Reign of Shadows

by Sophie Jordan

  A quick peek over the hill again had me ducking down. A soldier was headed up the hill, his expression drawn tight. I dragged her down, rushing us into a thick shrub of prickly bramble that surrounded an old gnarled oak tree.

  “What are you—”

  “Quiet,” I growled into her ear. “A soldier.”

  I forced us into the stabbing vines, ignoring the gouging thorns tearing at every exposed inch of skin. She sucked in a pained breath. I pushed her deeper into the hedge, girding myself against a thick thorn carving a hole in my neck. Blood trickled down my throat beneath my collar, but I uttered no sound.

  I folded my body around her, shielding her as much as I could. We felt as one, no part of us not connected. She trembled, but thankfully held silent. Her breath fanned hotly against my neck in violent little puffs, and then her fingers were there, finding my cut, lightly pressing at the wound as though she could slow the flow of blood.

  I stared, unblinking, through a gap in the bramble and gorse, watching as the soldier crested the hill and took guarded steps down it, his sword drawn and ready. He studied our tracks on the ground.

  I felt her heart pounding against her ribs and directly into me. Or maybe it was my heart. Curled against each other liked two locked pieces of a puzzle, I could not tell where I ended and she began. There was just this. Us. One shared heart. And, if things continued to deteriorate, our joint death.

  The soldier turned in our direction. I loosened a dagger from my boot. He neared our hiding spot, his steps easing cautiously closer. I could no longer see his face, just the scuffed cavalry boots encasing his calves so close now I could see the film of dirt coating them. I adjusted my grip on my dagger, preparing to jump out and thrust it in his heart. From there my only plan was to run—to take Luna and hide.

  Something exploded from the tree behind us, arcing through the air and landing on the soldier in a spitting, hissing ball of fury. We watched him fight off the tree monkey that lunged at him, crying out as its sharp nails scored his face. He flung the creature to the ground and stabbed the reddish brown ball of fur repeatedly with his sword. He didn’t stop there either. His bloodied face twisted wrathfully as he stomped on it, his curses, words I had never even heard, flying.

  “Sangar!” a soldier called from the top of the hill.

  “Coming.” With a final kick for the pulverized carcass, he turned away.

  I watched him stomp away before looking down at Luna. I winced at the sight of her. She was a mess of oozing scratches, the wet crimson an obscenity on her skin.

  “He’s gone.” I barely spoke the words. They were more like a breath against the side of her face.

  She nodded. Awareness swelled inside of me as I eyed her. Felt her curled under me. It had been a long time since I held anyone. Since I felt a girl’s body wrapped up in mine. She felt so small and soft—so very breakable.

  A jarring reminder that everyone broke under the cruelty of this world.

  I pulled back and was rewarded with a fresh thorn to the base of my neck.

  “What’s happening now?” she whispered.

  “Let’s find out.” We extricated ourselves from the gorse, earning new scratches for our trouble, and crawled side by side back up the hill.

  I inched high enough to gain a glimpse down at the tower. “Sivo is talking to them. They’ve forced Perla outside,” I whispered. “Dagne and Madoc, too. Two soldiers are supporting Madoc.”

  A shiver rippled through her, and she bit her lip before saying, “Perla hates the Outside.” Her voice sounded small—almost childlike in its helplessness. “She must be terrified.”

  I watched the scene unfold. The commander pointed at Dagne. Sivo shook his head and waved his hands in the air as though he was trying to pacify Henley. He wasn’t going to have success. I had a flash of memory then, a fractured image of when I was a boy and happened on Henley in the royal kennels, torturing one of the dogs with a riding crop.

  I blinked, chasing the image away, and focused on the present reality.

  Madoc was clearly still in the grips of fever. His head lolled on his shoulders. He could hardly keep his gaze fastened on the group of soldiers. Dagne, on the other hand, looked wholly aware and alert. She stuck close to Perla as if that made her less visible to the eyes of all the men in the company.

