by Bronwyn Eley
‘How many are there?’ I was awed by their sheer number. We hadn’t even been able to afford one small dog growing up. Elias begged and begged, and I still remember the way my mother brushed his hair back when she explained that we just couldn’t afford to keep one.
‘Take a guess.’ The side of Markus’ mouth quirked.
I shook my head, eyes passing over the quivering shadow before us. ‘I don’t know – twenty-five?’
‘Close. Thirty-two.’
Thirty-two hounds belonging to one man. Thirty-two controlled by another. I wasn’t sure which fact impressed me more. Lord Rennard’s nameless horse came to mind. I know my Master of the Hunt has his own little name for her, he had said.
‘Do they have names?’
‘Every single one.’
‘How do you keep track?’
‘When you spend as much time with them as I do, you just do. Besides, they all have their unique features, just like we do.’ He nodded at me, gaze locked with mine. ‘Nice eyes.’
It wasn’t as if I was the only person in the world with blue eyes, but it was a rare sight in our city. My father always smiled mischievously when he looked into my eyes, and as a child I wondered if he was trying to communicate a secret only blue-eyed people could know. None of my brothers inherited the trait, and it made me feel special, just as Markus had made me feel now. I felt my face flush and hoped he couldn’t see the effect his words had.
‘And what about Lord Rennard’s horse?’ I asked, filling the silence.
‘Oh, you mean Bolt?’ he said.
‘Bolt?’ I asked incredulously.
He held up his hands. ‘I know Rennard hates it.’
Rennard.
Markus was much younger than Lord Rennard – closer to my age, in fact. But Rennard had said that he’d known Markus since he was a child. Perhaps Markus’ parents were friends of his.
‘He doesn’t like naming his animals. I think he simply sees them as workers.’ Markus clicked his tongue. ‘But for me, I couldn’t stand calling them all you, so I named them. It took me nearly a year to remember them all correctly. I put little markers on them to help at first, but now ...’ He shrugged.
‘So why Bolt?’
He chuckled. ‘That’s the first thing she did when I went to touch her. It was my first official day as Master, and I was a little rusty. She knocked me right over, nearly trampled my legs. Instead, she took off, bolted, in that direction.’ He nodded to his left. ‘I spent the next hour chasing her. Rennard wasn’t too impressed, but she warmed to me eventually.’
‘And now you’re the best of friends?’ I teased, feeling the old Kaylan creeping back. The Kaylan who used to joke and tease and run and laugh. I thought that Kaylan had died already, but she was merely suppressed. It felt good to let her out.
Unwise, but good.
‘No one resists my charm for long.’ Markus’ eyes crinkled from the size of his smile. He certainly had charm, and I resisted telling him it was better left directed at the dogs. There was no point wasting charm on a dying girl.
Behind Markus, a stocky figure rushed past in the distance. The man wore all brown and kept his arms taut by his side as he appeared out of the gardens. Noting my drifting attention, Markus looked over his shoulder.
‘Warren!’ he called, waving a long arm in the air. The man, Warren, shot a look in our direction and slowed slightly. ‘Are they ready?’
‘Not yet, sir!’ Warren huffed back, his voice barely audible under his panting. ‘A day or so.’
‘I need those shoes now,’ Markus called back lightly. ‘Or, rather, Lord Rennard needs them if his guards are to join him on his next hunt.’
Warren slowed, but kept moving. ‘I have a task pile as thick and round as me, and Thomas has been unwell for over a week now. A day or so, no more.’
‘Or so,’ Markus chuckled. ‘Alright! I’ll come by in a day or so to check on you then, shall I?’
Warren waved a hand and resumed his pace, disappearing from sight. Markus pointed after him. ‘Warren is the Blacksmith.’
I didn’t need his explanation – I had known who he was the moment I saw him. His skin was rough and dirty, sweaty hair clung to the sides of his face, and a leather apron was strapped to his front. Even without the talk of horseshoes, I could tell.
‘Used to have a rather large group under his wing down in the smithy. But Jenos’ wife just passed away, so he’s taking time to care for his children, and Tom is apparently sick. Warren’s in between apprentices, so I hear.’
