Shadow and Thorn

by Kenley Davidson

  “No.” Alexei’s tone was harsh, but it didn’t frighten her. “She won’t.”

  “How do you know?” Zara was pleading now, but she didn’t care. The thought terrified her.

  “Because.” He turned his gaze and Zara’s followed. Shadow had entered silently and was sitting on the table watching them. “If she does, I will not be a part of it. And if she hurts you in any way again, I will not rest until we find a way to escape. Together.”

  The cat’s tail twitched but she would not meet their eyes.

  “We will find a place close enough that the bond will survive, but it will not flourish. It is a weak bond already, so that will not be difficult.”

  Shadow turned her head to look at the far wall.

  “She will not die, but will simply exist forever, unable to speak or see or grow.” Alexei focused so intently on the cat that he seemed about to bore holes through Shadow’s furry gray body. “And if she kills you, I will walk away. I am too strong for her to bond against my will, and if she tries, I will leave Erath and give up the better part of my magic forever rather than allow her to use me. Even if it means my death.”

  His expression grew so fierce that his good eye almost seemed to glow. “When you subvert another’s will for your purposes, it is not a bond, not a partnership. It is slavery. I know that you were unaware of what you were doing when you bonded Zara, that it was not a conscious choice, but I will not stand by while you continue down that road. You would be committing the same atrocities that destroyed our people, and it would be better for us to go on without you. Better to vanish entirely than to become the thing we hate.”

  The cat jumped down from the table. She strolled over to the fire, not looking at either of them, and sat, gazing into the flames in silence. Zara shared a brief glance with Alexei, but they both waited without speaking.

  When Athven looked up, it was a brief glance at Zara. She stretched, walked over and rubbed briefly against Zara’s knees before trotting out of the room.

  “And that,” Alexei said with a minute twitch of his lips, “may be the closest thing you’re going to get to an apology.”

  “I think she’s peeved with you,” Zara observed.

  “I hope so. And I hope she realizes that I am serious.”

  “Thank you.” He had more or less just threatened to kill himself in order to save her. Zara wasn’t sure if that was idiotic or almost romantic. But no one had ever volunteered to suffer so much as a paper cut on her behalf, so the feeling was a bit overwhelming. “I wouldn’t want you to actually do any of those things you threatened, but the fact that you offered…”

  “We are not enemies, Zara.”

  “Not anymore, you mean.”

  Alexei grew still and met her eyes somberly. “I have not given you much reason to believe me, I know. I am sorry. If you feel that you cannot forgive my prejudice, I will understand.”

  “No,” Zara said hesitantly. He had risked his life to save hers, so how could she not forgive him? “It’s not that. But if you are not my enemy then what do I call you? You can’t exactly introduce someone by saying, ‘By the way, this is Alexei, and he is not my enemy.’”

  He raised a quizzical brow, but the tiniest beginnings of a smile lifted the unscarred side of his mouth. “You would prefer something else?”

  “Well, I’m sure friends is still out. After all, you’ve only not hated me since yesterday.”

  “Allies?”

  Zara made a face. “I suppose that’s the best we can hope for at present. But perhaps eventually we can do better. Maybe tomorrow we can reconsider friendship.”

  “You never know.”

  “By the day after that, you may even begin reconsidering whether you want to marry me.”

  “Is this your third proposal?”

  “Why stop now?”

  Alexei left the kitchen feeling a heavier than usual weight on his shoulders. He had been counting on Athven as an ally, and now he no longer believed she could be trusted. In an ironic twist of fate, he felt more certain of Zara, the usurping treasure hunter, than he did of his own home.

  Ahead he spotted the swiftly moving shape of Silvay. She was aiming straight for him and did not look happy.

  “Did you See something?”

  “Yes,” she told him, “but not with my gift. I haven’t had a chance to tell you, what with making sure Zara was all right.”

  “While you were out searching?”

