Empire of Shadows

by Miriam Forster

  Mine.

  Mine. Mine. Mine.

  Her fingers traced the stubble on Emil’s jaw, the long muscles of his back, his shock of thick, dark hair. She’d had a few kisses before as a human, but those had been shallow, experiments with no real feeling behind them. This, though, this was want. Want and need and a kind of connection with someone else she’d never imagined. She felt like all the debris and dust of her lonely heart were washing away, leaving only happiness and belonging.

  Emil twined his hand deeper into her hair. Without breaking the kiss, he brought his other arm around her waist, wrapping her in warmth. It was the safest place Mara had ever known. Their bodies fit together like puzzle pieces until Mara couldn’t tell where one of them ended and the other began. She clung to him, never wanting it to end. And all that time the steady, satisfied growl inside her.

  Mine. Mine. Mine.

  IT WAS EMIL who pulled away first. His breath was ragged in his ears, and his head felt light. “Uh . . . ,” he said, his tongue fumbling for words. “That was . . .”

  “Yeah,” Mara said. Emil saw her swallow. Her lips were flushed and her eyes were very dark. “It was.”

  “I really . . .”

  “Me too.”

  The first chuckle caught Emil off guard, bursting out of his throat and filling the room like a stream of light. Under his supporting hand, he could feel Mara start to giggle. And then he was laughing and he couldn’t stop. The laughter bubbled up, easing the tension in his chest. Mara’s laugh mixed with his, as warm and real as her skin under his fingers.

  “Why are we laughing?” Emil said, leaning his forehead against hers.

  Mara giggled. “I don’t know.” She took a deep breath, then winced. “But I shouldn’t, it hurts.” She curled into Emil’s shoulder, making a contented noise, very like a purr. Emil stroked her arm, feeling awkward and bizarrely happy at the same time.

  “So, was that all right?” He fumbled with the words. “The kiss? I didn’t just make you break an oath, did I?”

  “What?” Mara put a hand to her scarred ear as if just remembering it was there. “Oh, no. We’re not supposed to let relationships interfere with our duty, but that’s just after we pledge to a charge. I haven’t pledged yet.”

  “But I thought you and Revathi . . .” Emil heard the hope in his own voice and hated himself for it.

  “No. I’m just working for her as a guard for hire. Until I find someone to pledge to.” A frown crossed Mara’s face, but it was gone too fast for Emil to examine it. “I think I’m going to stay in the palace for a while, though. There are some things I need to figure out.”

  Emil pushed down the jagged shards of disappointment. “I hope one of those things is getting that woman who stabbed you arrested,” he said.

  “Aari.” Mara tensed under his arm. “Emil, promise me you’ll stay away from her. Please.”

  “Why?” Emil said, pulling back a little to look down at Mara’s face. “Who is she to you? And why did she attack you?”

  “It’s hard to explain,” Mara said. “She’s Sune as well, and we had a . . . philosophical disagreement. She wasn’t trying to kill me.”

  “Really?” Emil said. “It didn’t look philosophical from where I was standing.”

  Mara reached up, curving her fingers around the back of his neck in a firm grip. “Just promise me you won’t go after her. She likes to hurt people for fun, and I don’t want her anywhere near you.”

  “All right,” Emil said. He pressed his cheek to the top of her head. “Mara . . . even if you leave the palace, you’ll still be bound to the Order, won’t you?”

  He felt Mara sigh against him. “Yes,” she said. “That’s the oath I took. I can’t break it.”

  “I understand,” Emil said, rubbing his thumb along the back of her neck. “I’ve got promises of my own to keep.”

  “Your brother.”

  “Yes.”

  “So what does that mean for us?” Mara asked, calmly straightforward.

  A smile twisted Emil’s mouth. “It means we’re in one of those romantic story-songs. Lovers torn apart by cruel fate.”

  “I hate those songs,” Mara grumbled. “Everyone dies at the end.”

  “I know,” Emil said, pulling her close and brushing another kiss across her lips. If Mara was released from her oath, if Emil found his brother and got him out safely, if somehow they found each other again, then maybe . . . but there was no comfort in ifs and maybes. And they didn’t change the good-bye that Emil could feel creeping up on them.