He smiled down at me, unaware of the meaning the topic held for me. I felt the threat of tears as my throat tightened. I swallowed, taking a deep breath to clear away old thoughts, and changed the subject.
‘She seems to be able to resist your charm just fine.’ I nodded behind him. Markus turned to catch sight of the same dog from before stepping out of line again. She moved around her obedient friends, sniffing at their hinds.
‘Q!’ he called, moving toward her. Her head snapped up. ‘Come here.’
She scampered over to him, tail wagging. Markus grabbed the sides of her face, nearly as large as his hands. ‘You think you’re cute, but Rennard won’t agree. Trust me.’ He released her. ‘Now, wait.’
Once she settled, Markus turned to me, hands shoved in his back pockets. ‘I should get back to them. I think they’re jealous. Missing the attention.’
‘Q?’ I asked. ‘As in the letter?’
He raised his hands in defence. ‘My sister named her. There was nothing I could do.’
‘Right, blame your sister.’ I smirked. What was I doing? I wasn’t some foolish girl flirting with a boy from the streets. I certainly wasn’t Shae, whose job it was to lure men in with her wit and charm. I was the Shadow, playing cruel games with a nice man. ‘I should get to work as well.’
He nodded. ‘Tell Jesper to come see me.’
I paused briefly on my way back into the stables, holding my hand up in farewell. ‘I will.’
I won’t.
If she went to see Markus, he would ask about me and learn what a liar I was. But what I didn’t understand was why it mattered to me at all. I wasn’t afraid of hurting his feelings. He was a grown man. I’m sure he would understand the mistake, understand why I did it. But then how would he look at me? He would lose that carefree charm. And I would lose my last chance to be seen as a person, not the Shadow.
‘Everything alright?’ he asked.
I pushed down my internal dilemma and smiled. ‘Of course. I should go. Lots of work to do.’ Actually, my first job was to clean out the stables, but I would have to wait until he was gone. That wasn’t the job of Lady Jesper’s maid. I waved again and turned to the stables.
‘Shae,’ he called. I almost didn’t stop, even though I knew he was speaking to me. Visions of my best friend flooded my mind. Maybe I was more like her than I realised. There was no doubt in my mind that she never let her clients know the real Shae. She would smile, compliment, dominate and then take them to her bed, because that’s what was required of her. Not for one second did I believe that place hadn’t turned her into a liar.
Were my reasons to lie as justified as hers?
Answer to your fake name, you fool.
I glanced back, waiting. Markus was turned to leave, dogs at the ready behind him. They were tensed to run the moment he dropped his outstretched hand: leaning forward on their front legs, hind legs straining to be released.
His eyes, alight with energy, burned into mine. ‘Don’t be a stranger.’
Then he was gone. His long legs took him away easily, his dogs happy to have the attention of their master once more. They disappeared behind one of the undulating hills of the castle grounds. I could still hear their barks in the distance.
Part of me wanted to follow, but a stronger part knew I could not.
Chapter 7
Seeing all of Edriast’s Councilmen in one room should have overwhelmed me – frightened me, even – but it didn’t.
There were twelve of them wrapped around the long table, Rennard at the head, Thorn hovering by the door. My gaze found Nobleman Nevea, the Councillor of Smiths, which included all the forges in Edriast, all weapon and tool manufacturers. Even as the head of our forge, Tosh reported to someone higher. I wasn’t sure how many people there were between him and Nevea, but this was the Nobleman who controlled us.
Rennard controlled all of them.
My whole life in Edriast had passed without ever laying eyes on them. Now here they were – all twelve. Nobleman Mannar, too old to still be working, in my opinion, was Councillor of Coin. Sedly was in charge of Foreign Relations, including trade; Dannve was in charge of Education.
And so it went on.
For once, I welcomed my invisibility.
‘If we wanted the opinions of men like Farlen, there would be a system in place to hear them.’ Sedly surged forward with his words, fingers pressing into the wooden table.
