Shadow and Thorn

by Kenley Davidson

  Malichai burst into happy tears. “I hope you’ll forgive me, Miss Zara, for dropping you. I swore you’d come to no harm, but yon bastard attacked me and I couldn’t keep hold.”

  What bastard? Zara followed the motion of his arm and saw the supine body of Rowan, limp and bound, lying a few paces away.

  She shot a glance at Athven.

  “He did not have permission to hurt you,” Athven said sternly. “He will learn.”

  Zara thought about that. “Wait, if I’m not dead, and not dreaming, how are you…”

  Athven smiled, the first genuinely happy smile Zara had ever seen on her. “I have been given a gift, by Nar himself, and by his descendent—the ability to remain embodied as I choose, without draining myself of power. I am looking forward to learning how to live as humans do.”

  “At least until she has to use the privy in the middle of winter,” Malichai muttered under his breath.

  Everyone laughed, breaking the tension that had gripped the room since Zara opened her eyes. Everyone except Athven, who looked puzzled by the sound.

  “Perhaps,” Silvay suggested, “we might move to the kitchens. Malichai could prepare us something to eat while we discuss the future?”

  A chorus of agreement went up and there was a general movement in that direction. Malichai paused to sling Rowan over his shoulder, then strode off whistling cheerfully.

  In a matter of moments, the entry hall was empty but for Zara and Alexei, and, considering the looks on her friends’ faces as they left, Zara suspected it was by design.

  “All right,” she said, resting her elbows on her knees and raising an eyebrow suspiciously. “What’s the bad news they left you here to tell me?”

  He did not meet her eyes. “Do you think you could walk?”

  She groaned, but accepted his hand and rose ungracefully from the floor. “Where are we going?”

  “The tower.”

  “So it’s to be death by stairs?”

  Alexei let go her hand. “We could try my workshop instead.”

  Zara was curious about the place where he worked his magic, but the tower still felt like the safest part of the castle. “I’ll manage,” she said. “Lead on.”

  Curiously, she felt more energetic than usual, and was not in the least bit tired when they reached the room at the top. “Apparently being unconscious is healthy for me,” she noted. “I feel amazing. Lighter, even.”

  Alexei still would not look at her, even to comment on her recovery, and Zara knew the news must be even worse than she’d anticipated.

  “You might as well just tell me. I know no one else has died, because I saw everyone downstairs. Did Porfiry get away? Is that it?”

  “No.” Alexei’s expression grew haunted. “He certainly did not. Athven… took care of him.”

  “How?”

  “Trust me”—Alexei actually shuddered—“you’re better off not knowing.”

  “So if that isn’t it, what are you so terrified of me finding out? You’ve looked ill ever since I woke up.”

  “Zara,” he began hesitantly, “Athven didn’t lie to you. When Porfiry put that silver chain around your neck, it cut off your magic. Your bond to Athven was broken.”

  “But she was already bonded to Rowan, so she survived,” Zara said, then snapped her mouth shut and flushed as she realized what she’d admitted to.

  “I know what you did,” Alexei told her. “I even know why. But that’s not what we need to talk about.”

  “It’s not?” Zara thought he seemed to be taking it rather calmly. “I surrendered your home into the hands of your greatest enemy. I thought you’d be furious!”

  “Furious that it nearly killed you,” he said with a scowl. “But as I said, I know why you did it. And when you nearly died, Athven finally allowed that perhaps she’d made a mistake. She’s promised to keep Rowan imprisoned here until he no longer cares for conquest.”

  “That could be forever,” Zara pointed out.

  “Forever is likely to be a lot longer for her than for Rowan.”

  “But your castle!” Zara protested. “That means you won’t be able to live here, and you’ll have no way to rebuild Erath.”

  “There is more to rebuilding my land than that,” Alexei reassured her. “So Athven is lost to us. Perhaps it is for the best. In the past, we leaned so heavily on her, and on the protection she provided, that we forgot about the world. You were right, you know. We turned inward, and our ignorance was not to our credit.”

