Entwined Paths (Swift Shadows Book 2)

by M. L. Greye

  “Does anyone?” Emry frowned. “What else is there other than Oceana and The Flatlands?”

  Oceana was an expansive collection of islands north of Perth. It was a territory in itself, and the battleground for the Pirate Wars – the great battles between Ship Lords over land and gold and treasures untold. Emry knew of the wars, but as they hadn’t plagued Enlennd’s borders, she didn’t know much. Perth had dealt with the Ship Lords. And their Warrior – this Varamtha – had protected them.

  As for The Flatlands, which laid west of both Quirl and Heerth, it was a massive, desolate flatland of sand and wind and aether lightning storms. Aether was the term everyone used to describe the strange lightning that infested The Flatlands. No Gray had ever been strong enough to survive its crossing to make it through the aether. Thus, it was unchartered territory. People once knew what lay beyond, but that was lost during the Silver Reign. When Silvers were the conquerors from Enlennd to Quirl to Heerth.

  Trezim lifted his sun blades and urged power into them, turning them to steel. “Don’t assume that just because the information was lost during the Silver Reign those other lands have forgotten about us. Varamtha has mentioned there are peoples across The Flatlands. They exist. One day they may decide to expand their borders.”

  Emry grimaced. The world was so much larger than she’d ever thought. The only unrest her own Court ever discussed was that of The Feud. But under Trezim’s tutelage, she’d realized the world was much more than just Rioters and Royals. Emry shouldn’t have taken this long to understand that.

  This was what it meant to be a sovereign. What she would be doing as the future queen. She needed to protect her people. She’d been so focused on herself – on making sure she could protect herself – but she was to be queen.

  Others would rely on her to navigate the threats to them and to protect them from the world’s terrors. Emry took a steadying breath of air as that discovery settled into her – as the weight of her impending crown fell upon her shoulders. Was this what her father felt like all the time?

  Her heart began to race, but this time not from exertion. “I think I’m done for the day.”

  She needed air. Badly.

  Trez only nodded, as if he knew why. As if her face spoke her thoughts.

  Emry didn’t offer any farewell as she strode away from the Family Rounds. She fled through the palace’s halls – all the way to her rooms and out onto her private veranda. It wasn’t until she dropped into a chair that she realized she was still holding her shadow blades. She stared at them somewhat bitterly before lifting her eyes to the sky.

  She saw it now – she was helpless in more than just defending herself. She had no idea how to rule a nation. How could she ever become queen?

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Two days later, Emry’s insecurities had turned to irritabilities. She couldn’t shake the feeling of being incredibly inadequate. Nor her shame at only now recognizing she was on the same path her father had been.

  Onyx had not been meant to be king, so he had not spent his time learning politics, stratagem, or international affairs. When he took the throne, he was not only inexperienced but also horribly unqualified. So he maintained his father’s advisors, using them like a crutch. As those advisors retired or died off, instead of appointing new ones himself, Onyx let his advisors pick their own replacements. Onyx was only a king in name. His advisors made the laws and did the ruling. Even Emry, who was not involved in anything political beyond this trip to Heerth, could see how little her father truly did.

  Even though it had bothered her for years, Emry had shrugged it off as simply how he was. Did it make her just as indifferent as her father? As apathetic and uninvolved and complacent? During the past two days, she’d come to realize she was well on her way to being the same sort of ruler as Onyx. The thought both mortified and enraged her. It also made her snappish.

  As planned the night before, she’d skipped her shadow blades session that morning for a swim with Sabine. However, after about twenty minutes, Emry had made the mistake of asking about whom Sabine was to entertain that afternoon for her father – a group of disgruntled merchants, upset over new taxes. Sabine was to answer their questions and charm them into maintaining their trade routes between Zyntar and Acoba. It was a political maneuver that Emry’s own father would never have asked or trusted her to do. Emry had not been able to keep the bitter edge out of her voice, and she had left a confused Sabine not much later.

