Dar shrugs. Perhaps. Or maybe this time your parents won’t ask you nicely to go with them. You’ve heard what they say when they don’t know you’re listening—they think you’re crazy just like the servants do. They may force you to undergo the Zinnians’ “cure.” You’d never be able to mold the shadows again.
I shudder. “I thought you said you were taking care of that.”
Dar harrumphs and slides off the bed again. Try as I might, I can’t shake the needling worry or the image of Lord Tate pale as death in the guest room. I lower my voice to a whisper. “Did you do this to Tate? Is that what you meant by fixing things?”
Dar puffs out. I did what needed to be done.
“So that’s how you changed Tate’s mind? You put him in a coma?” Something cold and hard begins to form in my chest, like my heart is freezing over.
I did not mean to. She deflates. But he will live, and now, he cannot take you away.
I swallow hard. “Can you fix it? Can you undo whatever you’ve done?”
I’m sorry, but I can’t in this form. If I were flesh again, maybe. Dar slinks farther across the room then circles back up on the bed, almost like she’s pacing.
Her unspoken words hang in the air between us: I’m the one who can bring her back to a full life.
I remember skinned knees from tripping through the woods when I was little, soothed by Dar’s misty hands. Whispered words of comfort in my ears when I’d wake screaming from nightmares and no one else came to hold me. Days of lessons alone in my rooms with only Dar to help me learn my letters because the long string of tutors refused to return. I may not like the circumstances, but I know in my heart that Dar is protecting me still, in her own way, even now. And this time, I can do something for her in return. Then we’ll finally be able to have a real life friendship that no one else can deny or judge.
I pull at a loose thread on the edge of my blanket. “I’ve never been far from home. I’ve never even left the grounds of this estate.” After the incident, Mother and Father never wanted to take me anywhere. “Where would we go? What would we do? What if I can’t carry out the ritual for you? All I’m good at is crafting shadows and scaring other people.”
I’ll show you how to perform the ritual, then we can come back and make everything right again. It must be done at the height of the full blood moon, and the next one is a week or so away. The timing is just right. I can help you fix things, but only if I’m made flesh. I will always take care of you, Emmeline. Leave tonight, and you can be free. She pauses. We both can.
I look away and out the window instead. The sun glares in, making me blink. What will I have to do to perform the ritual that will set her free?
“I don’t know if I can do this.” It was one thing when I agreed to let Dar change Lord Tate’s mind. It’s another to throw myself to the wilds and rely on her for survival. Here at home, we are never without a cook.
Sensing my uneasiness, Dar wraps around my shoulders. You will make it through this. We will do it together.
“But will Lord Tate?” I say before I can think better of it. Fighting with Dar isn’t going to help me.
He will, once you set me free. But he might not if you stay here. The soldiers from Zinnia are already on their way. They sent their fastest sparrow with a message as soon as Tate was discovered.
“How do you know?”
Because I know the Zinnians. If they deem you guilty, they will throw you in a cell—a well-lit one with no shadows just for you—and let you rot until they decide to cure you. What will become of me then? Please, save yourself. Save us both.
I can sense the desperation in her plea. She knew the Zinnians in her first life. She knows what we’d be getting into, and she needs me to get us both out of it.
Flee, and we’ll be free.
My head pounds with confusion and fear, but a sudden clarity fills me. “You’re right. We’ll leave at dusk.”
• • •
By the time dusk falls, a small platoon of men with silver helmets and bright green cloaks appears in the yard bathed in the first shadows of the evening.
My insides upend themselves. Dar was right.
My family will not come to my aid; they’ll send me away with the Zinnians, and I’ll never be the same again. I might even become like that horrible little girl, Simone. Fear tightens my chest, making it difficult to breathe.
We must hurry, Dar warns.
