Entwined Paths (Swift Shadows Book 2)

by M. L. Greye

  His plan had worked. He’d collapsed into bed just before dawn and had only just risen. He’d successfully avoided any free time on the one year anniversary of his friend’s death.

  It was better this way. Time to himself meant he had time to let his mind wander down sad, dark paths of what-ifs and regrets.

  He’d been down that way before in the months following Ewan’s death. He hadn’t wanted to go that way again today.

  Instead, he had simply slept through it. Thus far, it seemed to have worked out well enough.

  Declan dressed quickly and made his way to the dining hall – the large barn-like building where everyone in the garrison took their meals. It was empty except for the thirty or so warriors who would be on duty that night. He filled a tray with his rather simple meal of a cold turkey and cheese sandwich on a day-old roll and a handful of carrots. Compared to the feasting he usually did on Autumn’s Eve, this was depressing. But at least he wouldn’t be working on an empty stomach. The kitchen girl had even slipped him a sweet roll, in honor of the holiday she’d said.

  He found an empty spot across from Quinn Dix – a blue-eyed girl from the Anexia-Glavenryl border – and dropped down into it. Quinn was one of the few females stationed at the garrison. Unlike the expectation for all young Anexian males to sign up with a garrison for a couple years, the young women weren’t held to quite the same standards. Most didn’t join. They were usually more interested in other pursuits.

  Quinn, though, had joined the garrison about five months ago. Lately, Declan and Quinn had been partnered up for their night shifts together. The commander was still requiring double staffing. Since Harkin had vanished, two more night warriors had gone missing – another man from nearby and a woman from northern Anexia. Declan hadn’t known either of them, but he couldn’t rid himself of a sense of dread at their disappearances.

  “Where have you been all day?” Quinn glanced up from her plate, her brown hair grazing her shoulders in Anexian fashion.

  The past couple weeks, he and Quinn had fallen into a routine that after they’d recovered from their shift during the night – usually around noon – they’d eat lunch together and train for a few hours before their next shift.

  “I worked two shifts in a row yesterday,” he said, taking a bite out of a carrot. “I just barely woke up.”

  She nodded and went back to eating. Quinn didn’t know what today meant for Declan. He hadn’t told her. Not because she wouldn’t understand, but simply because he didn’t want to make a big deal out of it. He was worried if he did, then he would go back to focusing too much on his friend’s murder. It was just better this way. Easier.

  “A lovely way to spend a holiday,” she said dryly.

  He shrugged and finished off his carrot.

  Quinn lifted her cup to him with a wry smile. “Here’s to hoping on our next holiday we’ll have it off.”

  Declan didn’t point out he’d chosen this for himself. Instead, he clinked his dented metal cup against hers and said, “To better holidays.”

  :::::

  Everyone was screaming. In every direction. People were stumbling over each other. Struggling to get away – far away from the stage.

  Emry’s ears were ringing. The music had stopped mid-note – only to be replaced by the screaming.

  The drummers had attacked. Were still attacking – stabbing. They were stabbing the audience. It was why people had started to scream and run. The troupe on the stage had vanished – along with their instruments.

  Sabine appeared in front of Emry – hands on her shoulders. “We have to go. We have to go now, Emerald.”

  Why did her voice sound so far away? Trezim joined Sabine and locked a hand around Emry’s wrist. In his other hand, he held a long knife – the blade dripping blood. It was one of the knives the drummers had had. How had Trezim gotten one?

  “Run, Emry!” Trezim ordered her before yanking her forward – dragging her over bloodied stone and around fallen bodies with torn flesh and gaping views into their insides.

  Emry was going to be sick. Her dinner was rising up in her throat. But Trezim wasn’t going to stop. Emry clamped a hand over her mouth, willing her feet to keep moving. They had to get away from the stage. People were still shrieking. The drummers were still out there.

  The drummers were still out there! Emry halted so fast she even tugged Trezim back a step. He whirled as Sabine pulled up alongside them.

  “What?” Sabine demanded, eyes darting.