  “On the far side of the valley, just before I was about to turn back, I sensed them.” She drew her cloak closer, as if to ward off the chill of what she was about to say.

  “Porfiry and Rowan?” It was hardly a shock. Alexei had known they wouldn’t go far. He was a little surprised they’d held back this long.

  “It wasn’t one man,” Silvay replied, “or even two. It was more like two hundred.”

  “Are you certain? And they’re in the valley?” Alexei didn’t know what to think of the news. “Perhaps it’s a large group of mercenaries passing through.”

  “No,” Silvay said quietly.

  “You’ve Seen it?”

  “I spied on them,” she replied dryly. “I do not rely on my gift for everything, and neither should you.”

  “My apologies,” Alexei replied. “I did not mean to imply that you were incapable.”

  “Yes, I have great hopes for your intelligence.” Silvay’s smile was weary. “But you’ll need more than intelligence to get out of this, I’m afraid. They are not simple mercenaries. They are an orderly unit, and frighteningly efficient. Their gear might not be the best, but they are working together in a way that felt almost eerie.”

  “Did you get any sense of their goals or destination?”

  “I didn’t need to,” Silvay told him hollowly. “I could feel it. Feel him.”

  “Porfiry?”

  “He was somewhere in the middle of their camp, along with your Andari prince if I read his signature aright.”

  “And no one saw you?”

  “I am more than capable of being difficult to see,” she told him sharply. “And if I had been seen I would not have waited until now to tell you. Credit me with some discernment.”

  “I do, Silvay. I can assure you I do not doubt your discernment, or your courage, or your skills. What I doubt…” Alexei rubbed his face with one hand and grimaced. “I doubt my ability to deal with this entire situation. It is no longer just about Erath, or the future of our people. This could be about the future of kingdoms. And I—we—are ill-equipped to face the problems we already have.”

  “What,” asked Silvay slowly, “if we could use the one to solve the other?”

  “I won’t ask if it’s something you’ve Seen,” Alexei responded, “but if you believe you have a workable solution, by all means tell me.”

  “How long can Athven hold them off?” she asked instead.

  “I don’t know. Not without consulting her. Once, she had many means of defense at her disposal. Now, she is clearly able to hold the doors, but I cannot guess whether she could withstand a determined assault. They may be able to break her, with enough force, or they may number gardeners among them, who could undermine her walls.”

  “But if they have no one with magic?”

  “I cannot imagine Porfiry will do them much good, and Prince Rowan’s gifts lie in other directions. Persuasion, and the like. I have not seen their equivalent amongst our own people. I assume if none of the mercenaries have a talent for magic, they will be forced to attack with brute strength, and that I believe Athven can withstand for some time.”

  “Unless they break her walls.”

  “Yes. And I do not know how difficult that might be.”

  “So they will be forced to resort to a protracted siege,” Silvay continued, tapping her teeth with one fingernail.

  “Unless they can gain the Rose without entering the castle.”

  “But if they could do that, why have they not already? Why lurk on the edge of the valley with an
army if you don’t need it?”

  “Who knows why Prince Rowan does anything?” Alexei responded wearily. “But you can be sure he has his reasons. He is not infallible, but at times he certainly seems like it.”

  “But we have an advantage. Even if Porfiry has told him of Athven, he cannot be fully prepared for what she can do. If the Betrayer told the truth, and we could tear the castle apart without finding where he hid the Rose, we need him to find it. What if we let him do so?”

  “Just let them in and let them have it?” Alexei’s brow furrowed with concern. “How would that help us?”

  “Let them think the castle is deserted. Let them believe they have the field. And after they have found the Rose, we take it, and Athven throws them out.”

  “And then we have a protracted siege?” Alexei asked wryly.

  “Well, yes,” Silvay acknowledged with a sigh. “But it seems better to have a siege and the Rose than to have nothing but the siege.”

  “True enough. But what if Athven cannot throw them out? If they have the Rose, she may not be able to act against them at all.”

