Shadow and Thorn

by Kenley Davidson

  “Athven has been looking for something for some time,” Zara noted. “She has not been willing to tell me what it is, and even with my help she has not been able to find it. She says she can feel it, but cannot reach it. I don’t know what that means, but I can’t imagine we’ll be able to do better. It must be out of her reach somehow. How sure are you that it is still in the castle?”

  “As sure as I can be,” Alexei insisted. “My… the Betrayer told us he hid it here. He was bragging of his cleverness at the time, and, considering my memories of those days, I believed him. It would have amused him to hide it under our noses and laugh as he waited for our destruction.”

  “All right.” Zara placed her elbows on the table and rested her chin on her hands. “All we have to do is think like a sadistic bastard and make a list of all the places such a person might think to hide something valuable. Alexei? Clearly you’re the one who should advise us how to move forward.”

  Her blue eyes challenged him to make what he would of her words. Even Wilder stopped breathing to look at him. Waiting to see what he would do.

  He could choose to be angry at the insinuation. Or he could remember that she was hurting and faced with an exile that would never end. Could he offer acceptance without her misunderstanding him? “Yes, of course.” He smiled faintly. “Isn’t it lucky that I’m here to help?”

  “Well, I know I feel like the luckiest girl alive,” Zara said, with more than a hint of bitterness. “Who wouldn’t want to be me right now?”

  “Who indeed,” Alexei whispered, and hoped that no one could hear him.

  They split up to search. Silvay went with Wilder, Gulver with Malichai, and Alexei insisted that Zara stay with him. She protested that Athven didn’t talk to her directly, and anyway, the cat hadn’t been seen all day, but he wanted her near, just in case Athven decided she had something to say. If she did, he certainly had something to say back to her.

  Being alone with Zara did not particularly trouble him, though it was undeniably awkward, and he could see how she might feel nervous about the situation. Or even frightened. For the second time since their arrival, he thought of his damaged face, but this time he wondered if it upset her. He doubted it. Very little seemed to upset her, but he couldn’t quite suppress the desire to know. Though he would die before he asked.

  “Where did you and Athven search?” He kept his tone vaguely polite as they stood together in the entry hall, listening to the footsteps of the others fade into the distance.

  “Where did we not?” she answered tartly. “I don’t know enough of this castle to tell you, but I assume Athven is self-aware enough to know when we’d been everywhere.”

  “Then where did she seem to feel the Rose most strongly? Or did she say?”

  “Come on then,” Zara turned on her heel and led him towards the back stairs. “I’ll show you, not that it will do any good.”

  She led him north, to a lower level, where a long, narrow room butted up against the pantries on one end, and the north tower on the other. “We spent quite some time here, and also in the outer passage along the wall on the main level. Of course”—she shot him a grimace—“it didn’t look like this then.”

  Along the length of what had probably been a bare room the first time she saw it were strewn tables of various sizes and heights. Some had chairs or stools placed in their orbit, but others had none. Carpets covered parts of the floor, and the walls were haphazardly bedecked with diagrams and paintings of complex designs.

  “No,” Alexei told her softly, “but it looked like this when I was here last.”

  It was the workroom, or so they called it. The place where the gifted would come to dream, plan, discuss and design. So many ideas had been born there. Bad ones, as well as good. Alexei almost laughed aloud when he saw a particularly unusual drawing hanging from the wall. One of his fellow enchanters had dreamed of a flying machine, and even designed a frame for it, but he’d never been able to convince any of his fellows to jump off one of the towers with the contraption strapped to their shoulders. Even magic had its limits.

  He saw Zara watching him, her shoulders tense. “This is one of the spaces where we used to work,” he explained. “Anyone who lived here could come and discuss their magic with others. We would consult with those who shared our gifts, or plan together how we might combine different gifts to accomplish something new.”

  “Then that burn mark on the wall could have happened before the invasion?” she asked, unable to mask the sarcasm in the question.