  “You know we wouldn’t have this problem if we weren’t both so honorable,” Emil said, trying to lighten the mood. He was rewarded by a soft laugh. Mara put her head back on his shoulder, and Emil rocked her, careful of her bandage.

  “I don’t like being honorable,” Mara said after a long moment.

  “I know,” Emil said. “Me neither.”

  They sat like that until the cold gray light began to seep around the drawn curtains. Revathi finally came back in, looking surprisingly apologetic.

  “I’m sorry, Mara,” she said. “I can’t keep my grandmother out much longer, and I don’t want her to find Emil here.” She looked at him. “It’s time to go.”

  Emil nodded. He slid away from Mara and helped tuck her into a comfortable position on the pillows. “Are you sure you’re going to be all right?” he asked her, his fingers curling over hers.

  “I will now,” Mara said. “Thanks to you.”

  Emil kissed her gently, lingering over her soft lips. “Be careful,” he said, teasing. “I don’t want to have to rescue you again.”

  “I’m the reason you’re not in a cell right now,” Mara said with a lopsided smile. “I think we rescued each other.”

  Emil laughed. “All right, we’re even.”

  Revathi cleared her throat.

  Emil swallowed. “Well . . .” The word good-bye caught in his throat, and he thought he would choke on it. “I’ll come back to see you,” he said instead, hoping it was a promise he could keep. Then he rose and almost ran out the door.

  Once he got out into the hallway, Emil stopped and leaned against the wall. His legs felt wobbly and he had to fight the urge to go back inside, to stay by Mara’s side as long as she would have him.

  Revathi came out. “Did you have fun?” she asked, with a lift of her eyebrows.

  Emil flushed. “It’s not polite to spy on people.”

  “I am not concerned with being polite at the moment,” Revathi said. She folded her arms. “Do you love her?”

  “I don’t see how that’s any of your business.”

  A small, tight smile crossed Revathi’s face. “That’s not an answer.”

  Emil pushed himself away from the wall, deliberately towering over Revathi so that she had to tilt her head back to look him in the face. “It’s all the answer you’re going to get,” he said. “I don’t like nobles and I don’t trust you, and I would take Mara away right now if I thought she would go.”

  Revathi met his gaze without flinching. “Why don’t you? You clearly don’t like leaving her here.”

  “It’s her choice,” Emil said, flexing his fingers. “I have to respect that.”

  Revathi pursed her lips, then nodded. “I see,” she said, and her voice was thoughtful. She pulled a rolled piece of paper with a noble seal on it out of her asar. “This is a pass. It’ll show the guards you have permission to be in the public areas and on the grounds of the palace complex.”

  “Thank you,” Emil said, accepting the paper. He didn’t like being beholden to Revathi, but he didn’t want to get arrested, either. He looked around the ornate hall. “Where am I, exactly?”

  “Oh, this is the Palace of Rippling Leaves. It houses the throne room, council rooms, and my family’s quarters.” Revathi pointed down the hall with her thumb. “Go that way, then take the third left, the first right, and then left again and you’ll see the front door. I’d show you myself, but I don’t want to leave Mar
a.”

  “Third left, first right, and then left again,” Emil repeated.

  “If you get lost, just look for a servant to direct you,” Revathi said. She paused. “And don’t wander into the throne room or you’ll be beheaded.”

  Emil narrowed his eyes, but Revathi’s face was completely neutral.

  “I won’t,” he said finally.

  “Good,” Revathi said. She hesitated. “Thank you for your help, Emil. I’m sorry I had you arrested.”

  Emil nodded. “Take care of Mara.”

  “I will,” Revathi said. She put her hand on the curtained doorway and looked back. “You can count on it.”

  Then she was gone.

  MARA BURIED HER face in the silk bedcover. It smelled of Emil’s earth-and-wool scent, and she breathed deeply, trying to brand it into her memory. Her cuff still lay on the bed, and she picked it up and slipped it back onto her ear. Her chest felt hollow and achy, as if Emil had taken part of her with him.

  But he’d left something behind, too. Words that settled deep inside her, warm and solid as a summer-warmed stone.