  Henley finally had enough. He shook his head as if finished listening to Sivo. He snapped something at his men and one of them stepped forward, grabbing hold of Dagne and pulling her away from Perla. She looked around wildly, crying out when Henley pulled the sword from the scabbard at his waist in one smooth move. She struggled, but the soldier held fast, pushing her forward. The freed blade sang on the wind as it cut through air and swiped down in an arc. Blood sprayed, striking Henley in the face. It happened so quickly, the man’s actions mild and effortless as though he were scratching an itch and not snuffing out a life. As though he was not slicing into a young girl.

  Luna jerked against me as though the sharp edge of steel was cutting into her—leaving me no doubt she was aware of the violence taking place below.

  Dagne dropped to the ground, limp and lifeless. Perla tried to grab her. Madoc cried out. He struggled against the soldiers holding him. It was a weak attempt that didn’t last long. Drained, he bowed his head low and hung between them, shoulders shaking with sobs.

  Air hissed out of my lips. She had done nothing to provoke them. It was an execution. Plain and simple.

  “Is it—”

  “Dagne,” I supplied.

  Luna choked back a sob, her fingers digging into my arm. “Why?” A shudder passed through her. “Why did they kill her?”

  A cold familiar numbness stole over me. “I don’t know.”

  There was no reason to kill the girl, but Henley had. He’d struck her down like she was some disease to be cut out and removed with swift excision.

  Henley pulled a handkerchief out from beneath his tunic and cleaned his face, his movements almost elegant as he wiped away Dagne’s blood as though it were no more than grime from a day’s travel.

  Luna’s voice escaped a fraction too loud: “What of Sivo and Perla? Are they unharmed?”

  One of the soldiers at the edge of the group shifted in his saddle and turned to face the hill where we crouched.

  I dropped flat, shoving Luna several feet down the rise with me. “At the moment, they’re fine,” I growled, “but we won’t be if you don’t lower your voice.”

  She didn’t care. She strained against me, fighting to get up. She was ready to launch herself down the hill.

  I seized her shoulders and turned her, pinning her to the spot. “Stop trying to get yourself killed. They killed Dagne. They won’t hesitate to slaughter us, too. Now wait here and I’ll see what’s happening.”

  I crawled back up and looked down the hill again. Henley pointed a finger in Madoc’s face, questioning him. Madoc gazed at his slain sister, a crumpled and broken life on the ground. His sobs tore through the wood, loud and ugly. As if midlight wasn’t fast fading and this wasn’t the time for silent breaths and swallowed words.

  I glanced around at the encroaching darkness. Madoc’s sounds weren’t going unheard. The dwellers might not be aboveground yet, but they were waiting below, listening.

  The soldiers exchanged uneasy glances. They knew the hour was fading fast and all the noise did not bode well. One dweller, even ten, they could easily dispatch, but Madoc was likely rousing dozens of drones.

  I couldn’t hear Henley’s words from this distance. Sivo nodded once at whatever was said, his features drawn and pale, lips compressed in a flat line. When the commander finished, he turned and mounted his horse, circling his hand once in the air for the men to move out.

  “They’re leaving,” I announced, watching the horses retreat.

  This made even less sense. They killed Dagne and then simply left?

  Before they disappeared entirely from the glen, the commander pulled his mount around to address Sivo. He survey
ed the tower as well, his gaze stretching over its walls and then back down again. He was evaluating it. It would make an excellent outpost. He or others from the capital would be back. Or others from the king would. Everything had changed. Luna and her family were no longer safe here.

  I looked down at Luna, my hand closing around hers. “Come. They’re gone.”

  “Midlight is over,” she announced dully, almost as an afterthought.

  I lifted my face up to the darkness. “So it is.”

  We walked swiftly to the tower. I was still aware of her trembling beside me.

  A movement to the right caught my notice, and I turned, watching as a dweller clawed itself free from the dirt, gray, talon-like fingers churning soil. Its square-like head broke the ground’s surface, the receptors on its face shaking loose dirt as it tasted air.

  I hurried our pace. We’d be inside before the creature could reach us.