  She’d spent the rest of the morning in her rooms and didn’t emerge until after lunch for her Turanga practice. Or rather, she opened her door to head down to the hall of rounds but stopped short when she found Trezim looming right outside of it. He was in a bright blue tunic vest and loose yellow pants. She blinked up at him. “How long have you been standing there?”

  His golden gaze dropped to her navy and lime practice tunic and leggings. Ignoring her question, he said, “Our lesson today is going to be a little different. We’re going into the city.”

  “Why?” She demanded.

  “Because it’s healthy to venture beyond the palace walls every so often,” he replied with a smile.

  “You mean Sabine told you I had too much of a bite to my words this morning,” Emry retorted, folding her arms across her chest.

  Trezim shrugged noncommittally. “Fresh air keeps you young and spry.”

  Emry nearly snorted as she closed the door behind her and stepped into the hallway. It was painted a blue so pale it was almost white. Trezim bowed slightly and swept his arm to the side – indicating for her to go first. “After you, Emry.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Where in the city is there a place for us to practice?”

  He placed a hand on her lower back as they rounded the last corner to the sweeping tiled stairs. “It’s a surprise I’ve been holding onto until you were ready.”

  When he didn’t go on, she tossed him a sidelong glance. “That’s it? You’re not going to elaborate?”

  “Don’t worry.” His grin gleamed down at her. “You’ll love it.”

  :::::

  Declan leaned in and kissed Quinn for the hundredth time before dropping back onto the grass. They were taking a reprieve from training and work, out in the woods bordering their garrison – on the Anexian side.

  It was one of the last sunny days before the chill of autumn completely took over. Knowing this, they both had felt like getting out of the garrison. Declan had suggested relaxing in one of the clearings they’d found, and Quinn – ever good-natured – had agreed.

  He and Quinn had been together for over a month now. Everyone knew. They didn’t hide it. Not that anyone really cared. Anexians were always upfront about their relationships. Their superiors didn’t care. They still were partnered for almost every shift.

  It was spending all those shifts as partners in the first place that had drawn Declan closer to Quinn. She was kind, open, and a little shy. Even though she didn’t smile much, when she did, it would brighten her whole face in a way that kept surprising him. Made him want to repeat the action over and over again.

  “What was that for?” Quinn blinked.

  They’d been discussing when they needed to head back. Not exactly romantic. Declan didn’t wonder at her confusion. He chuckled. “Your lips were looking too soft not to taste.”

  She raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

  Quinn was usually more serious than he was. In a boyish way, he would try to draw out some sort of silliness from her any chance he had – to get her to flash that rare smile. Declan pulled their joined hands up to his mouth and kissed the back of her hand, letting his lips linger. “I guess it’s not just your lips that are soft.”

  “What?” She let out a startled laugh.

  Declan grinned at the noise. “I almost wish you were scheduled tonight with me,” he admitted. “Almost. I’ll envy your sleep.”

  “I’ll be joining you out there tomorrow night.” Quinn leaned her head against his shoulder in a rare display of
affection. She wasn’t really the one to initiate any sort of touch. Always so pragmatic.

  He kissed the top of her head. “Good. Stefan doesn’t make a great replacement for you.”

  “I wouldn’t have thought he would, but come on,” she patted his elbow with her free hand. “I’d hate for you to be late to your shift because of me.”

  Declan sighed and allowed her to pull him up to a sitting position. “I’m a Teal. I won’t be late.”

  “Fine. I’m getting cold.” She frowned.

  “And there it is.” He laughed. “The real reason why you’re forcing me back so soon.”

  She stood above him, glancing down. “I’m waiting.”

  From anyone else, her words would have sounded demanding or selfish. But for Quinn, that was just how she was. She didn’t butter up her words. Declan took his time stretching and yawning before finally uncoiling to his feet. Quinn rolled her eyes, and Declan laughed again, tucking her under one arm. She fit in quite nicely.

