Entwined Paths (Swift Shadows Book 2)

by M. L. Greye

  Trezim had often told her how little he cared for most things in his life, which included people. Out here on the rounds, though, he more than just cared … he was passionate. It was as if the Turanga made him come alive. As if the Turanga belonged to him, and he to it. He was beautiful.

  At last he exited that final round, his chest heaving. His eyes scanned the plaza, looking for her. She smiled and maneuvered her way to him.

  When his gaze landed on her, a grin lit up his face. She wasn’t sure she’d ever seen him look so happy. “You were fantastic!”

  “Me? What about you?” Emry realized she was still holding onto her staff. She twisted her hand around it. “I’ve never seen anyone move like that."

  He shrugged – the most relaxed he’d ever looked. “When you do this from childhood this is how you get.”

  Emry doubted that. She’d seen Sabine do the Turanga, and she hadn’t come close to Trez. He loved it, and it showed. He kept up with it even after his lessons had ended.

  “I need a drink.” He tossed a glance over to the table with water. “Are you done for the day?”

  She ran her thumb along the edge of her staff. She wanted to say yes, but after seeing him fight … She needed the practice. So she shook head. “I’m going to do one more run while you rest.”

  “Really?” He blinked, surprised.

  “I came to Acoba to train,” she replied. “I’m going to train. I’ll see you when I’m done.”

  CHAPTER NINE

  For the next three weeks, Emry went to every Turanga Squall. Once with Sabine, and twice with Trezim. The other three times she went alone. No handmaids to guard her. No palace guards to follow her. Completely by herself. Free to go where she pleased. Safe to do so because she could now protect herself. It was absolute bliss.

  Here in Acoba, she’d never felt stronger. All her training was toning her body. She was able to keep up with Sabine easily at the Turanga. As for sparring with blades – Sabine with sun and Emry with shadow – Emry could best her every time. She’d pinned Sabine several times now, only to be destroyed by Trezim right after. Repeatedly. Reminding her thoroughly not to gloat at her own progress. She still had much to learn.

  But she was progressing. Her countless hours were paying off. Slowly. A little bit everyday. With every swipe of her blade or twist of her staff, she felt less and less helpless. With her progress, her confidence grew. Well, in regard to physically protecting herself. Politically … She still felt like a useless, uneducated mess.

  During the past few weeks, her thoughts kept edging back to what sort of ruler she wanted to become. She knew she wanted to be nothing like her grandfather, Topaz. Or even her father. Both ruled very differently – one a self-serving despot, the other a passive typification of what a leader should look like, but in name alone. Her grandfather had bordered on tyrant, while her father was barely more than an emblem. Emry wanted to be neither.

  She wanted to be a better ruler than her predecessors. Emry was slowly coming to the conclusion that in order to do so, she needed to fix the problems within her own nation. To focus on solving the unrest – The Feud. How could she rule a country that was divided?

  That left her with the question she had yet to solve. The question that had been gnawing at the back of her mind for weeks now: How was she going to unite the Rioters and Royals?

  It was this same question that plagued her while she wandered the market alongside Sabine. They were in the textile district, looking for fabric – for Sabine to wear.

  In a little over a week, it would be another festival – Sun’s Rebirth. Or so Heerth called it. In Enlennd, and Quirl for that matter, it was Night’s Crown. The winter solstice. The longest night of the year. Strange that it was winter at her own palace. The dry heat of Acoba mocked the idea. No wonder Heerths celebrated the sun more than anything else. For their Sun’s Rebirth, they’d be celebrating the lengthening of days rather than the long night like they did in Enlennd – a remnant from their years under the Silver Reign. Silvers loved the night.

  For a heartbeat, Emry missed being in her own lands. She wasn’t sure what it was about Heerth, but the moon didn’t call for her here. Perhaps it was that she slept beside an open veranda in Acoba. When the full moon rose, its rays slid over her while she slept. Or maybe in this land of sun, the moon was overshadowed, muting her own power.