  “Go help your people.” Emry pointed off to her left, toward the shouts. Trezim had led them down a side street. There were still people running past them but not nearly as much as out in the square.

  Trezim gaped at her. “You-”

  “Sabine and I will head back to the palace.” The ringing in Emry’s ears had ceased, allowing her thoughts to clear. “You’re a trained warrior. Your people need you. Go!”

  He threw an exasperated look at his sister. Sabine only nodded once. “Go. I’ll look after her.”

  Of course. Because Sabine was a Heerth princess, not one from Enlennd. Sabine had been given some training. She knew the Turanga. She wasn’t useless like Emry.

  Her brother must have come to the same conclusion. He handed Sabine the dirty knife and warned, “Don’t stop until you’re through the palace gates.”

  Then he was off. Sabine extended her free hand to Emry, who latched onto her warm fingers, and together they began their mad dash for the palace again. Emry was grateful Sabine knew the way. Emry was still somewhat new to the city. She really only traveled the main roads – roads Sabine was deliberately avoiding. Corner after corner they rounded until Emry’s lungs were burning and her legs felt like both butter and lead.

  “Almost there,” Sabine panted.

  Emry didn’t have enough energy to waste on a response, so she just kept pumping her legs forward. She was so weak. It was infuriating.

  Her hair had long since tumbled out of the bun on top of her head. It was now streaming behind her, whipping against her back with each step. She barely noticed it – barely noticed anything. Which was why she didn’t register the hand reach out from one of the corners and lace through her hair until she was being jerked backwards.

  She realized too late she should have released her grip on Sabine as she fell. They both landed too hard on the brick road.

  Emry cried out as her hip absorbed the impact. Sabine took the fall far better. She rolled to her feet in a fluid movement, knife still in hand. Emry grunted and pushed herself up into a sitting position. It was all she could manage as she gasped in for air.

  Four figures emptied onto the street from whatever alcove or crevice they’d been hiding within. Three men and a woman. The musical troupe that had disappeared – sans their instruments.

  The guitarist rattled off something in Heerth, his accent too thick for Emry to catch it. From his tone, she gathered it was something rude or angry. Sabine had understood him, though. She pointed her blade at him and sneered. “She’s Enlennd. Your qualms are with Heerth royalty. Leave her be.”

  “Not right now, she isn’t,” the woman spat out – her accent not quite as thick as the guitarist’s but still different than the Heerth Emry had grown accustomed to. “She’s as much a Heerth princess as you are. We’re still expected to show her the same amount of respect we’d show you.” The woman’s grin turned feral. “So, allow us to show you both our respect.”

  The three men leapt at Sabine. At the same time. Emry stared as Sabine pushed each one of them back.

  She was clearly better trained than they were, but there were more of them than her. And the woman was a Teal.

  The belly dancer had bolted around Sabine and the men to Emry. She pointed a knife to the front of Emry’s throat. Behind the dancer, Emry watched as one man slid an unchecked blade across Sabine’s right shoulder – the one holding up her knife.

  Sabine stumbled just enough for him to land a blow to her face, knocking her to the side – ri
ght into the fist of the clarinet player. Sabine collapsed onto the brick, blood gushing from her nose – out cold. Emry gasped.

  The Teal’s dark laugh echoed inside Emry’s skull as she said in Emry’s own language, “You’re going to want to watch this, trynpyla.”

  The term of respect was a taunt on her lips. The woman nodded her head toward Sabine without removing the tip of her knife from Emry’s skin. The drummer rolled Sabine onto her back with the tip of his boot. He picked up Sabine’s dropped knife and slid it down her bare arm from wrist to shoulder.

  “Stop!” Emry screamed as blood oozed out of Sabine.

  “Don’t worry,” the woman snickered. “You’re next.”

  Emry was shaking all over. These strangers who had made such beautiful music were going to kill them. Emry had to save Sabine. Her friend had sacrificed herself for Emry. She couldn’t just let her die – she couldn’t let herself die. Emry knew what she had to do. She clenched her jaw and said in as even of a voice as she could manage, “Stop or I'll make you stop.”