  Quinn was on the short side – barely coming up to his shoulders. Her height paired with her small frame made her seem like she’d be easy to take down, but only a fool would be deceived. One look at her face – the steadiness in her gaze – and anyone with half a brain would think twice. She was phenomenal with a bow and quick on her feet. She’d bested men larger than Declan before. Not him personally, but he was a Teal after all.

  “Alright,” Declan smiled, “Let’s go. I don’t want you turning into ice.”

  She grunted in response but still let him pull her in closer as they began the trek back to the garrison.

  :::::

  Emry was staring – wide-eyed, flat-out staring. They were in a plaza. Or was it a square? Either way, it was an open area between buildings with various rugs tied together and strewn across the expanse about twenty feet above Emry’s head – creating a false roof. Then, beneath that were clay rounds. It was like what it had looked like during the Sun’s Day festival in Zyntar, but so many more. About twenty red Heerth clay rounds. Maybe even twenty-five. All of them were packed with sparring partners.

  But unlike the people on Sun’s Day, these people weren’t just partnered with one person. They were bouncing in between people – hitting one staff to the right and twisting to hit another to the left. It was as if they really were…

  “It’s a dance,” Emry breathed Trezim’s words from so long ago.

  The Heerths in front of her were dancing. Twirling, spinning, stepping, thwacking – their movements were fluid and smooth like liquid steel.

  “We who dwell in Acoba call these gatherings Turanga Squalls,” Trezim said, a hand on her lower back as she surveyed the dancers. “Twice a week everyone meets to spar with strangers and friends.”

  “I could watch them every day.” She really could. The way they moved … They were breathtaking.

  “Oh, you won’t be watching them today.” Emry glanced up at him, but before she could voice her dismay, he said, “You’re going to be joining them.”

  “Me?” She squeaked, whipping her head back around to face them. “Out there?”

  “The Turanga always starts slow,” he reminded her with a laugh. “You’re ready to get out there. Today won’t be about knocking down your opponent – it’ll be about keeping the rhythm going. Like you said, a dance.”

  She shook her head as he pushed her forward with that hand on her back. “I’ll stumble through the steps.”

  “I think you’ll be surprised with how well you’ll keep up.”

  Emry pulled a face but didn’t say anything else as she walked with Trezim into the plaza. He veered off to one of the rounds on the left side. There was a rack of staffs to pick from – their wood dented and worn smooth from use. Trezim handed her a staff of her usual preferred length, and Emry ran her hands along it as she’d been taught – looking for weaknesses. She was pleased to find none. Even though the staff was well used, it’d been taken care of.

  After selecting one for himself, Trez waved a hand at the closest round. “Shall we?”

  She winced but stepped to the edge of the round after Trezim. A line had formed there in front of her of about six people. Trez moved to the back of it, and Emry went behind him. She was about to ask what they were waiting for when the woman at the front of the line leapt onto the round and began thwacking her staff against the staffs of those already on it.

  “The Turanga begins here,” Trez explained, answering her unasked question. “You’ll begin slow and as you speed up you’ll move on to the next round. On and on and on until you can go no further. If the next round is too fast, you simply slide off your last round, grab a drink, catch your breath, then come back here.”

  Emry bit the inside of her lip. “How am I to know when to move on? Or to get on in the first place?”

  “You’ll get on this one when someone moves to the next round,” he replied with a smile as he began tying his golden hair back with a leather strap. “You’ll move on from there once you’ve faced everyone on this round.”

  Just as Trez spoke his last word, an orange-eyed man with skin the color of warm chocolate and blond hair shorn at the nape of his neck, jumped off the first round and onto the next one closest to it at its right. The line moved forward as a teenage boy entered the round the Orange had just left.

  Emry rested one end of her staff on the paved brick floor and twisted her hands around the top of it. Her gaze locked on the far end of the plaza – at the people spinning and twisting in a whirlwind of color and noise. They were so vibrant, fast, and strong. Emry was beginning to feel very small and inexperienced.

