and while we don’t use that kind of thing much anymore, it’s not unheard of. If we had a strong supply, I’m sure they’d be more popular.”

  Pax picks the book open to a random page and frowns down at the illustration before holding it up. Two crossed daggers fill the left page, with a poem on the right. The daggers are a dark metal, curved on the tips and etched in Silvari Seals. They’re almost engulfed in lightning. The charge from those things alone could keep the border up for a few weeks.

  “Definitely a myth,” I say. Anything with that much power would never have simply been lost.

  “Artagan Daggers. Forged in black dragon steel and sealed to conduct any amount of pure energy; heat or lightning are just two examples. Used as blades, they will last for eternity. Used to absorb magic, they will build in power until they are deadly to the touch. Over time, if left unused, the power will seep back out. The wielder shall either gain strength from their use, or be torn to pieces conducting the energy. The daggers decide which,” Pax reads.

  “You’re welcome to go through it. I just thought if weapons are going missing, then what kinds of weapons might be important – later. When we have time to deal with it.”

  “Is any of this important right now?” Seth asks.

  He’s right. I’m all about information, but equally about prioritizing.

  Spring.

  Bubble.

  Pax’s plan – organize the Elites.

  Kill Eyv Hyll.

  Get the Aeons back to the White Castle.

  Maybe then explore the missing weapons and the rumors.

  Execute Pax’s plan.

  All in that order.

  “Agreed. I just need to know what to do next. If Hyll gets near Beautiful, the mortal doesn’t stand a chance. Hyll has been draining the springs and the border; she’s a big problem. I don’t like big problems.”

  I manage to keep my mouth shut, but what did Pax expect? He killed her whole family line – all of them. The woman is the last of her kind because Pax – and Thane – lost their shit. Leaving alive the one person who deserved to die was a horrific oversight.

  Jada’s light steps barely catch our attention before the woman is in the room. She leans against the banister and abruptly ends our conversation. Especially when Seth gets up and exits straight past her without a word.

  Jada sniffs her armpits, then nods in agreement. “I do smell like a sewer rat.”

  Pax snorts. “Jada, you’ve never been near a sewer.”

  “I know. What are we talking about?”

  “In a nutshell – threats,” I say.

  “And once we remove those threats? What then?”

  Pax scrubs a hand down his face – sure, we were discussing that too, but we hadn’t come to a conclusion. Not even close to one. This woman cuts straight to the heart, she always has. I just hadn’t noticed how matter of fact she is about it, black and white, and what we know she really wants to know. Maybe it’s because Kitten sees the world in a totally different way, maybe it’s because Jada has been in the Black Castle with the evil of this realm, but her attitude is just starting to churn uncomfortably in the pit of my stomach.

  “You left the other Sabers outside the barrier without a key?” Pax realizes.

  “They’re doing a job,” she counters.

  “Jada, you were doing a job,” I say, softer than Pax would have and only just getting in before him.

  “And I’ll return to it when I’m needed.”

  “I’ll do it myself,” Pax deadpans, his tone so heavy with irritation and dominance it comes off as flat and beyond argument.

  “When are you going to see that you’re not their servant, they are yours?”

  Pax gets to his feet, dusting his pants off for no real reason, before walking up to Jada – and past her. Even I thought he was going to stop and honor her question, and she looks downright shocked he hasn’t.

  “Pax, it’s better to serve the ruler that rules than die in the dirt no better than a peasant,” she shouts after him.

  Then he’s gone, and she turns to glare at me.

  “Don’t look at me,” I declare. “I’m never going to rule. It’s Pax or no one.”

  “You can rule together,” she snaps.

  “There’s only one Crown, Jada. As many people can stand beside him or her as they want, but there has always only been one crown, and usually the daughter wears it. My mother wore it, her mother before her. Pax might have been her prophesied successor, but I sure wasn’t. I’m not made for it. I won’t do it.”

  “Killian can,” she says.

  And it makes me smirk that her next choice wasn’t the Chaos brother.

  “Good luck,” I say, rather more cheerfully than I intended, then I turn and pick up my book. I’ve more important things to worry about than the literal crown anyway.

  Five Paces

  All of them leave me alone with Killian once more.

  “Good doggy,” I mutter, patting myself on the head, because that’s exactly what I am right now.

  I guess the conversation’s over.

  “Follow,” Killian says, moving towards the kitchen and giving me just enough time to roll my eyes at him – and scramble off the couch.

  “Are sit and beg also in my list of commands?”

  Which makes him chuckle.

  For some reason Killian’s laugh always stops everything, including my grumbling.

  He turns the handle to the oven door, the thing giving a slight creak as the cast-iron hinges move, and I switch to a new topic.

  “So, you and Rose?”

  “No.”

  “No what?”

  “You know. No.”