  Each shade of eye had another to combat it. For the fire in an Orange, there was the ice of a Pale. For the destruction of a Gray’s storm, there was the regrowth of a Pink. It was what kept balance in their world. Perhaps, for the power of a Silver, there was a Gold. The sun lit her dark shadows. Perhaps it dimmed the moon’s pull as well. Did that make Trezim Emry’s counterpart?

  She frowned at the thought as Sabine lifted a swath of soft, white cloth with gold geometric designs embroidered along its edges. It looked lovely. And expensive.

  “What about this?” Sabine asked, draping it across her middle to get a look at it against her skin.

  The color theme for Sun’s Rebirth was at least the same as Night’s Crown. White or variations on the color – from palest shades of color to ivory to cream. In Enlennd, the white was in celebration of the faces of the moon. Emry didn’t know the reason why Heerth chose white.

  “For your skirt?” Emry asked.

  “For either,” Sabine replied, her gaze still on the cloth.

  Emry ran her fingers along it over Sabine’s stomach. It was smooth and lightweight. Perfect for Acoba’s heat. “I love it.” She really did. The thread of the embroidery matched Sabine’s eyes.

  Sabine stared at it for a moment more before pulling it away from her. “Fine. I’ll get it.”

  As she wound the fabric back around its bolt, she glanced at Emry’s empty hands. “Did you not see anything you like?”

  She’d honestly been only half looking. Her thoughts kept distracting her. “Not yet.” She shrugged.

  “There are many more shops to see,” Sabine said encouragingly. “Let me buy this and we can move on.”

  While Sabine completed her purchase, Emry glanced down the line of shops. To Emry, they were more like booths – open to the elements except for the stretched rugs or canvas above that covered their tables and wares in a makeshift roof.

  The textile district was a square portion of the city comprising of three streets down and then the three streets that connected those in between. There were actual stores in part of the district, but on the backside of buildings – where it was just walls without doors – booths were lined up side by side. That was where they were now. A wide array of color spread before her, but most of the merchants had their palest colors and white out front on display to catch the eyes of holiday shoppers.

  “Finished.” Sabine slid up beside her. “Now to find you something my brother won’t be able to keep his eyes off of.”

  “What?” Emry whipped around so fast she stumbled.

  Sabine chuckled. “Don’t act like I haven’t seen the way you look at each other.”

  “I- he-” Emry’s cheeks were burning. Trezim looked at her no different than he did any other woman. It was just how he was. He was a flirt, and Emry, having simply grown used to his charms, harmlessly flirted back. She and Trez were friends. Nothing more.

  But she must have looked guilty because Sabine laughed and linked arms with her. “I think with your dark hair and pale skin we should put you in a color other than white.”

  “I’m not so pale anymore,” Emry retorted. Her time in Heerth had given her a nice tan. Sabine gazed pointedly down at their linked arms. Her brown skin in stark contrast against Emry’s – even with the tan – really did make Emry look pale. She sighed. “Fine, but if I’m to do a color, I want it blue.”

  “An icy blue would look splendid with your silver eyes,” Sabine agreed. “Oh, like this.”

  Sabine tugged her over to a stall with bolts of fabric in different shades of pastel blue and reached for one that reminded Emry of frost. Sabine released he
r hold on Emry to slide her fingers over the cloth, and immediately shook her head. “No, that’s scratchier than it looks.” Her eyes snagged on another fabric beside it. She yanked it out and extended it to Emry. “This, though, is liquid smooth.”

  “I thought you said ice blue.”

  It was periwinkle. Well, if periwinkle had been left out in the sun for hours to fade until it was nearly white. But it was liquid smooth. There really was no better way to describe it. Emry released a moan as her fingers gripped onto it. “Do you think anyone would care if I suddenly only wore clothes made from this?”

  “Every woman in the world would want to steal them off your body,” Sabine chuckled.

  “It doesn’t have any designs embroidered on it, though,” Emry said holding up one edge.

  “We could add that later.” Sabine grasped onto it again, as if she truly would rip it away from Emry. “A seamstress could do that for you.”