  “So where will you go?” Zara felt a quick pang, that their parting was nearly at hand. Her father had come. She was no longer tied to Athven, or to Erath, and would be free to leave. She should be ecstatic that she would not be compelled to remain, but the thought of departure gave her no pleasure. Not when she knew that he was staying.

  “Zara, when I said Athven didn’t lie, I meant it. She told you if the bond was cut, you would die.”

  “I feel like you’re working your way up to something when you should just state it plainly,” she insisted. “So I died. Am I some sort of horrible undead thing now?”

  “No!” He scrubbed a hand across his forehead. “I… Zara, look inside. I’m too much of a coward to even say it.”

  Perhaps those last few days—working on the Rose without food or sleep—had unhinged him. But there was no harm in humoring him, so Zara shut her eyes and felt for the place where her bond with Athven had been. That dark, heavy coil was gone, as she expected, but its place was not empty. An intricate braid of power rested there instead, winding through the darkest places of her being, glowing with an inner fire and warmth that begged to be embraced. Where the other bond had been strange and unknowable, this one seemed somehow familiar. Zara could see the strands that composed it, strands of glowing bronze and ethereal lavender, mixed with something else that felt, somehow, like music.

  She opened her eyes. “What is it?” she breathed. “It’s beautiful. Did Gulver heal me?”

  “No.” His voice shook. “Zara, it was me. I did it. And I didn’t ask for your permission, which I should have, but there was no time. You were dying, and Athven said it might save your life.”

  “And you think I will be angry with you for saving my life?” Zara asked incredulously. “How could you think I would be so ungrateful?”

  “Because I didn’t just save your life,” Alexei said desperately, meeting her eyes at last. “The bond you lost had to be replaced. Look again.”

  Utterly confused, Zara did as he asked. But this time, she gave in to temptation and reached out with her mind to touch a glowing bronze strand. The moment she did so, a torrent of thoughts and memories hit her, sights and sounds and feelings that were not hers, and yet now they were. An emotion blazed through her, something fierce and wild, unyielding and strong. It did not come from her, but it wrapped itself around her and Zara felt that somehow she’d come home as it settled deeply into her bones. She brushed against it with her mind once more, and then she saw him.

  It wasn’t his face or his form. Zara saw Alexei not as a physical being, but as everything he’d poured into the bond, everything he’d given, everything he’d risked to save her. His determination, his honesty, his self-sacrifice, and his loyalty. She felt his respect and his admiration, and his despair.

  He had saved her, believing she would never forgive him. But Zara knew a thing or two about saving someone she wasn’t sure wanted to be saved.

  She opened her eyes. Alexei stood by the window, head bowed, waiting for her.

  “Marry me?” she asked softly.

  He straightened, the terror on his face melting suddenly into hope. “I’ve been a beast,” he said.

  “Maybe.” She shrugged. “But I love you.”

  “Technically,” he hedged, “I already married you. Without asking.”

  Zara walked towards him, smiling. “Idiot man,” she said fondly. “I already asked you three times. How many times does it take to get you to say yes?”

  Alexei
wrapped his arms around her waist and rested his forehead against hers with a sigh that echoed deeply through them both. “Apparently, this many,” he said, and kissed her at last. His arms were strong and gentle, his lips warm and soft, and Zara knew that no matter where she went, it would always be home as long as he was with her.

  “You still haven’t answered me,” she said, a little breathlessly, as soon as they broke the kiss.

  “Still angling for a yes?” he said into her hair.

  “A girl likes to know her proposal has been accepted,” she muttered. “Can’t go around kissing just anyone.”

  “Before I say it”—Alexei pulled back, took her hand, and turned to face the window—“you should know what you’re getting with me. I’m afraid you may find it a poor bargain.”

  “Oh yes, it’s always been a great fear that I might end up marrying a man I loved.”

  “And I love you,” he said seriously. “If you could not already tell from our bond, I love you so much more than I could even begin to tell you. But I have other burdens we should discuss.”