  With a nearby towel, he removes two loaves of bread. The steam rises off their soft white tops, swirling in the air and filling my nose with that delicious fresh bread scent. He sets them on the board on the bench. It’s not a very big kitchen, made just right for the quaint little house with a sink on the far wall, a bench down the left wall, half a bench floating out to separate the space from the sitting room, and the larder door and almost bare shelving on the right wall.

  It’s cozy.

  I hop up onto the bench that juts out from the wall, giving me the full view of the kitchen and what Killian is doing and putting the rest of the world behind my back.

  “Cow,” I say stabbing my thumb over my shoulder toward the last place I saw Rose, then pointing at him. “Bull.”

  My math is pretty simple.

  He just frowns at me. And here I was thinking the analogy was funny. “No,” he repeats.

  “She already told me that you two were lovers, Killian. What I want to know is whether you were just occasional bed companions or in love.” And if they’re still in love.

  That last
part is very important.

  “No.”

  He flips the hot tray and drops the loaves violently onto the bench, sending the scattering of flour still on the surface into the air. Then he grabs two proofing loaves from next to the sink and slides them into the oven – closing the door with a louder thud than necessary and dusting the flour from his hands.

  All I’m going to get are ‘no’s, which twists my lungs into a tight, hard-to-breathe knot.

  “Who baked?” I grumble – which is so far from what I want to know that asking it makes me angry.

  “Someone.”

  Right. Sabers like their food. They’re probably going to eat that whole deer that Rose killed and then want more. I rub my hands up and down my arms – trying to calm down and failing. Getting all emotional about Rose again was the perfect distraction from my bubble. And now I’m thinking about Rose and my bubble – and Teegan, Teegan is definitely on my mind too.

  “Cold?” Killian asks.

  “Agitated.”

  “Angry?”

  “Scared.”

  “Not scared,” he tells me, his brow drawing down.

  “I think I know how I’m feeling,” I snap.

  “I know how you’re feeling too,” he says, pointing a finger at me, then running it up and down to indicate all of me. “You smell like –” he trails off, like he’s still searching for the right word. “A caged animal.”

  Which puts a crease in my brow.

  “I am a caged animal.”

  “Caged mortal. Hungry caged mortal,” he says, turning to rip a chunk off the fresh loaf of bread and shoving it in my direction.

  Steam lifts and swirls into the air, and my stomach twists, ordering me to grab and devour.

  “That’s too hot,” I say, managing to use common sense to not grab and devour it just yet.

  He lifts the bread, blows just once, then holds it back out to me – which has absolutely no effect on the temperature but does make my insides freaking melt, because that was adorable. The huge, scarred warrior before me just blew delicately on my piece of bread.

  I smile at him, but I still don’t take the bread. “That honestly doesn’t feel too hot to you?”

  “The cast iron would be,” he says, waving a hand at the stove beside him.

  Then he grabs the tea towel and tosses it at me. For half a second I see a shadow dart from the material and vanish behind Killian’s shoulder. So quick. Too quick to see what it was, or even be sure it was something and not a trick of the light.

  I fumble to catch the tea towel, practically smacking myself in the face with it. As soon as I have it in my hands, he tosses me the bread.

  Which I catch on instinct, in the hand without the tea towel.

  “Hot,” I exclaim, bouncing it up and trying to manipulate the tea towel before it lands on the floor.

  The needs-to-be-swept-and-mopped-but-damned-if-I’m-doing-it floor.

  Killian starts chuckling, and as soon as I have a grip on my bread, I glare up at him. “Why?”

  “I like you,” he chuckles, and that sound stops everything again.

  Damn it – that’s just impossible to argue with.

  I growl under my breath and rip off a small corner of the bread to chew slowly. He’s given me half the loaf, and it’s warming my hands through the tea towel. It’s such a nice feeling that I don’t want it to end. Something moves in the corner of my eye, dashing behind Killian’s shoulder again. Or at least I think it did, just a flicker of a shadow, but there’s no flickering candles or firelight in here.

  I point over his left shoulder. “What was that?”

  “What?” he asks, turning in a full circle to look behind him.

  He’s wearing his long sleeve black shirt with the leather on the forearms and a criss-cross tie in a V on his chest – but no shadow.

  “Nothing,” I sigh, tearing off another piece of bread. “I need you to help me understand the dynamics here. I don’t like feeling caged, and it’s not the bubble that’s bugging me – it’s the people.”

  He nods. “You were jealous of our servants at the castle; of course, you’re jealous of our equals.”

  “Then give me the damn key – or a weapon.”

  “To cut through the bars?”

  “No, to remove your equals.”

  His chuckle turns into a full belly laugh, drawing my eyes to his lips. The stubble on his chin, the small creases of his laughter – and his lips. I bite my own and try not to admit I’d be less jealous if he’d just let me kiss him.

  Not going to happen, I remind myself.

  I’ve tried. He pushed me back. I’m not a sucker for that kind of punishment – instead I suffer in silence.