  “I believe it’s worth the risk,” Silvay argued. “We are surviving because Athven was able to keep enough of herself in stasis to sustain us. Eventually, her stores will run out, and we cannot count on any outside help.”

  “You have Seen him, haven’t you?” Alexei posed it as a question, but one he knew she would not answer. Perhaps she’d had a vision of Rowan standing on the walls of Athven, and perhaps she hadn’t. But her plan made a twisted sort of sense and there was no avoiding the fact that an army, even one of only two hundred men, was more than they or Athven could handle at that moment.

  “We’ll ask the others,” he told Silvay. “Malichai may have some thoughts, and as this affects Zara most nearly, we must secure her agreement before moving forward.”

  Silvay looked at him keenly. “You have changed, and recently. What happened out there?”

  “How have I changed?” Alexei countered.

  She made a snorting noise. “Zara. From hoping wolves would eat her to deferring to her opinion.”

  “I don’t think I would have let wolves eat her. At least”—he grinned in spite of himself—“not more than a few fingers or toes.”

  “Don’t avoid the question.”

  Alexei sobered. “I’m avoiding it because I don’t know how to answer it. I have accepted that this is not her fault. That we cannot change it, and… perhaps that she is more to be pitied than any of us.”

  “She wouldn’t care to hear that you pity her.”

  “No,” he acknowledged. “She would not. And perhaps pity is the wrong word. But what I feel is more like compassion now than outrage. She has more in common with our people than I realized. She is chained in a foreign land with no hope of escape. Whatever life she is to have from here will not be an easy thing to bear, and it costs me nothing but my own bitterness to smooth her path as I can.”

  “That’s not a cost many are willing to pay,” Silvay noted. “And you gain no one’s admiration for the sacrifice.”

  “Perhaps not.” He shrugged. “But I gain the ability to look at myself without revulsion. I have seen what my cousin’s bitterness has made of him and I have no desire to emulate his example.”

  Silvay’s smile was at once serene and mysterious. “Then we should go and find the others. If Zara is feeling well enough, it is not too early to plan.”

  As Silvay went one direction in search of their companions, Alexei took another, wondering if he had made a mistake agreeing to potentially permit their enemies into the heart of Athven. He had seen Rowan defeated once, but at terrible cost. His own brush with death only a year before had been at the hands of the former prince, who had denied him care for his wounds in order to force Alexei’s friends’ compliance.

  Fingering his scars, Alexei tried to shove the memories away. He had been a fool then, too—rushing to grasp his chance for vengeance instead of waiting and planning. Porfiry had injured him, but it had been Rowan who had used that to his advantage. Or tried to.

  What he had told his companions then was still true: he would rather sacrifice his life than see Rowan on the throne of anything. The man was a beautiful, amoral monster. And now, Alexei might be facing another test of his resolve. What would he be willing to sacrifice this time? Was there anything more to fear once he was willing to give his life?

  Too deep in his memories to watch where he was going, Alexei tripped over a small, gray obstacle, which glared at him in green-eyed offense.

  “You’re lucky I didn’t land on you,” he muttered, still angry over Athven’s treatment of Zara. “We’re planning a council of war, if you care to join it. Though until you deign to speak with us, I’m not sure what difference it makes.”

  And then, as before, Alexei fell headlong into the cat’s green eyes until he found himself somewhere quite different.

  The receiving room. It looked like a cozy sitting room or parlor, but the chair his aunt used to receive visitors could not be mistaken for anything but a throne. Athven sat in it now, scowling at him.

  Looking down at himself, Alexei almost chuckled at the appearance of elaborate court clothes. His embroidered, calf-length robes were belted with gold and sapphires, and his boots had golden buckles. There was even a ring on his finger… Alexei ripped it off and threw it into the farthest corner of the room. His cousin’s ring of office. The cat had nerve.

  “You wanted to speak to me. Here I am.”