  Perla supported Madoc, guiding him to walk. Sivo lifted Dagne’s body in his arms. He looked up as we approached, his shoulders slumping in obvious relief. For the first time I saw him as he perhaps was: a tired, old man. “Luna”—he breathed her name—“you’re safe.”

  Perla squeezed her hands together in prayer. “Heavens be praised.”

  More dwellers stirred the ground behind us. I stepped forward and took over supporting Madoc. “Let’s move inside.”

  Perla glanced around, her eyes rounding in terror. “Yes, of course.” She ushered Luna inside. I followed with Madoc.

  Sivo brought up the rear. He lowered Dagne’s lifeless body to the ground with a grunt and then bolted the tower door behind us. “Wouldn’t be right,” he muttered. “Leaving her out there for the dwellers. I’ll bury her tomorrow.”

  I didn’t bother pointing out that the dwellers would find her either way—buried in the ground or left above. Inhaling, I smelled the faint odor of the soldiers that had invaded this space. Leather, horse, and sweat. Those had been the smells of my childhood. At one time comforting, but now they only reminded me of pain.

  Sivo’s gaze connected with mine, grim and brimming with emotion. Perla’s, Luna’s, and Madoc’s steps shuffled away, fading as they made their way up the stairs.

  “They killed Dagne. They simply struck her down.”

  I nodded. It was senseless. But I knew that violence in these men did not have to make sense, especially when it came from the likes of Henley.

  “They found us,” he declared, looking a little dazed. “More will come.”

  I inhaled a deep breath, knowing this to be true, and knowing I shouldn’t care. I wasn’t supposed to care. What happened to these people . . .

  It changed nothing. I was leaving, and they would have to continue to survive on their own.

  UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE

  HarperCollins Publishers

  ..................................................................

  PERLA DISAPPEARED INTO my bedchamber with Madoc. I took the bag of nisan root to the work table and began tearing the petals and dropping them into a pot of water. I was still shaking, but I had to keep moving. If I stopped I would think about what happened. I’d think about those soldiers. I’d hear that sing of blade on the air and Dagne’s scream.

  If I did that, I would start to cry and I wouldn’t be able to stop. I should have given her more ribbons. A sob welled up in my throat. I should have done that. I should have done more.

  “Luna!” I realized Sivo had been saying my name.

  I nodded jerkily. “Yes. I’m fine.” I continued tearing the nisan into bits. Satisfied that I had enough, I moved the pot to the hearth, brushing past Fowler and hooking it into place so that it could reach a proper boil. I returned to the table and began weaving the herbs onto twine for drying.

  “Can you stop for a moment?” Sivo asked.

  I shook my head. “We need to get this into Madoc.” Considering what had just happened, his will to fight the fever plaguing him was likely low.

  “Well, you’ve set the pot to boil now. The rest can wait.” Sivo’s heavy steps advanced on me anyway. He pulled me away from the table and into his arms. I resisted, but his arms wrapped around me. For the first time, I noticed that his biceps and forearms weren’t like before. When I was younger they reminded me of tree trunks, so solid and strong. Now they were half that size. Somehow over the years they had diminished. I hated this. I hated the evidence of his age and growing frailty.

  I relaxed against Sivo, conscious of Fowler in the room. I could feel his eyes on me. I imagined he thought this display of emotion weak. He wouldn’t succumb like this. He was too hardened.

  Madoc’s sobs floated from my bedchamber and I stiffened in Sivo’s arms.

  “Never thought I’d be happy to have you disobey me,” he said against my hair, his bearded cheek rustling the strands. He meant me sneaking out of the tower. I tried to smile, but the curve of my lips felt brittle and pained.

  I inhaled, smelling the molding stone. This place had hemmed me in all my life, but for once, I was glad for its walls.

  Not that it had saved Dagne.

  I pulled back from Sivo’s embrace. Fowler stood near the hearth, holding his hands out to the fire. I could smell the salt on his warming skin. I suppose he was accustomed to death.

  I sucked in a deep breath, something new occurring to me.

  If Fowler hadn’t come, then I would have been here when those soldiers came. It could have been me instead of Dagne.

