Dax stared at the tattoo. It looked like the burn mark on Lydia’s body. No, not like it. It was exactly the same.
“They faked it, Dax. I think he was telling the truth. Lydia Ashdown is still alive.”
“But why? And where is she?”
“Only Lydia can tell us why.” Alys stood up, wiping her bloody hands on her pant leg. “As to where, I have an idea, but I hope I’m wrong.”
Act 6
The Best Laid Plans
As soon as Squinting Raff opened the door, Alys was already pushing it wider and storming inside. “Where’s your boss? She’s expecting me.”
Raff stared at her for a moment and then jerked his chin upwards. “Her room,” he growled. “You know the way.”
Alys strode through the room in a flurry. The few whores still awake stirred as she crossed the space, but they kept them quiet and out of her way.
“You sure about this?” Dax asked as she reached the door.
“No,” Alys said, but she rapped hard on the door.
There was a drawn out moment before the door opened, and there stood the Tigress. The make-up was thick on her face, and the casual dressing gown she wore was busy with a fur collar and gemstones. “My dear, what an unexpected pleasure. Your company twice in such a short interval. I am touched. Truly, I am.”
Alys ignored the condescending tone. “I’m here to see Lydia.”
The Tigress’s eyes narrowed and she pursed her painted lips. “You’ve lost a step,” the Tigress said, her hard green eyes glittering behind the heavy shadows of her make-up. “Or you’re just getting soft.”
Alys stepped inside the door, Dax following close behind. As he entered, the Tigress ran a wrinkled hand over his cheek. “I figured it was only a matter of time before I saw you in my bedchamber, Magistrate,” she said with a throaty laugh.
Dax opened his mouth as if to say something, but stopped short. On the bed, amidst a sea of cushions, sat Lydia Ashdown.
The girl was a close match to the body on the docks, though the real Lydia here had larger eyes. They added to her look of desperate innocence as she sat up straight. “Daxton!” she exclaimed breathlessly. “The Lady of this house,” she said, indicating the Tigress, “told me that you were searching for Calder. Tell me, I beg of you, have you found him?”
Dax took Lydia’s hands as he knelt down before her. “Lydia! Three months your family has been searching for you. Kara was desperate with worry. This morning you were dead. What is going on?”
Lydia blinked her wide, round eyes and shuddered. “Lord Ellis, we had no choice. Things just got so out of hand so quickly, we had to find a way out. We had to!”
Dax shook his head emphatically. “But to fake your own deaths? To make even your family believe such a thing?” She began to tear up and Dax squeezed her hands. “What happened, Lydia?”
Lydia Ashdown took a deep breath. “When I met Calder, he was in a bad situation. But he was sweet and kind, and we…” Her words trailed off and her smile grew larger. “We fell in love. We wanted to leave, get out of Resa. Make a new life for ourselves out in the Marches. You know my parents. And Calder, with everything… It was a fresh start for both of us. Just the two of us.”
“What happened?” Dax’s voice was soft and gentle.
Lydia’s face fell. “I did something foolish,” she said quietly. “I knew he owed much to his former associates.” She had her hands in her lap and she began to wring them together. “I had money. So I thought I would pay off what he owed.”
Alys spoke up, shaking her head, “The Leather Aprons? You presented yourself to the Leather Aprons? As Lydia Ashdown? You might as well have rung the dinner bell.”
Lydia nodded, her delicate chin quivering. “They were horrible,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “They took all that I had brought, and then told me that it was not enough. I was to bring more money, every week, or they would kill Calder, and then hurt my family.”
“Why didn’t you go home then?” Dax asked. “Why not come to the magistrates? To me?”
“It would mean leaving Calder behind to face the wrath of those animals at having lost me.” She shook her head vehemently. “We knew that if we were to get out of Resa, we would need to free ourselves from the threat of the Leather Aprons once and for all.”
“By making them think you were both dead,” Dax said.
Lydia nodded. “We were desperate. So, instead of bringing the latest payment to the Leather Aprons, we came here to the Tigress.”
By the closed door, the Tigress gave a slight bow. “And I was of course more than happy to support such a noble enterprise in any way I could.”
“I’ve no doubt of that,” Alys said. “You supplied the bodies, then, and arranged safe passage?”
“I am nothing if not resourceful, dear. You of all people should remember that.”
“Calder had it all planned out. He tattooed both of the bodies to resemble ours. His markings and my burn scar.” She smiled. “He really is an artist.” She paused for a moment to take a deep breath. “Last night, we made sure we were both seen around the docks, then I came here to wait while he placed the two bodies in the river.”
Alys crossed her arms over her chest. “Knowing they would surface eventually with enough damage to hide they weren’t really you. And the distinguishing markings would be more than enough to convince anyone interested that you were dead.”
“That is just what Calder said. So I waited here, but he never came back. Now please, where is Calder?”
Dax looked lost, as if he could not find the right words to break this young girl’s heart.
Alys did it for him. “Calder is dead.”
Lydia’s head rocked back like Alys had hit her with a fist. She shook her head back and forth as tears fell down her face, but then looked to Dax for confirmation. He could only nod, and validate her pain.