  “Then, I guess I’ll be wearing periwinkle.” Emry wanted to rub her face in the cloth.

  “Trezim will love it.” Sabine threw her a sly smile.

  Emry rolled her eyes and picked up the bolt of fabric. There was another woman with the merchant. Emry waited in line behind her – the fabric gripped against her chest. She glanced over her shoulder at Sabine. The Heerth princess was admiring some jewelry on a nearby table.

  “Still no news on your nephew?” The merchant’s voice drew Emry’s attention back around. He hadn’t spoken to Emry. The question had been directed at the rotund light-haired, mahogany skinned woman who was checking out with him.

  The woman shook her hair, the bun on top of her head flopping a little to one side. “None at all. My sister is worried sick.”

  “It’s so odd,” the merchant tsked. “I’ve heard of three disappearances from Prythius now. All young – no more than twenty-five.”

  Emry frowned. This was the first she’d heard of anything like it. Prythius was the southernmost city of Heerth, right along Quirl’s northwestern border. Neither Trez nor Sabine had mentioned anyone disappearing.

  “I’ve been told the king is looking into it,” the woman said, her voice sad.

  “He is.” Sabine slid up alongside Emry as the woman spun around. Both she and the merchant dipped their heads when they recognized who Sabine was – it was the usual subdued sign of respect the royals in Acoba received.

  “My sister fears it was the Torqs,” the woman ventured, her voice hushed. It still surprised Emry that the commoners of Heerth spoke freely with their royalty. So different from Enlennd. “Like what happened in Zyntar.”

  Emry almost asked who the Torqs were, but Sabine shook her head. “I personally have been looking into this. The Torqs have not been near the borders.”

  Her assignment with the merchants … it wasn’t just about taxes, then. They were watching the movements of these Torqs.

  “Thank you, sunflower.” The woman nodded.

  Sabine’s eyes softened. “I am sorry about your nephew.”

  “Kind of you to acknowledge my misfortune.” The woman placed a hand over her heart before she gave the formal Heerth farewell, “May the sun set brightly upon your soul.” She retrieved her goods from the merchant, and with one final nod to Sabine and Emry, she departed.

  Emry quickly purchased the bolt of fabric, paying the additional fee to have it delivered to the Acoba palace. Sabine stayed silent until they’d left the merchant’s stall. Without discussing it, they both headed out of the textile district, wandering back toward the palace. When Emry could no longer hold in her questions, she asked, “Who are the Torqs?”

  “You’ve encountered some of them,” Sabine answered quietly. “You’ve killed some of them.”

  “I thought those were rebels.” Emry twisted her body to pass a group of teenage girls tittering over a table of jewelry in order to keep up with Sabine.

  “A rebel clan of Heerth,” the Gold replied darkly. “The Torqs reside up north and along the western border, on the outskirts of The Flatlands.”

  “And they wish to rule Heerth?”

  Sabine nodded. “Yes, but they’ve felt this way for generations. For them to act out now is unsettling.”

  “But it doesn’t have anything to do with the disappearances?” Emry watched her friend’s eyes shutter. Apparently, this was a sore subject.

  “It doesn’t seem that way.” Sabine tossed a glance up at the sky. “Come. Trezim is going to throw a fit if he notices we’ve stayed out shopping so long that you miss your blade lesson.”

  “I’ve had to wait on him before.” Emry grunted.

  Her friend flashed her a knowing smile. “Yes, but that was before he brought you here and realized how much he enjoys your company.”

  To stop Emry from voicing the retort that must have been clearly on her face, Sabine linked arms with her once more, both of their bangles tinkling. “I think I’m going to relish this year’s Sun’s Rebirth. Perhaps this year I’ll even stay up to welcome dawn.”

  :::::

  Night’s Crown was the largest holiday of the year in Enlennd, but most especially in Anexia. The longest night of winter was celebrated with family feasts, hot drinks, and dancing around enormous bonfires in the snow once the moon rose and the stars emerged.