  Perhaps he wasn’t as selfish as he claimed. He had led me to the nisan weed, and he had pulled me back on that hilltop when I wanted to charge into that group of men.

  “It’s all right, love.” Sivo’s large hand patted my back. “We will be fine.”

  It was with that assurance that I knew we would not be fine. The tower was no longer hidden. We were no longer hidden.

  Our world had changed.

  I sat near the fire, my hands folded tightly in my lap. It was the only way to keep them from shaking—or hide the fact that they shook at all. I focused on stilling all of me, listening as Madoc’s cries turned to muffled sobs and then nothing at all.

  Perla emerged from the room. “He’s asleep. I put a sleeping draft in with the nisan tea.”

  I envied him the oblivion of sleep. I thought of Dagne below, broken and lifeless right outside the door we never used.

  Except today we had opened the door.

  Perla moved beside my chair, and the earthy musk of herbs and baked bread enveloped me. She rested her thick, chapped palm on my shoulder.

  I reached up to pat her hand.

  “They’ll be back,” Sivo announced.

  “You can’t know that,” Perla objected, a sharp, defensive ring to her voice.

  “They’ve found the tower now. They’ll tell others. Either they’ll be back or someone else will. And that commander . . . he recognized me.”

  “What?” Perla demanded. “Did he say—”

  “He couldn’t place where. He must have been a very young boy when I worked in the palace, but mine isn’t the easiest face to forget.” He was referring to his heavy beard. According to Perla it was ginger bright. “He’ll remember. Eventually.”

  And when he did, he would tell the king that he had seen one of the dead king’s guards. He would send soldiers back based on that alone. I could feel it all unraveling. The safe little world we had built was falling apart, stone by stone. The secret of me, my identity—it was one breath from being exposed.

  Perla moved her hand from my shoulder and crossed the wood floor, sinking into a chair at the table with a rattling sigh.

  Sivo continued, “They’ll do what they did to Dagne to each of us—”

  “Don’t say that!” Emotion shook Perla’s voice.

  A hushed silence fell over the room, the pop and crackle of the fire the only sound. Fowler said nothing. I wondered if he even cared. Sivo was skirting the truth of our identity. He must feel confident that Fowler would not guess. Or
perhaps he simply trusted him.

  I moistened my lips, searching for an answer—a way out of this. A solution didn’t present itself and I had to face the truth. There might not be one.

  We lived in this tower and now those soldiers knew of its existence. They would report what they had found and when the king realized who Sivo was, they would be back.

  “Luna can’t stay here.” Sivo’s announcement was softly worded but no less grim.

  Perla didn’t react at first. No one did. Then she finally snorted. The sound was part laugh, part grunt, but entirely dismissive. She did not take Sivo’s words seriously. “You’re being ridiculous. You want us to leave? I can’t leave this place. I would not survive a day. And Luna? You want her to go out there? How long will she survive? She cannot see, Sivo! No. Our chances are much better here.”

  “I’ve trained her well. She goes.” Sivo’s voice was firm and unyielding. “And I said nothing of us going.”

  My heart pounded in my suddenly too-tight chest. Words hung on my lips, but I could think of nothing to say. To leave the sanctuary of the tower and exist on the Outside was equal parts terrifying and thrilling. To leave Sivo and Perla, however? No. I could never do that.

  I turned my face in the direction of Fowler. He’d made so little sound up to this point that I could almost believe he left the room, if not for the sensation of his eyes on me.

  “You want her to go out there without us?” Perla’s tone left no doubt how absurd she thought that plan was.

  “You said it yourself. You won’t survive.”

  “No! Absolutely not! She stays—”

  “They’ll come back. And when they do, when they discover her, they will kill her. You know that, Perla.” I’d never heard Sivo speak to her in such a way—so hard and final. Usually, he let Perla have her way, but not in this.

  “You know what they can do,” he continued, his words heavy with the implication, with the reminder of who they were. Who I was.

  Perla sucked in a raw breath, and I knew she was remembering, too. They were the king’s men—and he had killed my parents. He was supposed to believe I perished that night, too. If he suspected otherwise . . .