  I think you’re the bravest person I’ve ever known.

  Those words curled together with the memory of the kiss, and Mara felt like there was firm ground under her feet for the first time in years. Even if she never saw Emil again, she had his belief in her.

  She looked up when Revathi came back in. The girl had changed her clothes, choosing a knee-length tunic and trousers patterned in dark red and cream. She’d also washed her face and taken down her hair, putting it in a simple braid. Revathi’s face was thoughtful, but she smiled when she saw Mara.

  “How are you feeling?”

  Mara sat up, moving slowly. “I was about to ask you the same thing,” she said. “How’s your head?”

  Revathi reached up and scrubbed her fingers lightly through her scalp. Her fingers came away spotted with dried blood. “Haven’t gotten around to taking a bath yet,” she said, when Mara frowned. “It doesn’t hurt that much.”

  Mara patted the bed beside her. “I want to see. Come here.”

  Revathi hesitated, then walked over and sat down next to Mara. “I’m glad you’re all right,” she said. “What happened?”

  “I forgot to watch my back,” Mara said, preoccupied with examining Revathi’s head wound. The gash had stopped bleeding, but it was still raw and red, and the blood had dried into her hair. “Have you let anyone look at this?”

  Revathi shook her head.

  Mara huffed out a breath. “Don’t move,” she said. Carefully, she slid her feet onto the floor and stood up. Her shoulder complained at the movement, sending a jolt of pain through her. Mara ignored it. Pain no longer meant danger. She was safe, and she would heal. She found the room’s washbasin and dipped a towel into the water.

  “How long has this been going on?” she asked.

  Revathi didn’t ask what she meant. “A while.” She looked down at her hands. “That was only the second time he actually hit me.”

  “So it’s getting worse,” Mara said, wringing out the towel. She came back to the bed. “Does your grandmother know?”

  “Ancestors, no,” Revathi said, and shuddered. “She’d probably geld Tamas if she ever found out. That or hire the Black Lotus to make him disappear.”

  “The assassins?” Mara said. “I thought they were just a story.”

  “Oh they’re real, all right,” Revathi said. “Mostly they work for the Emperor, but they can be . . . persuaded to take an outside job now and again. I don’t know any of them personally, but I’m pretty sure Grandmother does.” She winced as Mara dabbed the wet cloth on her scalp. “That stings.”

  “So why not tell her?” Mara asked. She began to clean the dirt and crusted blood from the gash. It started bleeding again, and Revathi grimaced.

  “It’s complicated.”

  Mara folded the cloth into a compress, placing it on Revathi’s head. “Hold this.”

  Revathi obeyed. Mara sat back and put her hands in her lap, waiting.

  “When I was younger,” Revathi said at last, “I fell in love. With someone I shouldn’t have. Someone I would never have been allowed to marry. We tried to run away, but . . .” She swallowed.

  “One of my friends suspected I was seeing someone and spied on me. She told my parents, and they caught me sneaking out of the city. It was this huge scandal. Mother and Father tried to hush it up, but my friend, she told everyone. If my family wasn’t related to the Emperor, we might have been completely ruined.” Revathi took the cloth from her head.

  “Since then no one has come forward with an offer of marriage for me. No one except Lord u’Gra.”

  Mara took the towel from Revathi and went to the basin to rinse it. She also picked up a comb that was lying nearby.

  “Do you have to get married?”

  “I’m afraid so,” Revathi said as Mara came back. “My family is very high socially, but we don’t have a lot of money. There was some flooding in our farmlands and a couple of bad cold seasons, and our revenue just sort of . . . dried up.” She looked up. “That’s actually what my father and brother are doing this summer. Visiting our holdings, trying to figure out what can be salvaged, or if we need to sell some property. Some of the land in question is my mother’s; it was part of her dowry. That’s why she went with them. We’re all making sacrifices.”

  “And marrying Tamas is yours.” Mara took the comb and started to clean the dried blood flakes from Revathi’s hair.