  He pointed out the window, at the land sprawled beneath them. Rivers, forests, mountains—the tapestry of Erath lay beyond the glass. “My people will be coming home. There is so much to rebuild. Mercenaries and thieves to drive out. Homes to re-establish. Governance to consider.”

  “Alexei,” Zara admonished, “I know that Erath is your heart. It is not something I would wish to change about you.”

  “No,” he corrected. He threaded his fingers through her hair and leaned in to kiss her deeply. “You are my heart now. More truly than you know. We are tied too deeply to be parted, and while that brings me joy, I also regret that you must feel my burden for my people. Wherever we go, whatever we do, that will always be a part of me.”

  “What do you mean, wherever we go?” Zara scoffed. “Where else would we go? Can you honestly think that I would deny you the chance to restore your land? I may be your heart, but this place is your blood and bone. You’ve been away too long and I can see the joy it gives you to be here and use your gifts freely. What kind of beast would I be if I condemned you to lose that again?”

  “But Zara, you did not choose this of your own will,” he insisted. “I would never tie you to such a difficult, uncertain future when you had no say in it. All you ever wanted was a home, and while this may be my home, it is nothing but a foreign land to you. I swore before I bonded with you that I would follow wherever you chose to go, and I will not break that promise.”

  Zara grasped the front of his shirt and yanked him closer. “Stop trying to be noble,” she snapped. “How many times must I remind you, I proposed to you. And while I have your attention, you should know this: you are my home. No matter where we go, no matter what we choose to do, or where we choose to live. As long as you are with me, I am content.” And this time, she wrapped her fingers in his hair and pulled him in for a kiss.

  “Then it won’t bother you if they try to make me king,” Alexei said, when she let him breathe again.

  “Ugh. Sounds ghastly. But I’m willing to suffer through it under one condition.”

  “Anything, my love. Except cats. I won’t have a cat, even for you.”

  Zara shuddered. “Fair enough. I was going to say no enchanted castles.”

  “That, I think, goes without saying.”

  Epilogue

  Alexei set down the book and looked sternly at the three children in front of him. “I have examined your work,” he said solemnly, “and I find that your memory for detail is lacking.” The two girls’ eyes widened, but the boy remained stoic. “Did I not explicitly tell you that after you finished the assignment, you were to have playtime at once?”

  A chorus of giggles answered his admonishment, followed by a noisy exodus, with multiple whoops and a minor amount of shoving. Alexei grinned, and followed them out of the low wooden building into the warm summer afternoon.

  The town had changed in the past year, almost past recognition. Thirty-seven houses had sprung up, along with the school, an inn, and a few fledgling businesses. Several gifts were now offered in trade: gardeners, artisans, even a stonemason. Gulver was no longer their only healer, which was fortunate, as he spent better than half his time helping to run the inn and courting its owner, Dalmar.

  Stepping into the street, Alexei began the walk back to his home, waving goodbye to his students as he went. The three would be skilled enchanters one day, if they chose. There were twenty-two children that called this town home, and seventeen of them were now able to be instructed in their gifts. It was a blessing Alexei had not dared imagine when he first saw what Erath had become in his absence.

  A roar behind him, together with the thunder of giant hooves pounding the earth, announced the arrival of Malichai, who pulled Loraleen back to a walk as they drew even with Alexei.

  “And how are things in the valley?”

  “Fair and getting better,” Malichai said cheerfully. “The gardeners are working in shifts, and I don’t doubt the task will be complete within the year.”

  “Good,” Alexei muttered. “It can’t be too soon.” His first priority, after gathering a small group of refugees, had been sealing off Athven from the world. Three gardeners had volunteered to encourage the forest around the castle until it formed an impenetrable warren of thickets and thorns. Alexei hoped to deter the curious from exploring the valley until Athven’s very existence faded into memory.