  There was just one more person in front of Trez. It was almost her turn. She was going to make a fool of herself. But … did it really matter? No one on the rounds seemed to care if someone fumbled or tripped. Once they’d reached the limit of their skill, they just walked off and began again. Emry noticed one of the younger teenage girls walk off her third round before getting back in line behind Emry – at a speed Emry actually thought looked easy still. This wasn’t a place to show off, Emry realized. This was a place to practice – for everyone to get better by facing a variety of opponents.

  Trez was up. Before he moved to get on the round, he tossed a wink at Emry. “Don’t overthink it. Find your rhythm. When it gets too hard, just come back here and begin again.”

  Before Emry could respond, he was up on the round facing off with a young woman who had her long gold hair braided back, a sheen of sweat on her honey brown forehead. Emry was now at the front of the line. She couldn’t take in a deep enough breath to calm her heart pounding in her chest. Her grip on her staff was already a little slick, and she hadn’t even begun yet.

  Then, the woman Trezim had faced first jogged off the round, on to the next one. Emry’s heartbeat was like thunder in her ears as she stepped onto the clay, its warmth seeping into her bare feet. She was momentarily concerned no one would notice she’d entered, and she wouldn’t know where to jump in. But then the middle-aged man who had been three ahead of Trezim in line spun to face her.

  Emry hefted her staff up to meet his, her hands separated at either end as she’d been practicing for months now. The thwack of their two staffs meeting reverberated up her arms, and muscle memory took over as she recognizing a beginning sequence Eazon had dragged her through countless times.

  Her mind quieted as something that must have been close to instinct took over. She stepped and blocked and twisted until after one particular move she spun herself toward a new opponent. And began again.

  It was all so natural. That was the surprising part. Switching between partners wasn’t just easy, it was the obvious next step. It went with the flow of the movements. The rhythm of the steps – thrumming through her whole body. Then, all at once, Emry had faced everyone.

  Feeling much more confident in herself, Emry stepped off her round and onto the next. This one was faster, but not by much. Emry made her way through her partners, and then progressed on. Again and aga
in and again. Until Emry was panting and sweating. Until she was nearly stumbling with each step she took. Until her arms ached and she could barely keep her grip on her staff. Emry had reached her limit.

  When she finished with the last person on the round, instead of moving on, she walked to a table off to the side of all the rounds. It was filled with pitchers of water and empty cups made from ice – thanks to a couple Pales who were lounging beside it.

  Holding her staff in one hand, setting one tip of it on the ground, she filled one of those ice cups with water. The ice bit into her hand when she raised it to her lips, but she was for once grateful to be holding something cold. She was sweltering. She guzzled her water and held the ice cup to her forehead, savoring the cool water dripping down her face as it melted against her skin.

  She backed away from the table as others strode up for a drink and surveyed the rounds for Trezim. Emry had made it through half of the rounds. More than half by two, actually. And on her first run! Trez had been right. She’d surprised herself. Coming to Acoba had been very beneficial – she’d improved immensely.

  Emry finally found Trezim about three rounds ahead of where she’d left. He was much better than she was. She watched him spin around his partners easily. He was sweating and breathing heavily but not struggling to gulp down air like Emry had been.

  Deciding to move to the edge of the plaza for a better view of her friend, Emry wended her way through the crowd, holding her ice cup to her neck as she let the water run down her skin, cooling her.

  She watched Trezim progress from one round to the next until there was only one left. A round that only held three people because no one else had lasted that long. Trezim was very good.

  Emry stood transfixed as Trez progressed to the final round – sweat slick and panting. But he kept up. He more than kept up – he made the other three stumble. Because there were so few of them on the round, they each faced each other twice. And Trezim … he was graceful and powerful and fast. He wasn’t a Teal – didn’t move like one – but he was clearly in his element.