Unfortunately, my door is still locked despite my best efforts to pick it this afternoon. I gather all the shadows in the room and begin forming a length of rope. Silently, I open the window and fasten my shadow rope to the foot of my bed. Then I slowly lower it down the side of the house. No doubt some of the soldiers are inside, but the ones who remain mill around between a handful of tents on our back lawn. I’ll have to get by them to reach the forest. I can use the shadows to my advantage there.
But first, I need food. There’s no way I can survive on my own for even a day if I don’t find my way to the kitchens first. I lower myself down, nervous only for a moment. I’ve never used shadows to carry my weight before, and I’m relieved when it holds. I shimmy down the rope and land in the shadow of one of the small bushes that dots the yard. The bone-white brick wall of the house rises up at my back. I crouch, Dar at my side, and pull the shadows in the rope around me to form a blanket. I creep along the side of the mansion, sticking as close to it as possible, until I reach the servants’ entrance to the kitchens.
I slip inside, holding my breath once the door closes behind us. I count to ten, just to be safe. No shouts arise, and no servants have spied me here. It’s dinnertime, and the cook and the servants must be busy bringing the food into the dining hall. Probably busier than usual with the additional guests.
If it’s time for dinner, they’ll discover you’re gone soon, Dar says.
Drat, she’s right. They’ll bring my dinner to my rooms. And I won’t be there to answer the knock at my door. The alarm could go up any second.
I duck into the kitchen and grab an empty flour sack discarded nearby. I fill it as heavy as I can stand with fruit and bread and jerky. I even swipe a couple of my favorite tarts.
Don’t forget water, Dar reminds me as I’m about to leave.
I hunt for a moment, then find a water skein in a cupboard. I toss it in the flour sack too, then throw that over my shoulder. I wish I had a real pack, but I’ve never needed one before. This will have to do.
We sneak back outside, and I cautiously make my way to the side of the house facing the woods. The lawn feels like an enormous expanse with the tents and the guards standing between me and the trees. I duck down behind a shrub and call my shadows to me.
Then I begin to weave. The shadows, responding to my call, thread together to create the shapes I envision in my mind. One twist of my wrist, and they move into position like my own personal army waiting for a command.
As far as the soldiers standing guard can see, it is only one shadow that moves at first, maybe cast by a tree in the night breeze. Then another wiggles at the edge of the yard, startling the nearest soldier. Yet another moves like a rustling shrub where no shrub really is. The guard cries out, and steps forward to investigate.
My murmuring shadows surround the makeshift camp. The soldiers exchange wary, wide-eyed glances but can’t find a cause. No one notices one more shadow dodging across the lawn, not when the shadow blanket I’ve made blends so perfectly with the darkness.
Breathless, I make it to the tree line and take one last, lingering look at my home. Then I step into the forest, and the shadows swallow me whole.
Chapter Seven
We flee through the woods and darkness, and the tall trees form a cocoon around us in welcome. Dar clings to me, hiding me from anything else that may be haunting the woods after dusk.
When the cry finally goes up that I’m missing, all we hear are distant ech
oes.
They have horses and may catch up if we stop, Dar says.
I shudder. I don’t like horses. Or rather, they don’t like me. The one time I ventured into the stables when I was younger, our mare and stallion reared and frothed at the mouth. I was spirited away, though whether it was for my safety or theirs I could not say.
Mother said my magic scared them. They could smell it on me, just the same as fear or an apple concealed in a pocket.
We keep moving, the trees’ shadows lengthening and curling around me. Far away, the sounds of hooves and branches snapping trickle toward us, spurring me to move faster.
We’ll outpace them. I know it.
I can’t explain why Dar is so sure of this, but I have no choice but to trust her. It isn’t long before my breath becomes ragged and my legs begin to ache. “I can’t do it. I have to stop.”
Just a little farther. There’s a break in the trees ahead.
I grumble but pick up my feet, one after the other. Regret fills my lungs. Fleeing is not particularly fun, and I can’t help but wish that I was at home, safe in my room.