‘Maybe things like this wouldn’t –’
‘But we don’t,’ Sedly pushed on, ignoring Nobleman Enllen. Councilman Enllen. I wasn’t sure which title mattered to them more. To go beyond the station of Nobleman, to be appointed one of Lord Rennard’s Councillors, gave them a level of distinction even among their richest and most distinguished peers. ‘You don’t see Lord Rennard reaching for their opinions.’
Enllen sunk back in his chair. ‘No,’ he said grimly, with a respectful nod toward his master, who was watching on, silence his closest companion.
‘Farlen didn’t follow protocol –’ Nobleman Luscion had the loudest voice of the group, but Sedly had the loudest opinion.
‘No, he didn’t.’ Sedly shot a quick look of agreement to Luscion before returning to Enllen. ‘Why would you take notice of the grumblings of one menial worker? You should have sent him and his opinion back to work without a moment’s consideration.’
‘Nevertheless,’ Enllen stressed, ignoring the flying opinions and directing his efforts to the silent head of the table, ‘fair points were made, my lord. If it were the first occurrence, not a second thought to it – but I see several cases of this each season. The work is simply too demanding for ten-year-olds. An accident here or there is expected, but I fear needlessly wasting halfways to crippling injuries.’
It was the first time I had heard of any Nobleman showing concern for the halfways who worked for him. Those first few years were a struggle for most, an awkward transitional phase where we were referred to as halfways. Neither child nor adult. We were all given the same chance to prove ourselves. Assigned to varying jobs around the city, nothing was too big, too difficult or too important. Missteps were common, injuries too, just as Enllen was trying to stress. I’d had my fair share in my first years in the forge.
I ran a finger over the burn across the palm of my right hand. It had been my first week in the forge and Tosh had instructed me to pull a piece of iron from the fire. The end that was in the fire was, of course, red-hot. But it hadn’t occurred to me that even the other half, which was a normal colour, might also be scorching.
I shuddered at the memory. The sound of my scream as my skin melted. Tosh had wrenched me away from the tool and shoved my hand in a bucket of cold water. He didn’t comfort me; it wasn’t his way. Instead, he scolded me for being incredibly stupid.
‘Just because it’s not glowing, doesn’t mean it’s not hot!’ he had yelled, the grip of his hand around my arm starting to burn too. He bent down to my eye level and fixed me with his stare. ‘Assume everything is hot. Assume everything can hurt you.’
‘Character-building.’ Sedly’s voice brought me back to the room. He gave a careless shrug. ‘If they’re not cut out for the work, best to find out sooner rather than later. They can be reassigned if need be.’
‘There would be no need for reassignment if they were simply given a different role for the first few years before transitioning to the mines.’
‘What do you suggest they do, then?’ Lord Rennard’s cool voice slithered across the table, catching the attention of all twelve. Spines straightened, as if some had forgotten he was there.
Impossible.
Enllen set his expression; his chance to make his case had finally risen. ‘The Sorting work is simple and less strenuous, yet it still trains them to think logically and learn the quality and value of the produce, my lord. The first few years there, with perhaps a few occasions in the mines for training purposes, would yield better long-term workers.’
His words hung over the silent men, Lord Rennard included. Enllen released the fist he had made. ‘In my opinion, my lord. It’s just …’ He exhaled. ‘The boy was pressured into lifting something that was simply too heavy for him and –’
He paused, staring at Rennard. Could he feel it too? Could he feel the burning energy that pulsed from the Relic? He looked around at the Councilmen, his equals, and then back to his master. His face fell slack, cold. ‘I lost a perfectly good worker,’ he finished flatly.
Sedly sighed. ‘If he was stupid enough to go beyond what he could do –’
‘What of Tras working in the mines?’ Enllen snapped, all false humility gone. ‘Your son turns ten this season, does he not?’
Sedly’s mouth twisted. ‘He would never be assigned to the mines.’
‘But what if he was?’ Enllen countered. The question remained unanswered. Sedly shifted in his chair to face Lord Rennard, who continued to watch the interaction. ‘There is growing resentment, my lord. These children return to their parents less than they were, unable to work for seasons, if ever again. It does our economy no favours, either.’
