A Song of Shadows (2020 Ed)

by Jenna Wolfhart

  Rourke gave a nod, and the two of us steered our horses to the gates of the castle. The guards waved us through, and soon, we were on our way. Because of the turmoil between the Courts, Rourke and I were forced to go by foot rather than simply rely on our ability to shift. When the Courts were at peace, the boundaries were open, and free access was allowed. By foot, by horse, by wings, or by magic. But those boundaries had been shut down. Now, the only way out was to go back through that archway by the tavern we’d passed on the way in.

  Rourke and I were silent as we followed the long and winding path. The summer night rose up around us, just as brilliant and as vibrant as the cloudless sky days. Flora and fauna danced in the soft breeze, almost glowing underneath the light of the full moon. The gurgling stream beside the path was rushing now, and even in the dim light, I could see fish poking out their heads and darting back under the blue.

  “Rourke,” I finally said, after what felt like hours upon hours of silence. “I hope you know I truly am sorry. I never should have snapped at you like that, especially not after...”

  After everything he’d shared with me.

  “You don’t need my forgiveness, Norah. You need a way to protect your mind from the darkness.”

  “Yes, but—”

  “It’s fine, Norah,” he said. “It is nothing to fret about. Focus on the task at hand. The Wilde Fae will not be easy to deal with, and we need to be on our guard.”

  The Wilde Fae. The banished members of faerie society. If a changeling failed to pass at the Academy, they were forced to join the Wilde Fae. I’d been warned about them. Kael had told me they were violent and vicious and cruel. And now we were walking straight into one of their villages with nothing more than the weapons on our backs.

  But, hours later, when we arrived at the wooden gates of the village, the snarling, mangy-haired guard would not let us through with our swords.

  “You want to come into Yarinya? You’re going to have to surrender your steel. No fancy fae outsiders allowed in here with weapons. We’ve made that mistake before. We won’t make it again.”

  The fae guard peered through the small square hatch. He had one green eye and one blue, and his teeth were sharp and pointed. He looked nothing like any of the fae I’d met before, and there was a wildness in his eyes that unnerved me. It felt as though it was impossible to predict what he might do next. In fact, I had the strange certainty that even he didn’t know what whim might capture him.

  “We mean no harm. We’re just here to visit Grim and talk to the shopkeeper there. Won’t take long.” Rourke’s voice was smooth and calm, but it didn’t seem to have much of an effect on the guard.

  “The shopkeeper, huh?” The guard narrowed his mis-matched eyes. “You’re going to have to hand over your weapons then. Otherwise, you can trot back off to your fancy Autumn lands.”

  Rourke frowned. Clearly, the Wilde Fae held a grudge against the Autumn fae just as much as the Summers did. We could stand here and talk all day, but this guard was never going to budge. If we wanted to get inside and search for that stone, we were going to have to lose the swords, a fact that did little to steady my unease about coming here.

  “If you’d like to turn back now, Norah, then I—”

  “No.” I gave a nod and pulled the sword from my back. “It’s fine. We need to speak to that shopkeeper. So, we’ll let you hang on to our swords until we leave.”

  A strange smile spread across the guard’s lips. “Very well then. It’s been a long time since we’ve had visitors.”

  I slid my sword and my dagger through the opening in the wooden wall, and Rourke followed suit just behind me. His expression was a mask of pure calm, but there was something in his eyes that told me he wasn’t thrilled about the situation. But neither was I. After we’d handed our weapons to the guard, the gates shuddered as he cranked them away from the ground.

  Moments later, Rourke and I were inside the village. It was a small, dark, and dreary place. There were about forty buildings in total. From a quick sweep of the premises, I spotted a tavern. No, wait, that was three taverns. There was some kind of butcher shop, a place that looked as though it sold weapons and clothing, and then there was a small squat little building in the corner. Wooden blocks had been tacked to the front, spelling out the word ‘Grim’.