Lydia shook, but her sobs had subsided to an eerie calm. Tears fell from her blankly staring eyes. “Then what does it all matter?” she said in a hollow voice. “My Calder is dead.”
Inside Alys, a cold voice spoke. What did she think was going to happen? it whispered. A fairy tale ending? Riding off into the sunset like a troubadour’s tale? This was the only way it was going to end. How it was always going to end. There are no happy endings in Lowside.
Alys turned her back and walked from the room and out into the Lowside night.
A few moments later, Dax came out to join her, his eyes red. She sighed. That was always his problem. He felt too much. Cared too much.
“You should be happy,” Alys said. “Young Lady Ashdown is alive, and the only casualties were a few gangers and a degenerate Lowside wastrel that no one is going to miss.”
“Lydia will miss him,” Dax said simply.
“Then she’s a dreamer and a fool,” Alys replied.
“She was in love.”
“So that makes everything all right? Their entire plan was idiocy and ineptitude. It got him killed and it came close to ending her. You don’t think that was foolish?”
“I think it was brave”
“Of course you would.”
“They were far braver than we were,” he said. “Braver than I was.”
Alys looked at him, surprised at the admission. She wanted to return with a barbed tongue, but instead honesty came forth from her mouth. “We were plenty brave, Dax. We just weren’t smart.”
“We’re smarter now.”
That caught her off guard. “Are we?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.
Dax smiled. A confident smile with a hint of something hiding behind the edge of it. That confidence was something she hadn’t seen in a while. Not since the days when they had first met.
“I’m thinking about spending more time down here in Second District,” he said, still wearing that smile.
Alys laughed. “In Lowside? Well, that proves you’re an even bigger fool than before, not less of one.”
“Perhaps,” Dax said. “Then that’s
all the more reason why I will need to call on you as my occasional guide.”
“If you are willing to provide payment,” she said, her arms once more crossed, “perhaps I’ll help you. For a price of course.”
Dax laughed and nodded slowly. “Nothing free in Lowside?”
“Not ever,” she said. “And, speaking of which, it’s time to pay up, isn’t it, Inspector? I believe the terms were for the name of the Justicar for Lowside, and what leverage there is on him.”
“Very well,” Dax replied. “The name of the new Justicar for the Second District is Lord Daxton Ellis. And as for what leverage there is on him, well…” He paused and looked at her. “You already know.”
In stunned silence, Alys watched Dax turn and walk away into the last light of the evening, heading back toward Highside. She watched him until he was gone from her view. And then, as she stepped into the shadowed alley, a slow smile began to grow on her face.
Follow the continuing stories of Alys in Book 2.
Coming Soon.
Acknowledgments
Mark: A huge thank you to my dad, Dan Gelineau, my brother Dave, my wife Tiffany, and my son Bryce for their love and devotion. And to my mom, Pam Gelineau, who I miss every day.
Joe: To Irene, Emma, and Kate. Thank you. You guys make me a better everything.
A massive thanks to the team that helped put it all together:
Jason, TJ, and Marija.
And also to our friends and beta readers:
Jason, Maria, Dave, Helen, Maggie, and Emily.
Author’s Note
Echoes of the Ascended, Books 1
Thank you so much for reading Best Left in the Shadows.
Mark and I met more than twenty-five years ago, and inspired by all the great fantasy authors of our childhood, we wanted, more than anything, to tell our stories as well. To share them with others. With you.
It has been a long journey to finally get here. It hasn’t been easy, but nothing worthwhile ever is.
We’ve got many more stories to tell in Aedaron. Our mission is to get one new story out to you every month.
Different characters. Different stories. But our same love for the world, characters, drama, and action that matter most to us.
We hope you’ll come along for the ride.
– Check us out at gelineauandking.com
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Hope to see you again soon.
Mark & Joe
v3.0
Previews
Roan
The smell of the fire still clung to the boy.
It clung to all of his friends as well, filling the space of the small wagon they slept in. In spite of the open top, in spite of the cold breeze that blew throughout the day, even in spite of the two weeks that had passed since the night the orphanage burned down, the children still carried the smell with them. The scent of soot and ashes, of fear and death.
The loss of the orphanage weighed on him more than he thought it would. It had not been much, but in the two years he had been there, it had been more of a home than he had ever known. It had been where he first met the others, and where they welcomed him in as family.
And now, they had all lost everything.
Roan slammed his hand against the wagon’s side, the coarse-grained wood biting into his knuckles. In the cold, quiet of the late evening, the sound of it was like a crack of thunder, and immediately he regretted it.
“Can’t sleep?” Kay’s dark brown eyes shined in the low light.
“Did I wake you?” he whispered.
“No,” she said, rubbing her eyes sleepily as she sat up. Her long brown hair had fallen forward, obscuring her face. Her features were soft and pale, accentuated by large, bright eyes that seemed to take in everything at once. He had always thought she was beautiful.
“I did. I’m sorry, Kay,” he said, keeping his voice low. “Go back to sleep.”
“What’s wrong?” she asked, shifting more upright, a slight edge of tension in her voice.