  Alexei matched her stare for stare. Once he would have quailed at the idea of showing such disrespect, either to the queen or to Athven herself, but his experience in the forest had tainted his admiration a trifle.

  “Did you bring me here because I asked or because you wanted to prove something?”

  “I am Athven Nar. I have nothing to prove.” The woman looked far sulkier than Beatra Nar had ever looked in her life.

  “Then why did you meddle in Zara’s head? Why try to force us to bow to your caprice?”

  “It is not caprice!” she hissed. “I have lived far beyond your meager human lifespans and I know what is needed. I require more power. The future must be secured or I could die.”

  For the first time, Alexei heard her disdain for what it really was. Fear. He had been right about one thing: Athven had changed. She had learned to fear, an entirely human emotion that had probably rocked her to her foundations. And in her fear and her aloneness, she had forgotten her purpose. Instead of being the thorns to Erath’s rose, she had turned inward and chosen to protect herself at all costs.

  Just as he had. Twenty years in Andar, pretending to be nothing more than a horseman. At least he’d had his brother. Athven had no one.

  “You are not alone now,” he insisted. “And your ploy to bring us together could have killed Zara, and then where would you be?”

  “I would not have allowed her to die,” Athven insisted. “I knew you could save her. It was only an artenu.”

  “An artenu that burned her badly,” Alexei snapped. “Perhaps you have forgotten how fragile our mortal bodies can be. Zara had no defense against that creature. If I had been only a second slower, she could be dead. If you are truly so concerned with your future, perhaps you should safeguard it more carefully.”

  Athven fell silent. “You have changed,” she finally noted, a small smile appearing on her face. “Perhaps you do not hate my new guardian so much after all?”

  “I am not going to marry her, Athven. You are going to have to trust my finite mortal reasoning when I say that she and I are extremely ill-suited. We are no longer enemies, but your insistence that we bind ourselves as one is misguided and ill-judged.”

  “No one ever asked me who I wanted to be bonded to,” Athven snapped petulantly. “The heirs were always chosen, and then I had to make do with what I was given. Partnership can be as much choice as inclination, unless you are too much of a child to choose another’s well-being over your own.”

  �
��I have not your immortal existence,” Alexei chided. “And neither does Zara. Yes, partnership is a choice, and you would take ours away from us. We cannot simply wait until next time and hope to choose better. You would have us tied to one another until death. That is a choice we deserve to make for ourselves.”

  “Deserve is a strong word, child of Nar. What do you deserve, merely by virtue of being born? Do you deserve your life, when others have been denied it? Do you deserve happiness, when so many others have had theirs ripped away? Do you deserve freedom, when your people have none?”

  “No,” Alexei whispered, as her words pierced him like nails. “I do not reserve the right to complain. I only desire to protect my people.”

  “And by marrying the woman bonded to me, you would be better able to do that,” Athven argued. “If you do not deserve happiness, then why does it matter whom you marry?”

  “Because Zara deserves better than that,” he growled. “I refuse to tie her forever to a land, a people, and a man she cannot love simply because you bonded with her against her will.”

  “Must I tell you again that it was not by choice? Would you rather I have died?”

  He could not answer her.

  “But if it is free will that you most desire, what if Zara chooses?” the woman continued, her gaze sharp and predatory. “If she was to choose to add another to our bond willingly, outside of my compulsion, would you still find it necessary to object?”

  Alexei clasped his hands behind his back so she would not see them shaking. How had their conversation even come to this? Athven had trapped him neatly with his own words and he could not deny her point. For many in the world, and especially for those who ruled, who they married was not theirs to decide. Their only choice was whether they would live in harmony or discord.

  “No,” he answered, sighing deeply. “But she must know the whole truth of what it would be like. What she would be giving up. She already knows about the marriage bond, and I could never lie to her and claim that I love her. She must know that it would be a partnership and not a true marriage, and what woman would be willing to abandon all hope of love for a platonic partnership that can only be dissolved in death?”