Up ahead, moonlight breaks through the edge of the forest. But when I reach the last tree, I halt, wrapping an arm around the dark trunk, gasping.
A huge crack in the earth lies before us. A gorge. There is no bridge in sight. We have traveled considerably farther than I have ever dared to venture before.
“We’re trapped,” I whisper.
I can feel the weight of Dar’s smile at my back. Hardly. This is perfect. If they follow, they’ll have to go around for who knows how many miles to find a bridge.
A hint of excitement warms my cheeks. “But I can make my own. The shadow rope held my weight. A shadow bridge should too.”
It will, trust me.
Sneaking down one story of a building using a shadow rope is one thing; walking out onto open air and a who-knows-how-deep drop is another entirely. The hoofbeats in the distance pound in my ears, and my hands suddenly turn slick.
I have no other choice.
My magic takes hold of the nearest shadows cast by the tall trees, laying them across the gorge like long flat boards. They hit the edge of the other side and stick in place, just as I direct. Soon more shadow boards join, and twining smoky ropes lash the boards together and secure themselves around trees on either side to form a railing.
The sounds of pursuit grow louder. A bitter taste lingers in my mouth as I eye my work.
We go together, Dar says.
I swallow my fear and set one foot on the shadow plank bridge. It holds my weight. Then my other foot. My hands squeeze the shadow railing. Dizziness, part from exhilaration, part from terror, swims across my vision.
One foot after the other. Look straight ahead.
Halfway across the gorge, echoing voices reach my ears, joining the hoofbeats. My heart stammers in my chest.
Go! Dar urges, but I make the mistake of glancing down.
Every limb turns to stone. The drop is impossible. Water rushes far below over rocks and fallen logs, a frothy, sparkling ribbon in the moonlight.
Dar screams in my ears. Emmeline! They’re coming!
I close my eyes to shut out the drop and steady my throbbing pulse. Then I run headlong the rest of the way across the bridge. I stumble into the grass on the other side and fall to my knees.
The hoofbeats grow louder, mingling with the braying of the horses. With a wave of my hand, I send the pieces of my shadow bridge scattering back to their proper places in the night.
“Thank you,” I whisper to the departing shadows as I run for the cover of the forest on this side of the gorge. I hide behind one of the trees to catch my breath. The pounding hoofbeats reach a fever pitch then halt suddenly. Dar and I curl around our tree to see if our pursuers realize where I’ve gone.
There are so many, Dar says.
Indeed, there are. The green cloaks of the guards stand out in the night, moving in a rhythm known only to their circling horses.
Look! Dar laughs. The gorge has perplexed them. They’re returning to the forest!
It is a welcome sight to see them maneuver their horses farther down the edge of the gorge. A weight lifts from my chest, but I squash the laugh that bubbles inside for fear of giving myself away.
“They must think they passed us.”
Then we’re safe for now. Dar wraps around my shoulders, and I lean into the familiar comfort. We should go a little farther. Then you can stop to rest.
I press on through the trees. The moon is high above our heads, and my beloved fireflies flicker around us like stars come down from the heavens. If I wasn’t exhausted, I’d be twirling through the ferns that coat the forest floor. But here there is no path for us to follow, and no way of knowing what lies ahead. Just the thought makes me feel weightless and lost.
When we reach an outcropping of boulders made from a deep-black stone, I finally stop. My feet will take me no farther tonight. I wrap the shadows around me, and lay down on a bed of pine needles between the rocks.
“Dar, what did you look like when you were alive?”
I hardly remember. I was a shape shifter, so I was rarely in my original form anyway. And it was so long ago that I don’t recall. I lost so much to the Zinnians.
I wonder how old she was, what color hair and eyes she had. Was she pretty and admired? How many people mourned her loss?
I suppose we shall find out, Dar says. Once you perform the ritual and bring me back.
A smile dances over my lips. This is the one happy thing about my flight from home: Dar will soon be real. My best friend will be flesh and blood and can fully join in with our games.