Sedly’s seat skittered back as he burst to his feet. Within seconds he had leapt across the table and had his hands wrapped around Enllen’s throat. The men around him shifted back to avoid the commotion, but there was no surprise in their expressions.
Rennard chuckled when Enllen’s neck snapped sideways.
I screamed.
All the men turned to look at me, startled and bewildered expressions plastered to their faces. Rennard turned in his seat to look at me, his eyes blazing in their sockets.
‘What is it?’ he asked calmly.
I looked back at the scene of horror before me. Enllen stared at me with wide eyes, his neck no longer snapped. Sedly rested back in his chair, one eyebrow raised in annoyance. All the men were exactly as they were supposed to be.
Had I imagined it? Let my mind wander?
But it had seemed so real, enough to make me scream.
‘Well?’ Rennard pressed. The Relic pulsed, as if asking the same question.
Well?
‘I apologise, my lord.’ I sank back, dropping my head. ‘It’s nothing.’
‘Didn’t sound like nothing.’ Sedly mumbled, leaning forward to rest his elbows on the table. ‘My lord –’
A dismissive wave from Rennard silenced the man. He turned to Enllen. ‘I will think on it, Richard. Now.’ Rennard cleared his throat. ‘On the De Winter matter, I have some developments.’
Everyone in the room visibly stiffened. Thorn dropped his head. Sedly lost the smug look on his face. Enllen somehow looked more disheartened than he had only moments ago.
‘Unfortunately –’ Rennard twisted his hands together, his voice strained. The Relic seared and my breath caught in my throat. ‘No arrests have been made, but Captain Thorn and I have strategised our next moves. Going forward, I will require Henley for a special assignment.’
Enllen’s head snapped up. His chest visibly stopped moving after a sharp intake of breath. He released it. ‘My son, my lord?’
Rennard nodded and collected the papers, straightening them into a pile. ‘Notable hunting skills, last I saw.’
‘Thank you, my lord.’ But Enllen didn’t seem to care for the praise. Purple and black bruises blossomed on his neck, appearing from nowhere and spiralling in every direction. I blinked rapidly.
They were gone.
‘Excellent tracking senses,’ Lord Ren
nard continued. ‘Caught things even I missed. I can’t specify how long the assignment will be.’
And you’re not to ask questions.
Blood spurted from Enllen’s mouth, spraying so far it struck Sedly in the face. But no one moved. No one cried out. Because within seconds the blood, too, was gone.
That settled it. I was going mad.
Did any of them see blood and gore and horror? Or was it just me?
‘I will inform him tonight, my lord.’
‘Have him report to Thorn at first light tomorrow.’
‘Yes, my lord.’
Lord Rennard rose from his chair slowly, large hands spread wide on the table. The Councilmen needed no official dismissal. The speed at which the hall cleared didn’t surprise me.
One thing about the Relic was that Lord Rennard couldn’t hide how he was feeling. Especially if that emotion was anger. Some rulers would curse the object for that. They couldn’t maintain composure or a facade. But it added a certain effect, an undeniable truth to his anger.
‘Kaylan.’ Rennard sighed raggedly as he turned on me. I took a noticeable step back and he drew in a deep breath. The sear of the Relic lessened, as if he had reminded himself it wasn’t me he was angry at.
What was the De Winter matter?
‘After evening meal tonight, I require your assistance in town.’
‘In town, my lord?’ The idea of walking the streets with him, fending off stares from strangers and friends alike, set my stomach in knots. They couldn’t see me this way.
‘Yes.’ The word sliced harshly through the silence around us. ‘After evening meal clean-up, you are to meet me at the Main Gate.’
But I don’t want to go out there, my lord.
‘Yes, my lord.’
The words felt heavy on my tongue. How many more times would I say them before I died? They were seeping into my life. I feared they would put the phrase on my gravestone. If a man like Enllen had no power to refuse, I had absolutely no chance. No room to move. There was no if, no maybe, no but.
