Shadow and Starlight

by Darcy Sherlen

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2020 by Darcy Sherlen

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or used in any manner without written permission of the copyright owner except for the use of quotations in a book review.

  First Digital Edition, 2020

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  1

  Too late to turn back now. Blood pulsed in my ears, eyes darting as my feet kicked up sand and left a cloud of dust behind me. The sun beat down on the scarlet desert. The largest moon spewed red light, chasing away the blue skies. Bloodtide drew near.

  The approaching clangs of metal sent a surge of adrenaline through my veins. The rules lay forgotten. I trudged forward, sand spilling into my thin shoes, not meant for outside of the palace. My thin burgundy pants billowed in a rare breeze, allowing a breath of relief from the sweltering heat.

  My heart thudded as the coliseum came into sight: A tall ring of brick, used for both events and training. The huge shadowy archway marked the entrance. I hurried through as though the Shadow could snatch me.

  Once inside the coliseum, there was no escape from the high sun beating down. The stadium of seats circled the arena. The celebration of Bloodtide called many warriors to the packed enclosure. It was good practice for the tournaments in the coming days.

  Krev required its people to train, preparing for a lifetime of war, but after so long, fighting had become a hobby, a sport. And a training dummy entertained no one.

  A sea of red-headed warriors, clad in skimpy armor, crowded around the sparring ring. A minefield of holes called the Pits speckled the arena, chasms that opened up to the deep ancient catacombs under the city. The Pits claimed criminals, as well as the occasional unlucky fighter. Those sentenced to the Pits never returned. Never found their way out. Some said it led straight to the fiery Underworld.

  Nearly everyone surrounded it, but I crept around the edge, out of sight. I made my way to the rack of swords, trying to find somewhere with a good view without attracting too much attention.

  The two warriors swung at each other, their fight on the far edge away from the Pits. The young woman, wearing no armor, charged at her opponent—a stout man with beady eyes and a balding head. As she reached him, he dove under her swinging sword, his own metal slicing into her arm. She yelped in pain, splattering the man with blood.

  My heart clenched as she spun around. My sister, Bryony. She wore only the traditional red chiton and brown leather sandals. It was impossible to avoid her. The crown atop her head glinted in the sunlight, though the lack of armor made her easy enough to identify. Her crimson hair was frizzy from heat and motion. Long dark lashes helped to shield her eyes from the sun.

  I felt my throat catch at the sight of blood, exhaling as the gash in her arm closed and the bleeding ceased. She strode toward the man. He laid on his back, his sword outstretched as Bryony approached, scuttling backwards. He threw his sword to the side, holding his hands up in surrender. A bystander tossed the victor a rag as she sauntered away, cleaning the blood from her unscathed arm.

  Though a year younger than me, a mere sixteen, Bryony had everything I wanted. Where she had muscles, I was scrawny. Where she had confidence, I had shame. My thoughts drifted to a cursed childhood, forced to watch her have a normal life, all while they hid me away.

  The Kingdom of Krev had the element of Blood that pulsed through their veins and gave the ability to heal. Bloodburning. The power could be limitless, allowing everything from basic healing to long life. Or, on rare occasions, nonexistent.

  “What are you doing here, runt?” A shadow blocked the sun from my eyes as I looked up. Runt. That's what they called people without the ability to Bloodburn. You could tell just by looking at someone. Without the gift, it was impossible to train in Krev. The boy pushed me, and spoke a little louder. “Look, guys, we have our next competitor.”

  Everyone around me doubled or tripled my size, at least. But I held my chin high, stepping forward; refusing to fight would only make the bullying worse. Someone shoved armor over my head, and a sword and shield appeared in my hands. I dropped to my knees at the weight. Laughter rang out.

  When I forced myself up, they pushed me into the ring with Bryony. Her hair seemed to blaze like fire in the sunlight and my heartbeat sped up as the gate closed behind me. She still cheered from her last victory, holding her hands high into the air. The crowd went wild with excitement at my appearance.

  The sword felt heavy in my hand, but I used all my strength to hold it high. When Bryony turned, she began to laugh. The entire stadium laughed with her. Despite her amusement, a glint in her eye told me of her anger. “Are you sure you're in the right place?”

  I doubt the crowd could recognize me. And she would never admit our relation—she might even try to kill me for saying so. No one would doubt her, there's no way the Princess was related to a runt. How embarrassing to have me for a sister.

  Despite being a similar height, she towered over me, muscles bulging at twice my size. I refused to respond, narrowing my eyes. I whacked the visor of the helmet closed with my leather gauntlet, while the arm carrying the shield already began to feel sore.

  Bryony grinned, then roared like her mane of hair suggested, charging at me. I waited, dodging out of the way, staggering from the weight of the sword, shield, and armor. The crowd laughed, and I found my footing, just in time to slip another attack.

  “You can't run all day,” she growled with fury. Rage that made me wonder if she wanted to hurt me. It wouldn't be the first time.

  Her blade sliced through the air, narrowly missing my arm, only protected by a thin layer of fabric. My eyes widened, realizing the danger of my decision, to come to the coliseum on such a busy day. I gritted my teeth, wondering if Bryony would actually kill me this time.