  “Yes, actually.” Alexei was so deep in memories, he actually smiled. “One of my cousins was experimenting with hearthstones.” He glanced at Zara, who was clearly confused. “They are enchanted to give heat and light. Most households use them instead of fires. Though”—he shrugged—“we still build fireplaces to put them in.”

  “Then why aren’t there any here?”

  “There are. But their enchantment would have run dry. Now that so much is being restored, perhaps I can find a few unused stones and we will not be forced to breathe smoke any longer.”

  He was silent, remembering, when Zara interrupted his thoughts.

  “You say that so casually! Like it is nothing to make a rock that can take the place of a fire.”

  He regarded her thoughtfully. Perhaps even living in an enchanted castle had not quite prepared her for the reality of Erath as it had been. “It was a small thing, once. One of the first tasks enchanters learn to do as children.”

  “What else did you learn to do?”

  She was trying to sound nonchalant, but her question was not without bite. He remembered Gulver saying that Zara was afraid of him. Was he making it worse, admitting to what he could do? Or would it help to know the full extent of the truth?

  He pulled out two of the chairs and sat, beckoning for her to do the same. She did, but gingerly, as though she expected the chair to fall out from under her.

  “It won’t collapse, you know.”

  She ducked her head and leaned her elbows on her knees.

  “Though that’s another thing that probably happened many times in this very room. We might have been powerful, but that did not make us any less fond of pranks.”

  “Like collapsing chairs?”

  “Yes.” He grinned. “And rain showers indoors, and candles that flickered constantly, and silencing one’s footsteps to make sneaking simpler. Among other, much more devious notions.”

  “How old were you?” She immediately looked as though she wished she hadn’t asked.

  “I was sixteen when Erath fell. Old enough to have spent a good ten years developing my gift.”

  “That seems young. Do Erathi make their children work instead of play?”

  Alexei’s lips twisted, pulling at the scar on his cheek. “Even at six, learning my gift was better than play. Though I certainly did enough of that early on. Growing up with forty-seven cousins is a boisterous affair, and even in a place as big as this, you soon learn you cannot escape entirely. You either learn to live with them or they trample you.”

  He could feel Zara’s eyes on him, but he didn’t want to see what was in them. Envy or pity would be equally unbearable at that moment.

  “He was one of your cousins, wasn’t he? Porfiry?”

  How in all the hells could she have known? “Yes.”

  “Do you know what happened? Why he betrayed you?”

  Did he want to tell her? He barely understood it himself. “Porfiry was born either ungifted, or with a slight enough gift that it was never fully identified. It is rare, among our people, but it does happen. We Erathi are not without our weaknesses, and in some families, the child is shunned or rejected.”

  “But Porfiry lived here. With you and forty-six other cousins.”

  “His parents sent him here, alone. Many of us lived at Athven with our families. My own parents travelled the kingdom so much, I rarely saw them, but they visited when they were able.” His lips twisted with the memory. They had lov
ed him, he knew, but he had spent so little time with them, he rarely even missed them.

  “Porfiry’s family sent him away. It seemed unfair that they rejected him for what he could not help, but we children always considered him one of us. We included him as best we could, but most of us had lessons, and he did not. We had plans for the future, dreams of what we would do one day. Porfiry, I believe, was left aimless and it ate at his soul.”

  “Did no one try to give him a task?” This time he heard the compassion in her voice and it stung him.

  “It was attempted, on many occasions, and therein lies his complaint—that he was driven to do that which he could not, and then rejected again when he failed.”

  “So this was his revenge. What he could not possess, he destroyed.”

  “Or so he would have us believe. I do not claim to know his mind, cousin or no.”

  Zara was silent, and all they could hear for a few moments was the sound of their own breath and the whisper of a light wind brushing along the stones outside the wall.

  “Being cast aside by a parent is not a small wound.” Zara’s gaze rested on the floor and her words were soft. “That is a great deal of pain for one person to bear.”