“I can’t wait,” I say.
I begin to drift off, and Dar tucks herself under my head like a pillow, whispering stories in my ear until I fall asleep.
• • •
When the light of a new day wakes me, I ache all over. I’ve never had to run that far that quickly in my whole life. The pain in my limbs is joined by a fierce tightness in my chest.
I have no idea where we are. We are far from my parents’ estate and the trees I’ve befriended. There are pines and oaks, but some trees have strange white bark and others a deep reddish purple. I know the ferns, but many more plants grow here that I cannot name. Nothing is familiar. I never even knew that ravine we traversed last night existed.
Frustration and tears well up as I poke through the flour sack of provisions I brought with me. I am terribly thirsty, and I drain the water skein immediately even though Dar warns me not to. I take a bite of one of the pastries I brought. The crust is flaky and sweet, and it makes me miss home more than anything has since I left. Life was simple and easy there. I didn’t have to worry about things like water and food. I could play with my shadows, unconcerned with necessities.
I wonder if the shadows in the woods and the corners of the mansion miss me as much as I miss them?
We should set out, Dar says.
“I need to find more water first.” The ground past the boulders slopes downward. Perhaps farther along it meets the river we saw far below the shadow bridge last night.
You should have drunk it sparingly, she says, her shape spreading over the ground near me.
“I will drink what I want,” I snap, then get to my feet. I shouldn’t be short with her, but there’s no help for it now.
Dar goes silent, and her coloring is lighter than usual. A trick of the sun? Or is she mad at me too?
“We’ll have to find the river that runs through that gorge. We don’t have a destination in mind; what does a little detour matter?”
My shadow has nothing to say to this, but her shape has grown smaller, like she doesn’t even want to touch me right now. Something in the pit of my stomach twists.
I gather my things, then straighten my spine and march in the dir
ection I believe the river went. My aching muscles object with every step. If I walk far enough, I’ll have to hit water of some kind eventually. I hope.
As far as I can tell, we are still within the domain of my family’s territory, Parilla. According to my books, there should be several villages scattered between their estate and the border with the next territory over, Abbacho. Zinnia is on the opposite side of Parilla. In other words, every step ought to take me farther beyond their reach.
The boulders I slept between last night were at the top of a steep hill. The journey down is not as easy as I’d hoped. In many places the incline is sharp, and I have to walk around for who knows how far to find an easier slope. The trees here don’t seem to be troubled by it at all. Instead, they grow out from the side of the hill, giving the landscape the appearance of being some sort of many-armed beast.
The sun moves across the sky, and my thirst grows stronger along with an ache in my stomach. I hate to admit it but Dar is right. I should have drunk the water more slowly. She still hasn’t said a word and trails a few feet behind me on a thin shadow string like a wayward balloon.
It’s rather lonely out here in the woods with no one to talk to.
But the birds chirp freely, and strange small creatures tumble through the undergrowth. Velvet ferns cover the hillside, nearly as high as my waist, and I run my hands over the tops as I pass through them.
Suddenly another sound joins them. Something loud and thunderous, but it began so gradually that I’m almost upon whatever makes the sound before I understand what I’m hearing.
I hit another steep incline, but the view gives me hope. Below it runs a river that’s strong and clear. Just the sight of it makes my dry mouth water with need.
I can create many things from shadows, but no amount of wishing will allow me to create real, drinkable water from it.
The shadows of the nearby trees heed my call eagerly, the smaller ones cast by the thinning ferns, and any others creeping down the hill. I spool them together, creating a circular shape in the air. Thinning it out, I make it wider and curved like a shallow bowl. When I’m finished, I choose a launch point with the least amount of trees between me and the riverbank. I place my shadow sled on the ground as close as I dare to where the incline sharpens and settle inside it, tying my flour sack to my belt.
Shadow Weaver Series, Book 1 Page 4