  Other regions had their various traditions of revelry. Declan knew from his mother that Kruth was similar to Anexia’s. Yet, no other region lasted all night. No other region waited for the shadows of night to recede into the purples and pinks of dawn. It was one reason why Declan loved Night’s Crown as much as he did.

  He’d heard that Heerth would celebrate until dawn, but for different reasons. Heerths celebrated the days beginning to lengthen again. They even called the holiday something about the sun.

  In his homeland of Anexia, the longest night of the year was cherished. The beauty of the stars and the moon were celebrated all night – until the sun chased them away.

  It was because of Night’s Crown that Declan was back home in his village. After working two weeks straight, after being away for more than six months, he was finally home with his family to celebrate. And it felt great. So much so that it surprised him.

  The months away had kept him so busy that time had passed somewhat quickly. He’d had letters from his parents every other week, and he had responded to most of them. He knew what his family had been up to. Yet, at the garrison, he hadn’t had a lot of down time. It’d been on purpose. The only moments he ever took for himself were with Quinn. She kept his mind from drifting down sad, dark memories, which was exactly what he wanted to avoid.

  This week Quinn was with her own family. Declan could have invited her to come home with him to meet his family, but the idea had made him cringe. Quinn was great, but … he wasn’t there yet. Not with her. Or anyone, really. He wasn’t ready to settle down, even though he was old enough and a few of his friends growing up already had.

  The thought of getting married made him slightly ill. Not just with Quinn – in general. If he were being honest, she didn’t seem to be in any rush either. She’d never once hinted at making what they were more serious. She seemed just as content as he was with keeping things light. Fine by him.

  He’d come home alone to lay around his parents’ house, eat, sleep when he felt like, run through the frosted woods, eat some more, and listen to his sisters bicker over whether or not Erreth’s beau would propose during the festivities of Night’s Crown. Which was exactly what he was doing at the moment, while he stuffed his face at the kitchen table with some of the pastries his sisters were baking.

  Night’s Crown was tomorrow evening. Declan’s father, Levric, was at his forge – safely avoiding all the female chatter that was enveloping Declan. He had half a mind to join Levric, but the pastries were delicious. Far better than anything he’d consumed at the garrison.

  “Why would Fisk have gone all the way to Pritchl to visit his grandmother if not for her band?” Erin demanded from her spot at the counter, rolling out dough and cove
red in flour. Pritchl was the largest city in the Midlands, about a six-day ride from their village. For Fisk to have retrieved his grandmother’s marriage band – the metal band both men and women wore around their left wrists once married – could mean he was preparing for his own wedding.

  “Are you trying to get my hopes up?” Erreth, the youngest of Declan’s older sisters, moaned, pushing back strands of her black hair – the same color Declan shared with all of his sisters. Erreth was sitting across from him at the table, buttering the tops of a pan of rolls that had just come out of the oven. “Watch, nothing will happen tomorrow.”

  “Or, rather, watch and we’ll be right.” Estrid grunted, massaging her swollen stomach with one hand. She was at the sink beside their mother, Llydia. “You’ve been with Fisk for almost a year. If he wasn’t asking you tomorrow, I’d tell you to let him go.”

  Estrid had been married to her own husband for over five years. In two months, Declan would become an uncle. Estrid would be giving him a niece – if the Ruby was to be believed. Only some Rubys had the ability to sense the gender of a baby. Declan hoped Estrid’s Ruby was right, because his mother – the seamstress – had already made the baby about twenty new dresses and something called a “romper”.

  “I think I’d say the same,” Erin agreed with Estrid. That didn’t surprise Declan. Erin had been with her own husband for less than six months before they were married. Almost three years ago.

  “Girls, leave your sister alone,” Llydia chided as she washed dishes. “Erreth can make decisions for herself.”

  “Thank you, Mom.” Erreth smiled.

  “And what about you?” Estrid turned to Declan. “Why didn’t you bring home that girl Mom told us you’ve been seeing from your garrison?”

  “Yes, Quinn was it?” Erreth’s grin shifted into something conspiratorial. She was clearly glad to pass everyone’s attention off from her to Declan.