  The drummer raised his brow. “How?”

  She took a deep breath, ignoring her heart pounding in her ears. “By killing you.”

  They laughed.

  Honestly, Emry might have done the same if their roles were reversed. But they must not had noticed her eyes. Or they’d never heard of the abilities of a Silver. The Teal should have slit her throat when she’d had the chance. Too late.

  Emry reached out a hand, adjusting her eyes. She grasped onto each one of their light and pulled it taut. All four froze, eyes bulging. The men dropped to their knees, hands at their chests.

  They felt it. Felt their lives in her hands.

  Emry rose on unsteady legs. They all stared up at her. For a moment – a terrifying, delicious moment – Emry savored the feel of their lives. The power within them. How easy it would be to take their light for her own. To wield it. To never be helpless again.

  But to be forever tainted. Her mother had warned her.

  So she merely closed her fist, stripping them of their light. She didn’t accept it into herself, though. She released their life forces into the open air and all four Heerths collapsed.

  Emry returned her eyes to normal as their darkness slithered into her. Out of habit, she shifted through it to the raw power and compressed it into herself. Just as she had done many times before.

  She then bent over and puked until there was nothing left inside of her.

  :::::

  Emry stood at the balcony railing, glaring into the city as the sun set. She didn’t know if she’d been standing there for minutes, hours, or days – she’d lost track of time as she watched the sun crest across the sky with the moon becoming its shadow. She’d been there since she’d showered – since she’d returned to the palace the night before.

  It was there that Trezim found her. At the balcony railing. He’d let himself into her room. He slid up alongside her, silent for only a moment. Unable to contain that exasperating half smile of his. “Are you angry or sad to see the sun go?”

  She didn’t return his smile. She didn’t turn, either. Without any emotion in her voice, she asked, “Why are you here, Trezim?”

  He twisted his body to face her. That smirk slipping slightly. “I came to make sure you’re alright. Patice told me you haven’t eaten all day.”

  “I haven’t been hungry,” she replied in her empty tone. In a voice that belonged to someone else far, far away – void of the emotion that coiled inside of her. Roiled and thundered within her veins.

  Trezim fell silent for a moment. Then, as if he couldn’t miss the chance to hear his own voice again, he said quietly – as if they shared a secret, “You know, you saved both your skins. I should thank you for that.”

  “Thank me?” Emry blurted, finally turning to him. “I killed them. I sucked their lives out of them. And now…” Emry spread her splayed fingers outward across her chest, gripping onto the fabric covering her skin, glaring at him. “I feel them. Death, anger, envy, fear – it’s all inside me. Tainting me. Changing, contorting, suffocating me.”

  For once, he miraculously didn’t open his mouth. She noticed how he gawked. The startled disgust. It made all those emotions within her sizzle. It fueled an anger she hadn’t realized she’d been building.

  “I had to suck them in as you say to ‘save our skins’ because I was still too helpless to do anything else. I can barely fight. The hour or so a day I spend learning the Turanga has barely helped. I’ve told your instructor I need more time to practice, but he tells me that’s all the other ladies spend on it.” She narrowed her eyes and spat out, “Except those other ladies aren’t learning the Turanga as means of defense – as a way to make them never feel so helpless and cowardly ever again.”

  Trezim just stared at her in stunned silence. Emry took a step toward him, and he yielded one. She sneered at his retreat.

  “Why do you make promises you don’t intend to keep?”

  He blinked. “What?”

  “You promised you would teach me – train me to protect myself. But all you’ve done is throw some palace tutor at me, like I was just a courtier wanting to learn how to dance.” She loosed a string of curses that would have made her father sputter. “Do you have anything to say for yourself?”

  “I didn’t promise to teach you,” he said gently, as if he were conversing with a wild tiger.

  “You said you’d teach me. That’s as good as a promise,” she shot back. “Your word is your bond. If you had no desire to teach me personally then you shouldn’t have said as much.”