  All the windows were lit up by torches or candles, beaming a strange orange glow into the dark of the night. It was a glow that highlighted our surroundings, almost too well. Wilde Fae milled around the dirt-packed ground, cackling and shouting and pounding their fists on their chests. There was a blur of a fight just outside the front steps of one of the taverns, and I swore I saw a trail of blood that led from right where I stood to the front doors of Grim.

  “Is it always this lively at night?” I turned toward the guard, but he’d already disappeared back up his little tower overlooking the front gates.

  Rourke edged closer to me and gently placed his hand on my elbow. “The Wilde Fae are awake at night. They sleep during the day.”

  I stared at him blankly. “So, they’re like vampires.”

  “If only.” He tightened his grip on my elbow and steered me toward the little hut in the corner of the village. For that, I was at least grateful. We wouldn’t have to stroll through the throngs of revelling fae. If we were quick enough, they might not even realize we were here.

  Ha! Unlikely.

  When we reached the shop, we strode up a creaking set of stairs and reached a door that was covered in claw marks. Deep grooves had been etched into the surface, as if some wild animal had been desperate to get inside. I swallowed hard when Rourke reached out and trailed his fingers down the wood, and my spine trembled at the thought of walking inside.

  Something didn’t feel right. But of course this place would feel wrong. There was something twisted about the magic of the Wilde Fae, as if their power had corrupted them into what they had become.

  “Stay just behind me,” Rourke muttered beneath his breath. “And if I tell you to do something, do it.”

  I swallowed hard.

  “Promise me, Norah. You’ll follow my commands no matter what.”

  “Rourke, you’re scaring me,” I whispered.

  “Does that mean you’ll do what I say?”

  I nodded.

  I mean, I would probably do what he said. But only probably.

  “Good.” And with that, he pressed his hand against the front door of the shop.

  My breath froze in my lungs as my eyes swept across the interior of the shop. At once, the tension that gripped my shoulders loosened just the slightest of notches. I wasn’t entirely sure what I’d expected—blood dribbling down the walls, maybe. Skeletons waiting to drop from the ceiling. Jars of thumbs and eyeballs.

  But Grim looked…surprisingly normal, as far as magical shops in the land of the fae could look normal. Homemade wooden shelves had been propped up along each wall, and they were full of a variety of trinkets, manuscripts, jewellery, and clothes. Along the furthest wall, a long skinny table separated the shop from the keeper’s tiny office. A female fae with bright golden hair sat hunched over some kind of parchment. Her face was about two inches from it, and her tongue was stuck out between her lips.

  “If you’re here to cause trouble, you’ll find yourself flat on your backside within seconds.” She ripped her gaze from the parchment and stood a little straighter when she saw me and Rourke hovering by the still-open door. “Oh. Actual visitors. I’m sorry. I thought you were one of those nuisances out there. Well, go on and shut the door. Don’t want to attract their attention, now do we?”

  Rourke’s movement was so smooth that I didn’t even see his hand move from the door. The cringes creaked as the heavy wood slammed behind us.

  “Come on in and look around. Or is there something particular I can help you with?”

  “I’m sorry,” Rourke said, taking a step further into the warm atmosphere of the shop. There was even a crackling blaze in the fireplace. “W
e’re here to speak with Pan Peelan, the shopkeeper, about an object he may have collected over the years.”

  She gave a nod. “I’m Raine. Pan was my father. He got into a bit of a tricky situation with Queen Viola a few years ago, and well, let’s just say that I’ve inherited the shop from him and leave it at that.”

  Yikes. Queen Viola strikes again.

  “You’re not a Wild Fae,” I finally said. “Are you?”

  “Goodness, no.” She laughed and shook her head. “I’ll admit, it’s not the most ideal of locations for the shop, but it’s my father’s legacy, and it’s where everyone knows to look. I live just across the border in the Autumn woods, and I come here to trade at night. Luckily, they leave me alone for the most part.”

  Rourke frowned and moved toward the nearest shelf, one that housed a collection of sparkling silver jewellery. Rings and necklaces, bracelets and hair pieces. “How familiar are you with your father’s collection? The item we’re looking for may have passed through here as long as eighteen years ago.”