  “Yes,” Revathi said. “My grandmother might talk about breaking the betrothal, but the truth is, we need this alliance. Lord u’Gra is one of the richest men in the city, and he wants to be related to Emperor Saro very badly, badly enough to overlook the scandal and the fact that my dowry is smaller than it should be. He’s even promised to clear some of my family’s debts.”

  “I wish you had told me,” Mara said, keeping her fingers gentle.

  “I know,” Revathi said. “I’m sorry. But there wasn’t anything you could have done.”

  She slid off the bed and onto the floor. “Sometimes I wonder if that’s why Tamas is so angry,” she said. “Because he knows I’m only marrying him for his money. I like him, but . . .”

  “But your heart is somewhere else,” Mara said.

  Revathi smiled, sad and distant. “Always.”

  Mara carefully joined her on the floor, settling her back against the bed.

  “You know he won’t stop, right?”

  “I know.” Revathi leaned her head on Mara’s good shoulder. “I’m sorry I got you stabbed.”

  “That wasn’t your fault,” Mara said. “That was all Aari.”

  “Garen went looking for her,” Revathi said. “But no one can find her.”

  Mara inhaled, deep and slow, feeling her shoulder ache. “I’ll find her,” she said. “But not tonight.”

  There was a moment of silence; then Revathi spoke again, her voice hesitant.

  “Mara? Why don’t you want to change back into tiger form? You don’t have to tell me,” she added swiftly as Mara stiffened. “It’s just . . .” Her fingers twisted in her lap. “I’ve always wanted to be dangerous, you know? At least a little. Like my grandmother, or one of the Jade warriors. If I could turn into something like you, something strong and wild and free . . . I don’t think I’d ever change back.”

  Mara forced her muscles to relax. Revathi didn’t know, couldn’t know, what she was asking. She didn’t understand.

  But maybe she could. Maybe it was time to tell someone. And if Mara could tell Revathi . . . maybe someday she could bring herself to tell Emil as well. If she ever saw him again.

  “It’s not a nice story,” Mara warned.

  “It’s the Empire,” Revathi said, shrugging. “I’m not sure there are any nice stories.”

  Mara had to smile. Then she closed her eyes, gathering her courage. If she was going to tell this story, she would tell all of it, every shameful bit.

  “You w
ere right about one thing,” she began. “My Tribe doesn’t care for human form. We only changed to speak to humans, and there weren’t many people in the Whispering Forest, where we lived. We were used to being left alone, and we got careless. One day”—she swallowed—“one day a party of strangers came into our woods. Tiger hunters. They found my family sleeping, my father and mother and two brothers. I was off somewhere, stalking a bird.”

  Mara stared out the window at the garden. “The hunters were smart as well as lucky. They had brought poisoned arrows with them and shot my family while they lay sleeping. My family tried to fight back, but the poison was powerful, and they were too weak. The hunters cut their throats and skinned them. I heard their cries, but I couldn’t run fast enough.”

  “So you killed the hunters?”

  “I ran at them,” Mara corrected. “I thought maybe I could scare them away. But one of them . . . he stabbed me with his sword.” Her fingers crept to the thick scar in her side, the past carved into her skin.

  “He stabbed me, and everything went red. I’ve never felt such rage in my life. I killed the first hunter, and it felt good. I was glad that he was dead and I was glad I had killed him, but I was still hurting. I had blood in my mouth and a wound in my side and the bodies of my family around me. And the rage, it didn’t go away. It just got worse.” Mara took a deep breath. “I tracked them, Revathi. The rest of the hunters. I tracked them down and I ripped them all apart.”

  “That’s . . . understandable,” Revathi said.

  “Understandable doesn’t make it right,” Mara said. “And that wasn’t the worst part.” The words stuck in her throat like thorns. “One of the men I was tracking sought shelter with another party of hunters from another village, out hunting for deer and rabbits to feed their families. These hunters tried to protect him. But I . . . I killed all of them.”

  Tears burned in her eyes, and she blinked them away. “I killed them all,” she repeated. “They didn’t understand what was going on. I’m not even sure they knew I was Sune, and I was so full of rage and pain that I didn’t care. So they fought, and instead of trying to change and explain, or telling my Tribe’s Elders and trying to get justice that way, I just . . . killed them.”