“Nothing. Just excitement, I guess. Cadell says we should arrive at Resa the day after tomorrow.” He gestured toward the only adult in the wagon, the old man handling the reins of the mule team that pulled the wagon. The back of his bald head was wrinkled and marred with small scars and dark, tattooed lines.
Kay’s eyes narrowed. “Do you really think we can trust him? That he’s telling the truth about starting new lives there?” she asked. “I mean, after everything, how can we trust anything?”
“He did save our lives,” he reminded her gently.
“And you saved his.”
“Well, that means we should be able to trust each other, don’t you think?”
Kay was quiet for a moment. “I guess so,” she said, but there was no confidence in her words.
In the half-light, she looked smaller. Diminished. The suspicion and doubt in her voice hurt Roan in his heart. Kay had always seen the best in people. She had always been the first to smile. The first to trust.
But that was before the fire.
Roan reached out and Kay moved to sit beside him. She seemed so small as she settled in. He tousled her hair in an effort to try and cheer her. “Come on. There are great things ahead for us. We’re going to become Razors. Like the great heroes in Elinor’s stories.”
The wagon rocked slowly and both looked to Elinor asleep on the floor, Alys and Ferran beside her. Roan felt a twinge of sadness at the thought of separating from his friends after they had been through so much.
Almost as if she could read his thoughts, Kay sighed. “I wish they could come with us,” she whispered.
Roan slowly nodded. “Me too, but they won’t be too far away. And they’ll be following their dreams. Making them come true, just like we are.”
“Are we, Roan?” Kay asked. “How? Other than kitchen chores, I’ve never held a blade in my life. How am I going to become some great warrior?”
“That’s what the school is for,” he chided her gently. “They’ll handle teaching us and Cadell said he will give us a letter of introduction, so they will give us a chance. That chance is all we need.”
Even as he spoke, he hated himself for lying. Kay was right. She had no experience fighting, and she would be going up against the best in the kingdom, students who trained their entire lives for that one sole purpose. She had little chance of making it. And if she didn’t, if she failed, then she would truly have nothing.
But what choice did they have?
“What if I don’t make it?” Kay said quietly.
“You will.”
“How do you know that?”
“Because I’ll make sure you do,” he said. “I’ll be there by your side.”
There was a pleading look in her eyes. “And if we fail?”
His lips tight, Roan locked eyes with her. “Then we face whatever comes after. Together.”
Kay found his hand and gripped it tightly with both hands. Roan squeezed back. She nodded softly, and then laid her head on his shoulder. He could hear her soft breathing and in a few moments, she was asleep again.
Despite her warmth, Roan felt cold.
His mind brought forth memories of childhood, of being on the ragged edge, fighting for every mouthful of food, desperation turning you into a wild, feral thing that was barely human. That had been life, until Kay and the others took him in. He could not allow her to fall into that existence. It would change her. It would break her. As he had seen it happen to so many others.
No. He couldn’t let it come to that.
He wouldn’t let it come to that.
She had saved him. Now, he would do the same for her.
He wrapped his arms around her and stayed perfectly still as she slept. The thud of the team’s hoofbea
ts seemed to count down the moments remaining in their journey to Resa, the capital, and to the Razor School of Faith, where their new lives awaited.
Prologue
Conbert’s hands were slick with sweat on the reins, despite the cold breeze. Every rustle of the long yellow grass, every whistle of the wind, any sound not the rhythmic clop of his horse’s hooves on the worn cobblestone road sent his eyes darting and heart racing.
He had traveled the Reach Road two times previous. Each time had been without incident. Each time, he had arrived at his destination hale and whole, without even a glimpse of the fabled predators the grasslands were so famous for. Yet each time, the sense of dread, of cold fear, had been with him.
The first time, he had tried to play the part of the brave hero, riding forth on a grand quest like the legendary figures in the old stories. That lasted until he caught sight of the infamous drowning grass. The blades were the height of a man and they moved with a sinuous and lifelike grace on each side of the wide stone road.
The fear had started then, shattering whatever myth he might have fabricated of Conbert Eylnen, the future valiant officer of the King’s Own. In the face of that grass and what he knew could be hiding under it, he was just Con, apprentice engineer and architect, student of the academy, and anxious to get the hell out of there.
Somewhere far out across the sea of grass, a lone tree rose up like an island. It marked the halfway point in crossing the grassland. It had often given Con comfort. But this time, beneath the shade of its heavy, twisted boughs, there was movement.
A human shape.
Impossible. The only road through the drowning grass was the one he was on now. No one would be stupid enough to travel into the middle of the cursed grass, set up like a picnic for the rendworms.
Con pulled his horse to a halt. Reaching down to the heavy saddlebag, he pulled out his surveyor’s glass and raised the delicate instrument to his eye.
Sure enough, there was a person. A girl. She seemed tall, but even with the glass, it was difficult to judge at this distance. She had short, blonde hair that was almost white as it ruffled in the wind. What really caught his attention was her clothing: the familiar grays of an academy cadet. The same grays he had worn as an underclassman a year ago.
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