  “Pain he willfully inflicted on thousands of others,” Alexei reminded her coldly, rising to his feet. “Instead of learning from their actions, he chose to hate.”

  “If you’ve never known what love looks like, what choice do you have?” Zara’s voice was low and compelling and Alexei couldn’t bring himself to listen. She knew nothing. She had never met Porfiry; had never heard the poison that dripped from his tongue or seen the hatred lurking in his eyes.

  “Enough. We are wasting time.”

  He stalked away to look more closely at the walls, but he felt Zara’s eyes on his back and, for the first time, knew a twinge of guilt over his treatment of her. She was more than he had given her credit for, and, for a moment, he had almost enjoyed her company. It was Porfiry who deserved his ire, so why did he continue to lash out at Zara, when he knew he needed her help?

  But why would she defend the Betrayer? Unless she felt some connection with his story… But that was not something Alexei was willing to contemplate. He might have made his peace with Zara’s situation, but he refused to listen to her make excuses for the man who had been responsible for so much death and destruction. There was too much to be done. Too many lives hung in the balance, and if Alexei could not manage to feel pain on behalf of his people, how could he feel compassion for the one who betrayed them?

  In truth, he wasn’t even sure he was capable of compassion anymore. Not for Zara, and certainly not for Porfiry. If that was what Athven wanted from him, she might find herself waiting for another thirty years.

  Chapter 8

  Zara stared at her companion’s back and wished it would burst into flame. After all, he’d said she had magic. If Erathi children had managed to set things on fire, why not her? To her disappointment, even the most concentrated glare she could muster produced nothing—not even a wisp of smoke.

  Alexei might not have been the first man she’d wished would burst into flame, but he was certainly the most annoying. And the most confusing. One moment he exuded patience, calm, and steadfast purpose. The next he was angry and dismissive.

  She was willing to allow that she had gotten far more than she expected out of her questions. He had actually answered one. And for a brief time, she thought they had almost established a tentative… well, not friendship. Perhaps respect? Probably not that either. He had made it perfectly clear that he could never respect a thief. But at least they had seemed on the verge of not being enemies.

  But then she had made the mistake of admitting to some sort of empathy for the rejected Porfiry and all that ground had been lost. She’d been trailing him around the lower floors of the castle ever since, responding to his terse questions with one-word answers, hoping someone else would show up to dispel the tension.

  Of course, they didn’t. Privately, she resolved to turn Shadow into a cat-skin vest the next time she saw her.

  As if on cue, the shabby gray cat meandered around a corner ahead of them.

  “You,” Zara spat, eyes narrowed, “are a liar. You’d better have something intelligent to say for yourself. Or be here to help us. Otherwise, I might borrow one of Silvay’s knives and find something decorative to do with your hide.”

  “Do you really want her to bring the roof down on our heads?” Alexei asked, sounding exasperated.

  “Don’t let her fool you,” Zara answered shortly. “She’s not going to jeopardize her existence by actually harming us, or herself. She’s just trying to intimidate us into doing what she wants, with no regard for whether it’s in our best interests.”

  “Whether or not I understand or agree with her methods, Athven’s motives have always been above reproach. She cannot help but have the well-being of Erath at heart,” Alexei insisted.

  “That’s what scares me,” Zara shot back. “She might care for her kingdom, but she sees us puny individual mortals as means to that end. The only way to be sure she will preserve us is to make ourselves indispensable to her future.”

  “I disagree.” Alexei folded his arms firmly. “Athven has never shown anything less than concern for the well-being of her people. She has guarded us well for centuries. Perhaps you simply don’t understand what she hopes to accomplish.”

  “She hopes to make us do her royal bidding!”

  “Well, whatever the case, you have nothing to fear, as you are already indispensable to her future,” Alexei retorted. “Though perhaps you think the rest of us ought to be trembling in fear.”