  “I-”

  “No. I have no desire to hear your excuses. I don’t have the stomach for them.” Emry turned back to the sunset, returning her hands to the rail, and repeated, “Why are you here, Trezim?”

  It took him a full minute to reply. When he did, his voice was barely more than a whisper. “I don’t know.”

  “Then leave me be,” she said evenly. “I’ll find my own instructors from now on.”

  She didn’t watch him exit.

  :::::

  Emry watched the sun set. Stared out into the city below. Trezim moved up alongside her at the railing. “I feel them. Death, anger, envy, fear – it’s all inside me. Tainting me. Changing, contorting, suffocating me.”

  They’d had this conversation before, Emry realized as she turned to face him.

  Except it wasn’t Trezim beside her – forearms rested on the railing. It was Declan. Her dead brother’s friend.

  She stared at him. “Why are you here?”

  He glanced at her over his shoulder. A breeze ruffling the short strands of his blue-black hair. His teal eyes shifting to molten gold where the last rays of the sun hit them.

  Her breath hitched. Declan was stunning. Had she ever noticed that before?

  “Let them change you,” he said softly. “Let them contort you. Just don’t let them suffocate you. Come out someone stronger than you were before. Someone better.”

  Emry jerked awake.

  There was knocking at her door. She rubbed at her eyes blearily. Pale rays of moonlight sifted in through the windows. It was night. Not day.

  The image of Declan’s face in the setting sunlight branded across the back of her eyelids. When was the last time she’d even thought of him? She probably only dreamt of him because yesterday was the anniversary of her brother’s death. At least, that was probably it. Not because, in that light, he’d looked like the most beautiful man she’d ever beheld.

  The knocking was still going. It wasn’t loud, but continuous – more like rapping.

  She moaned and eased herself out of her pit of pillows. When had she gotten so used to sleeping like a Heerth? She stumbled forward a few steps before adjusting her eyes so she could see in the dark.

  “I’m coming,” she grumbled at her door, her bare feet padding across the cool tile.

  Pushing back loose strands of hair out of her face that had been freed from her bun, Emry swung ope
n her door.

  And found Trezim. Bare backed and barefooted. Wearing nothing but a loose pair of pale gray pants, cast blue from Emry’s night vision.

  Emry blinked. “Do you know what time it is?”

  “I want you to come with me to Acoba,” he said, ignoring her question. “We can leave in the morning.”

  She stared at him. “In the morning? Have you lost your mind?”

  “After what happened yesterday, I convinced my father that you and Sabine could use a break from Zyntar,” Trezim told her, his words tumbling out. “I told him you would be better off there in case word of the attack ever reached your father. We could claim you’re safer there than in our capital. Acoba is smaller.”

  “Have you forgotten what I said to you?” She narrowed her eyes. “I don’t want to just be safe, I want to know how to defend myself.”

  He nodded, rubbing at his neck with one hand. “Which is the real reason why I spoke with my father.” She frowned as he went on, “I want to take you to Acoba so I can teach you myself. My father’s court won’t be there.”

  “So no one can witness me practicing,” she retorted.

  Trezim gripped her doorway with both hands and leaned into her room toward her, putting his face inches from hers. “If I cared about that, do you really think I would have asked my father to let me take you with me? There are plenty of members of my father’s court in Acoba to spread rumors.” He released a short laugh, his breath tickling her lips. Emry nearly took a step back, but there was something in his golden eyes that held her frozen in place. “I care about you, Emry,” he breathed.

  They stood there for a moment – their breath mingling. Trezim’s eyes drifted down to her mouth for a heartbeat. He straightened, releasing his hold on her door. “I care,” he repeated.

  His words struck something inside of her. She frowned at the unexpected warmth spreading through her. She wanted to go to Acoba. She wanted to see more of Heerth – the country she’d slowly been falling in love with. But to go with Trez – to spend more time with him. Hadn’t he just looked at her with disgust on the balcony? She pulled a face. “You’ve got to give me a day. And Sabine. She’s the one who was injured.”