  My arms sagged, my breath raced, and my vision clouded in sweat and fatigue. An arm swung and knocked me to the ground, the air stolen from my lungs. The helmet knocked off my head, clambering behind me.

  “You lose,” she growled, the tip of her blade against my neck. She'd gone easy on me. Not even a scratch.

  The crowd egged her to do more, to teach me my lesson. I laid back in defeat, raising my arms, but her blade remained. I could feel the pinprick of blood drizzling out from the sharp point. “Now, why don't you go back where you came from. Real warriors have training to do, runt.”

  She spat at the ground next to my head, and I grimaced as the icky splatter hit my cheek. When she released me, I jumped to my feet, fleeing from any pride I had as I exited the arena. I tucked my chin down the droplet of blood streamed down the front of my neck. My head hung low as everyone's eyes spelled out the disgrace.

  I pushed all the armor back into its place on the racks. A cool breeze hit my sweaty face, and I jogged out of the coliseum in embarrassment.


  “Are you crazy!”

  I spun around. A man with broad shoulders, and short copper hair ran through the archway to catch up. He looked a man, though he was barely eighteen. “Do you know how dangerous that is? You're lucky it was your sister or you'd be dead.” He glanced back, afraid of someone overhearing. The concern in his eyes didn't transfer to his handsome face, and his wide grin seemed only a joke away.

  Anten, my best and only friend. If you could call your guard a friend. The son of the High General, and somehow forced to babysit me. I opened my mouth, but he continued.

  “People die in that arena. And you...” He stopped himself, looking around again. “The people cannot know, Princess Elara. It would weaken the power of the Fifth Throne.”

  My cheeks heated, humiliated. “You trained me.” I mumbled, the only defense I had.

  “You can never be trained to fight. You will always be weaker.” My eyes dropped to the ground as he added to my embarrassment. “Let's go,” Anten demanded, but there was an air of softness to his voice. “I was sent for you nearly an hour ago.”

  I felt the look from the corner of his eye. How much trouble I caused him. Would he be punished for my excursion? I treasured my time outside the palace, even if it came with consequences, but it was unfair to him. I touched my neck, brushing away the remnants of any blood.

  Scarlet sands and dry cacti surrounded the city of Akeldama, one of the five capitals of Krev. Almost a thousand Tides ago, a bloody war stained the land red. We had many long forgotten enemies, but one enemy we would never forget.

  In the distance, the Wall sprawled across miles, protecting the lands of Krev from what lay behind. Or, what used to. I had never seen it, but I had heard enough stories to know. Behind the Wall, a castle from centuries past, the home of our greatest enemies: Stalkers. The war had reduced their civilization to thieves of the night.

  I followed Anten back to the Palace of Akeldama, surrounded by greenery like an oasis mirage, the only real plant life in miles other than farms. Tan bricks contrasted with the red dirt. Tall towers, rising into the shape of bulbs and painted bright red. Legend said it was the blood of our enemies, but it was only paint.

  We entered the shady garden, leaving the hot desert behind. Despite the setting sun, heat hung in the air, not a single breeze to offer relief. The pink skies turned darker, and soon they would be blood red.

  Anten's pace slowed to a stop in the private maze of hedges. His eyes met mine. “I would hate myself if anything were to happen to you, Elara. Protecting you is more than my duty to the Fifth Throne.” He paused, plucking a crimson rose, almost the same color as my hair. He stared at it for a long moment.

  He held out the rose for me, and I widened my eyes, unable to contain my surprise. Bryony may have Bloodburning, but I had Anten. I reached forward, my fingers grasping the stem.

  A sharp pain ran through my hand. “Ah!” I called out. The rose dropped, and blood flowed freely from the small gash on my thumb.

  “Elara, I'm so sorry,” Anten began, pulling a small white cloth from his pocket. He held it out to me. “Are you okay?”

  “I'm fine,” I said, trying to ignore the pain and the gushing blood. Trying to hold onto my smile and the excitement from Anten's romantic gesture.

  “How could I be so stupid? I'm so sorry, I should have checked for thorns—”

  “Princess Elara! Where have you been?” The sturdy woman approached with haste; her red hair had faded with her age, but none of her energy had. Agatha, my brood mother. Brood mothers earned more respect than soldiers if they had enough children. With a brood of more than twenty, she resented that my father, the King, had ordered her to be my primary caretaker. A runt, and the shame of her career.

  “If I hear even a whisper you have left the palace grounds—” She continued as she reached us, noticing my finger.

  I snatched the cloth from Anten and wrapped it around my thumb. “It's nothing.” But the mess made by the silly thorn could not be reversed.

  “Nothing!” She rounded onto my guard. “And here you are, about to be promoted, trying to cover it up! When the General hears about this...” Her voice trailed off in a dangerous threat.

  “It's not his fault. I was picking a rose—”

  “I'll get to you in a moment, Princess.” She rounded back onto Anten. “You think I don't know you let her stray away? Someone in her condition needs protection constantly. Do you not understand the importance of your position at the palace? Do you not understand how essential the Princess' secret is?”