  “Oh, yes, you should be trembling before the power of my ability to persuade her to do absolutely nothing!”

  “You know, I’m beginning to think Gulver was mistaken,” Alexei observed.

  “About what?” she snapped, wondering at the abrupt change of subject.

  “He said you were afraid of me. I believe he may have been hallucinating.”

  Zara stared at him, open-mouthed. Gulver had said that? When had she let him see her fear? “Of course I’m not afraid of you.” She said the words almost automatically.

  “Because I can understand if you are. My face is not exactly reassuring.”

  “I’m not afraid of your scars,” she replied, before she could think better of it.

  “You’re not?” He turned to look at her, almost curiously.

  “What makes you think anyone would care about your face?” She didn’t even attempt to hid her scorn. “Contrary to your expectations, it just isn’t that interesting.”

  He seemed to absorb that information slowly. “Then what are you afraid of?”

  “I didn’t say I was.”

  “Then you’re saying Gulver was wrong?”

  Zara turned away before he could see an answer on her face. “Don’t you have anything more important to think about right now?” She wasn’t afraid of the way he looked, but she’d be damned before she told him what she truly feared.

  The cat strolled between them, lay down on the stones and began to look from Zara to Alexei, then back again. When neither of them responded, she sat up and began to wash herself.

  Zara drew herself up and glared. “Well, I won’t do it, so you can just stop.” She had no idea how she knew what the cat wanted, but she did. Their bond must be getting stronger.

  “Won’t do what?”

  Zara clamped her lips shut.

  “Zara, what does Athven want you to do?”

  She looked up at him, eyes wide and mouth slightly open. It was the first time he’d spoken her name. And, wonder of wonders, it had not sounded like a curse. But that didn’t mean she was going to meekly do as she was told.

  “Well, I’m not going to do it and I’m not going to tell you, so what does it matter?”

  “Athven may be trying to help us. It may not make any sense to you right now, but perhaps it’s for the best. Tell me what she wants.�
�

  “She still wants you to marry me, you imbecile!” Zara yelled. “Were you not listening when I made it clear that it wasn’t my idea? I don’t even like you! But she thinks it’s brilliant! She’s made of rocks! She doesn’t understand that humans have hearts and are not toys for her amusement. Or that it’s possible for us to die of humiliation!”

  She turned on her heel and started to walk away, seething with anger, unsure whether it was more at him for forcing her to say it, or at her own mouth for not staying decently shut. Or at Athven. For being dastardly and manipulative.

  “Wait.”

  Zara didn’t want to wait. She didn’t want his anger, his pity, or his rejection. But she could only run so far, and he’d probably just send Gulver to find her again, so she stopped, though she couldn’t look him in the eye.

  “Yes, initially I did think it was your idea. But you explained that and I understood that you were misled. I am sorry, I should have realized that Athven might not be so easily convinced.”

  Had he… Was that an apology? Zara wasn’t quite ready to trust it.

  “She is anxious,” Alexei continued calmly, as though speaking of the weather, “and is trying to establish some sort of security. She may be attempting to persuade us to see things her way, but I believe we can find another solution that will satisfy her. She would not force either of us to do something against our will.”

  Zara looked back over her shoulder in spite of herself. Alexei appeared both serious and earnest, and he didn’t seem to be mocking her. He might be rejecting her, but it wasn’t as if she wanted him to accept her proposal now that she knew the consequences. He had even apologized. And at least he wasn’t calling her names this time.

  Shadow was sitting up and looking at Alexei, her tail lashing impatiently.

  “I think,” Zara said, a tiny smile tugging at the corner of her mouth, “that you’ve annoyed her.”

  “Then I hope you’re right.”

  “About what?”

  “That she is wise enough not to destroy us in a fit of pique.”

  “She isn’t going to stop,” Zara warned him. “For whatever reason, she still believes that a wedding would solve all of her problems.”