  “Eighteen years ago.” Her voice was flat as she repeated Rourke’s words. “That is a very long time.”

  Rourke nodded and moved onto the next shelf. I trailed behind him, my eyes darting to each object, disappointed each time I saw something somewhat stone-like, only to find it was anything but.

  “That’s right,” he said.

  “I must say, that’s an interesting timeframe,” the shopkeeper said. “And quite specific. Eighteen years, you said. I don’t suppose you could give me a better indication of what it is you’re looking for?”

  “It would be a small stone. Dark gray. Perhaps a bit smaller than your hand.”

  “I see.” The woman’s eyes flicked from Rourke to me. “Well, there’s nothing like that out front here, but I have a fairly extensive inventory in the back. More specialized items, if you will. Careful not to touch any of that, dear.”

  My hand was hovering a mere inch away from a small notebook. A crinkly old thing with pages that were too old and mottled to allow the leather cover to properly shut.

  “These are Death Objects. If you touch them, you will extract an essence of the deceased. That one right there belonged to a murderous Wilde Fae. I would avoid that if I were you. Not to mention, it ruins it for sale, and you’d have to purchase it as well.”

  My hand dropped like a stone to my side, and the shopkeeper gave me a tight smile.

  “I’ll just head into the back to have a look through my inventory. It shouldn’t take too long. Feel free to look around the shop for anything else you might find of interest but remember what I said. No touching the merchandise. I’ll know if you do.”

  The shopkeeper disappeared behind a thick golden curtain, and Rourke was by my side within an instant.

  I frowned at where the shopkeeper had disappeared. “She’s strange.”

  “She’s surrounded by objects imbued with death all day,” he said in a low voice. “Her father was even stranger.”

  “Do you think she has it?”

  “She certainly seemed to know what I was referencing, though it’s hard to say whether she has her hands on it or not. I must warn you. She may try to give us a lemon. It wouldn’t be the first time Grim attempted to sell a fake. You’re most certainly going to have to test whatever she brings out.”

  “How am I going to do that without touching it?”

  But Rourke didn’t have a chance to answer. The shopkeeper returned, her lips wide and poking up in the corners. In her gloved hands, she held a small stone that was no larger than my thumb. It didn’t look like anything special. It was dark gray, flat, and perfectly normal. If I’d seen it on the ground, I wouldn’t have even noticed it.

  “This stone was found within Queen Marin’s dress, which came to us after her timely death.”

  I wrinkled my nose at her words—timely—but she merely continued.

  “I believe,” she said, her eyes flashing, “that this is the object you are looking for.”

  Rourke strode forward and frowned down at the tiny little stone. His face betrayed nothing. Even I couldn’t tell whether or not he was impressed by the rock. He let out a light sigh and tsked before glancing over his shoulder at me.

  “Could you come closer, please? I can’t be certain this is it.”

  “I assure you, this stone could be nothing other than the object you were inquiring about,” the shopkeeper said.

  I strode up to Rourke’s side and stared at the stone. Up close, it didn’t look any different. Bland, boring, endlessly gray. With a slight shrug, I said, “I guess this could be it, but it’s hard to say.”

  The shopkeeper huffed. “Honestly, this is ridiculous and more than a little insulting. To be accused of lying—”

  “Let us test it, just to be sure,” Rourke said.

  She narrowed her eyes. “Most certainly not. You cannot touch a Death Object unless you intend on paying for it. Otherwise, it’s worthless to me.”

  “I don’t need to touch it,” I said, holding out my hands. “I can use your gloves. There’s no harm in that, right?”

  It was a long, silent moment before the shopkeeper spoke again. I could tell that she wasn’t inclined to let us do this, but there’d also been a fact I hadn’t missed. Grim did not get very many visitors. This wasn’t the kind of place to move a lot of merchandise. She was desperate for us to purchase from her, and she wouldn’t turn down a potential customer, regardless of how badly she wanted to say no to our test.

  Finally, she set the stone gently on the table and pulled off her gloves. “Very well. You may examine it for a moment. But if there’s any funny business with this object, I’ll be forced to make you pay.”