  Though my brood mother had little power, and had no right to the title of Queen, she handled all my private matters when Anten wasn't there to guard me.

  It was said Goddess gifted the royal families with powerful Blood, making my family one of the five rulers of Krev. But Goddess was only a fairy tale these days, even the temple transformed into a bathhouse. It was their power, power like Bryony's, that kept our family on the Fifth Throne.

  “I understand, ma'am. Today was a slip up, it won't happen again.”

  “It certainly won't. I won't have a dead runt on my hands because you think she needs more freedom. You are relieved for today, boy.” After Anten's promotion tomorrow, she could never speak to him that way. But it was still today.

  Anten nodded, leaving without another word. I could feel his eyes on me as my mother grabbed my arm.

  “Please, Anten always protects me.”

  She ignored me. “We're going to the Doctor.”

  Her words knocked the wind out of me. “No! It's fine. It's almost stopped bleeding—” I felt the tears building up in my eyes, but she refused to look at me and see my pleas.

  She pulled me back toward the palace. Unable to resist her superior strength, I trudged along, being as much as a burden as possible. My mind raced with anxiety as she pulled me up the steps, passing me off to two guards as she led the way. They dragged me up the tower's staircase until we arrived in front of the familiar door.

  My heart raced as my mother knocked on the door. I hoped that the Doctor would be busy preparing for the coming celebration of Bloodtide. But the door swung open almost instantly, revealing a large dark room. Familiar silver instruments and corked bottles of mysterious liquids covered a large table.

  A woman appeared out of the darkness. She had long straight hair, so dark red it appeared almost black. Like dried blood. The Doctor was absurdly beautiful, busty, and tall. Her height made up for the lack of muscles, if her profession didn't already. While she may have been an exceptional Bloodburner, she had no interest in learning the sword.

  “Agatha.” She gave a warm smile, and looked to me. “Princess.” Her eyes were hallow of emotion, disregarding the two men holding my squirming body in place.

  “Ligeia, the Princess has cut her finger,” my mother began.

  “I always have time for my favorite patient.” The Doctor said too quickly for my liking as she stepped out of the way. “I'll take it from here,” she said, nodding to my mother with her signature smile, her voice so sweet it made me sick.

  The guards pushed me inside, though my entire body resisted, it was hardly a struggle to push a runt around. “Let me go! Please don't leave me alone with her!”

  “Don't be ridiculous, Elara. The Doctor will help you,” my mother insisted with a roll of her eyes, shooting a silent apology for my outburst. She gave the Doctor a terse smile. Before I knew it, the door slammed shut behind me, leaving me alone in the room with the devil herself.

  “I don't need anything, Doctor. We've tried everything and I...” I backed myself into the wall.

  “Really, stop with the formalities, Elara. It's been years. Call me by my name,” she said, her voice as smooth as honey. “'Doctor' sounds like you are one of my other patients. But you are special.”

  My vision shimmering with wetness, knowing there was no escape. Only the Doctor could release me.

  The tears streamed down my face as she easily overpowered me, strapping me into a ch
air at the center of the room. Her icy fingers brushed away the tears. “All is fine, dear. I will fix you.” She muttered to herself: “Somehow.”

  She removed my shirt, revealing my arms. Even in the darkness I could see the thousand scars marring my skin. She selected a small knife and approached me.

  I watched the curtains turn red, like blood seeping through white cloth.

  Bloodtide had arrived.

  2

  Through my eyelids I could see the red stain of Bloodtide. Outside, the largest moon would be full and beaming crimson light through the night. A soft bed caressed my body, the sound of my own steady heartbeat lulled me back to sleep. A knock sounded at the door, interrupting my tranquility.

  I moved and pain shot through my body. New cuts covered my skin, stinging like fire. Most of the bleeding ceased after the Doctor had poured an inscrutable liquid over them. It burned like acid for a few minutes and I had begged for her to wash it off.

  “Princess?” Anten said from the other side of the door. Each movement almost caused me to cry out in pain, but I forced myself to stay silent. Unable to move, I remained on the bed.

  My brood mother's voice joined his. “What are you doing here? Go on to the celebration. The Princess needs her rest.”

  “No, she's been locked away for hours, Agatha. I demand to see her. It is my duty to ensure she is unharmed.” A smile came over me.

  “It's not your job anymore. Go enjoy the parties, boy. The ceremonies begin soon.”

  I had almost forgotten. The festival of Bloodtide was in full swing. People from all over Krev would be celebrating for the next few days. The rulers of Krev had traveled to Akeldama, where Bloodtide burned brightest this year. I was never allowed to celebrate, but sometimes I could see some fights while I watched through the windows. There was too big of a chance that I would expose the weakness of our family lineage. Instead, very few people knew I even existed.

  The door opened. Anten peered in, and my mother almost managed to shut the door on his face. But his superior strength allowed him to push open the door. Anten's eyes widened, blood-spotted sheets giving away my condition. “What is going on?”