  He had no desire for a passing traveller to discover Rowan Tremontaine’s prison. When they left the castle at the last, the former prince of Andar had been promising to haunt their children’s children’s children, while Athven held his feet captive in the stone floor to prevent him from doing himself or anyone else an injury. His army had already fled in terror of the trembling earth underfoot, so he was utterly alone but for Athven herself as the door sealed itself behind Alexei and his friends, hopefully ensuring that Rowan would never again be free to do magic or murder until his heart had changed.

  Perhaps it made him a monster, but Alexei rather thought that day would never come.

  “Have you heard anything from Silvay, then?” Malichai asked with studied nonchalance, swinging out of the saddle to walk alongside his mare.

  “She’s in the north now, I believe,” Alexei told him, suppressing a smile. “Wilder said they were needed up there. Apparently there’s a steady stream of refugees coming across the border and they’re considering a settlement for the purpose of helping them.”

  “Aye,” Malichai rumbled. “It would be a fine thing if someone familiar was there to greet them. Someone who can help find their homes, if they still exist. Feed them up and give them hope.”

  “We’ve a ways to go yet, but yes. That’s the idea.” Alexei shot a sideways glance at his friend. “Now that you’ve established the border patrol, are you getting anxious to be off home?” he asked innocently. “I’d be sorry to see you go, but King Hollin has got to be wondering what we’ve done with you.”

  “Oh, as to that,” Malichai muttered, “I sent him a letter.”

  “A letter?” Alexei echoed in mock surprise.

  “Telling him I wasn’t coming back just yet. And to tell the truth I’m sure he was just as glad to be rid of me. I don’t much fit in with the king’s men, and I can be of more use here.”

  “Here, or in the north?” Alexei asked, and Malichai blushed.

  “Oh, here and there,” the warrior answered. “But I was thinking, perhaps, if you didn’t need me for a few weeks, I might ride north, see if anyone is in need of a cook. There will be a lot of refugees to feed and Silvay has enough troubles without needing to worry about food.”

  “And you’re sure that’s the only reason? It wouldn’t have anything to do with the twilight rides you two went on together before you left?”

  “I don’t know what you mean,” Malichai mumbled into his beard. “And anyway, I wouldn’t be gone for long. Just to check on things.”

  “Stay
as long as you need,” Alexei urged him, grinning now.

  Malichai grunted and patted Loraleen. “I can’t stay away forever,” he protested weakly. “How am I to write the last verse of my epic if I don’t know how it ends?”

  “It ends,” Zara said from just behind them, “when we go home to a warm fire, warm food, and good friends to share it with.”

  “That is the best kind of adventure,” Alexei agreed, pausing to wrap his arm around his wife’s waist and kiss her forehead. “I missed you. Did your father seem happy to be off on his travels again?”

  “Happy enough, I suppose,” she said with a sigh. “He said he’s looking forward to settling down soon, but I’m not fool enough to expect it until he’s too old to ride.” She smiled fondly. “He’ll be back though. Someday.”

  Alexei could feel her contentment as she thought of her father. Perhaps the lure of the road was too much for him, but she was right—he would be back. Zara no longer had to wonder whether her father loved her.

  “How far did you get?” he asked curiously. “I could feel the bond stretch, but it didn’t seem painful.”

  Zara shuddered. “It was awful. Only about half a day’s ride, and I never want to do it again. It felt like being pulled in half.”

  “Sorry, my love.” Alexei pulled her closer. “I’ll go with you next time. I thought you might want a few hours alone with your father before he left.”

  “What I want,” Zara grumbled, “is a few hours alone with my husband. Now that everyone is off on their separate pursuits, perhaps we could have a quiet evening at home?”

  “And that’s your idea of a happily ever after, is it?” Alexei asked, as their thatched stone cottage came into view.

  “It can’t be,” Malichai argued, tugging at his beard. “What about daring deeds and lost crowns and claiming kingdoms? What of heroic battles and legendary journeys? The story can’t end here.”

  “Yes,” Zara said firmly, “I think it can,” and shot him a pointed look.

  Malichai chuckled. “Aye, very well. I’ll be off. But I’ll be back. I feel like the poem needs another verse or two. Perhaps I’ll set it to music while I’m on the road…”