  “Got it.” I grabbed the gloves and pushed the rough material over my hands just as heavy footsteps thudded on the stairs outside the shop.

  Rourke twisted toward it, his head cocked. “Let me guess. We’re about to have some Wilde Fae visitors.”

  “Oh no. It’s much better than that,” came the steely voice of the shopkeeper. “That will be the Queen’s personal guard, here to take you in. You see, I know who you are, Rourke. You’re a rebel and a traitor, and you and this changeling have been working with the Summer fae.”

  My heart thundered in my chest as the realization of what she’d done swept over me. She had alerted the Autumn Court that we were here. How, I didn’t know, but she had. And now, all we could do was wait for them to barge through that door. We were trapped. We had no hope of an escape.

  Rourke grabbed my gloved hand, threw it on top of the stone, and pressed his forehead tightly to mine. His skin was hot; his eyes were wild. He’d never looked more fierce.

  “Do it,” he hissed in a harsh whisper. “Hide yourself.”

  The footsteps grew louder. They were only seconds away from storming inside now.

  “Rourke, no. What about you? I can’t—”

  His hand cupped my cheek. “You promised you’d do what I said. Hide yourself. Now.”

  My heart felt split in two, but I couldn’t ignore the desperation in his eyes. I’d promised him. I couldn’t go back on my word now, even if it meant hiding in fear instead of standing to fight. With a heavy sigh, I closed my hand around the stone and focused on the shadows that caressed Rourke’s face. That uneasy feeling slid over me, cloaking me in darkness, just as the shop’s door blew open.

  Four Autumn Hunters strode in decked out in full leather armor, and Rourke dropped his hand from my face at once. He stood facing the Hunters, his hands curled by his sides. He was the perfect image of cold and calculating calm. His face was blank, his eyes focused on the fae before him. Not even the tip of his pinky quivered, even when the four fae raised their swords. He was pure steel, I realized. Pure, unbreakable steel.

  “This is him?” the male in front barked, flicking his fingers to the three behind him. They spread out in an arc, easing closer to where Rourke stood in the center of the floor. They were the ones with the swords, but it was almost a
s though they were afraid of him.

  “Rourke, the rebel,” the shopkeeper said icily. “Just as you requested.”

  Just as they’d requested? What did that mean?

  “And the changeling?” the Hunter asked, glancing around with a frown. “You said she was here.”

  “The changeling is gone,” Rourke said coolly.

  The Hunter narrowed his eyes, and he lifted his chin toward the shopkeeper behind me. I hadn’t moved even the slightest of inches since they’d barged through the door, too afraid that if I did, they might hear the floorboards creak beneath my trembling feet.

  “Is this true?” he asked the shopkeeper.

  She stammered for a moment before she managed to find her voice. “I don’t know what happened. She was here one minute, and then she was gone.”

  So, she didn’t know what the stone actually did then. Good.

  “I thought this shit-hole blocked shifting,” he said, his voice growing angrier and angrier by the minute.

  I kept my breath held tight in my throat. For some reason, these Hunters were looking for me. Maybe if they thought I had fled, they’d leave this place and go searching for me. Maybe they would let Rourke go, and all of this could end.

  “It does block shifting. I don’t understand how she got out.”

  “I see.” The Hunter motioned at Rourke, and soon, his three friends formed a circle around my instructor. They snatched his arms from his side, twisting them behind his back. There was a flash of pain in Rourke’s eyes, but it was only an instant and gone too quickly for them to see.

  My heart leapt into my throat, and I took a step forward, hand outstretched. They were going to take Rourke. I had to do something, anything, to stop them.

  But his cool voice broke through my thoughts, causing my feet to slow. “You made a promise.”

  The guards seized him. And then he was gone.

  Chapter Ten

  My feet wouldn’t move, even after the three Hunters dragged Rourke out of the Grim’s front door. The fourth stayed inside. The leader, I was guessing. He strode forward, his golden cloak billowing behind him. Abruptly, he stopped just short of the shopkeeper’s desk, leaned down, and braced his fists on the table.