  “Eat,” he insists.

  And I obey.

  A part of me still plans on killing every female Saber in existence, which makes Killian laugh. It doesn’t make me laugh; what it does is twist my insides up in a tight little knot.

  Killian wipes the palm of his hands over his eyes, saying, “So jealous.”

  First one, then another Elorsin begins to thump down the stairs, and I lean back, craning my neck to see exactly who is going to emerge first.

  Seth, who meets my gaze and beams and joins us.

  “Why don’t you just tell her we’re not interested in any of them and put her out of her misery?” he says. The bread in my hands has cooled, and I begin to devour it, enjoying the show. “Even Darkness isn’t interested, Vexy. There’s too much at stake right now.”

  “How do you know?” Killian asks him, grabbing the other half of the loaf – well, of this loaf since there are several others on the bench.

  Seth shrugs. “I mostly pay attention, brother.”

  Pax appears, looks at Seth, points with his head outside, then goes straight for the front door.

  I’m not going to lie, that makes me feel a little hollow.

  Seth blows me a little kiss, miming being dragged out the door by an invisible rope around the neck, which I’m pretty sure Pax doesn’t see because the Commander is already talking and pointing.

  I chuckle over the first part of Pax’s sentence and only hear half of his order.

  “… around the perimeter, I want to see everything.”

  “Yes, boss,” Seth says, then takes off at a jog.

  “What’s going on?” I ask Killian.

  He grunts a ‘no idea’ kind of noise. If he doesn’t know, and I don’t know, and we’re in here, and they’re all out there, then there’s not much we can do to find out.

  I try a different question instead. “What’s Pax’s problem?”

  Which earns me another ‘no idea’ response.

  “What’s Roarke doing?”

  ‘No idea.’

  “What do you know?”

  He points at the roof and says, “Jada’s coming down.” Then at me. “No murder.”

  My jaw drops. First, when did Jada go up? I didn’t even hear footsteps, and second, why can’t I murder her? It would certainly be entertaining.

  And relaxing.

  And rewarding.

  And refreshing – apple juice is refreshing, and wine is only fruit juice left in a barrel for a while.

  Note to self – source a barrel to store Jada in.

  Before I’ve finished my daydreaming, she alights softly on the bottom step, spots us, smiles warmly, and saunters over.

  Really, there’s nothing threatening about her. She has a soft air, a gentle kind of power, and brings herself into the room with every sense that she belongs here.

  Which makes that something that’s getting under my skin even more annoying – because I can’t explain it. What does it matter if she rests a hand on one of my guys? It wasn’t her lips – or any other body part. They can choose their own mates, even Pax. His power may have decided to like me, and his wolf apparently, but that doesn’t mean that Pax has chosen me. The man can’t even stop for two minutes to say hello.

  Which means there is no logical reason to murder
Jada – just a whole lot of illogical ones, which I mentally try to shove in the apple cellar so I can focus and do as Killian has asked.

  Killian pats me on the head, saying, “Good Shadow.”

  I’m pretty sure he’s referring to my current train of thought that has led me away from another bout of full-blown jealousy – for now.

  “Okay, I best know the mortal’s story then. What’s her name?” Jada says, walking up to the loaf of bread and cutting herself a nice clean slice.

  I’m not going to bother answering, but Killian plants a hand either side of me on the bench and looks me in the eyes as he says, “Shade.”

  That’s it, one word.

  “Shade? Is that your pet-name for her?”

  “Nope, real name,” I say, also looking at Killian.

  His eyes are black, with flecks of emerald starting to show around the edges. A sign he’s enjoying himself – or about to.

  “Shade isn’t a mortal or a Silvari name.”

  “I know,” I say, finally meeting her gaze.

  Shadows and Shade, the words echo in my mind in Cook’s voice. Living in the shadows and shade should be easy – it’s all I know – yet somehow I’ve managed to find the biggest, brightest fog light in the whole damn kingdom.

  “At least tell me she’s a noble.”

  “Nope,” I say, popping my ‘p’s like Seth does. “Nothing but a servant.”

  Which makes Killian rumble and straighten from his lean against the bench.

  “That doesn’t make any sense. What benefit could this possibly have? Pax told me the prophecy, and none of it mentions a mortal, or a servant – what do they call you? Soot? Why would you have been in the Elorsins’ room when I arrived? In bed with Pax. I still don’t understand how you’re alive.”

  My stomach does a hard flip, and all of a sudden I know how Roarke feels when I’m asking embarrassing questions. She starts pacing and tapping one delicate finger on her chin as she thinks.

  I, however, don't think, and just start talking. “It’s not like that.”

  Because she’s implying we were having sex that first night, which means she’s implying I would sleep with someone within the first week of meeting them, which unsettles me – that’s just not true.

  “You haven’t fucked him?” Jada asks.