Master of Shadows

by E. A. Copen

  “I feel like I owe you an apology,” said Remy after he’d closed the door to the bedroom behind him. She still hadn’t changed out of the bloodstained robe she wore. A big streak of red colored the side of her face, too dark to be makeup. The teacup trembled in her hands until she tightened her grip. “It was never my intention that your sister get hurt.”

  He crossed his arms and remained between the queen and the bedroom doors. “You said you were willing to send her away with the rest of the refugees.”

  She sighed and placed the untouched teacup on the glass tabletop in front of her. “The truth is, I never wanted to do that either. I needed to ensure your cooperation at any cost. As you said, you had no reason to help me.”

  “Well, you did try to hand me over to your dad to be a sacrifice in a spell. Just imagine where you’d be if he’d actually gone through with your plan.”

  “Dead, most likely,” she acknowledged but gave him a hard look anyway. “Whether or not I want to do something often doesn’t matter. I am a queen. I must always choose the needs of my people over the wants of my own heart.”

  He paced away from the door and seated himself on the opposite couch, draping both arms over the back. “What if I took my sister and left? Would you stop me?”

  “Yes.”

  “With force?”

  “Absolutely,” she said without hesitation.

  He smirked. “I don’t buy it. You want me to think you’re a hard woman, but where was the first place you went when the fighting broke out? To defend a little girl. Under all that armor, you’re just as soft as any woman.”

  Remy straightened her posture and pinched the fold of her robe. “I should point out I went to the same place as you. And how do you know I wasn’t there for the monster rather than to protect your sister?”

  He leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees. “Because you kept hitting it, even when you knew it wasn’t doing any good. If I hadn’t shown up when I did, they’d be picking bits of you out of the Nightclaw’s stomach for a burial. You got away without so much as a scar. You’re lucky.” He smirked and looked her up and down. “Be a pity to damage that perfect body of yours.”

  There it was. The rolling eyes, the look of disgust, and they were back to irritated allies. Finn liked it better that way. Having her apologize and thank him was awkward enough that he barely knew what to do. It wasn’t like he made a habit of saving people. He hadn’t even really been there for her. That he’d saved the queen’s life was just a side effect of him showing up for Auryn, just like everything else.

  Remy stood, again checking that her robe was securely closed. “You may have use of the sofa and the room, but I’ve left instructions with the guards to prevent you from leaving. Your party sets out on their journey at first light.”

  “Will you be there to see us off?”

  She hesitated, her movements displaying an unexpected unease at answering the question. “Probably.”

  He arched an eyebrow. “Just probably? Come on, lady. I’m risking my neck for your whole kingdom. You could at least show up and wave as I march off to my death.”

  “No one said anything about dying.”

  “And yet that’s a possibility.” He gestured vaguely toward the door. “You saw that thing. Sending your men into Shadow is practically sending them off to die. I’m a Spellweaver, which gives me some advantages, but I still don’t expect to come back from this, which is why I said we needed to talk. I need to make sure Auryn will be taken care of.”

  Remy sank back onto the edge of the sofa. “What did you have in mind?”

  He swallowed. What he was about to ask was a lot, but then she did owe him. Maybe it was a good thing he’d saved her life. “There’s nothing for us here in Faerie. She needs a family, a good family, that can give her things I never could. But if she gets sent to Earth, they’ll put her in the foster system. She’s too old to have a chance there. You know fae on Earth. You’ve got contacts with this Court of Miracles. You could use those to find her a family.”

  She glanced over at the closed bedroom doors. “It would hardly be fair to leave her to fend for herself, would it? Of course. Consider it done.”

  “Really? That easy? Not even going to leverage it against the debt you owe me?” He grinned. “Very sloppy of you, Queen Remy.”

  She scowled at him. “I’m tired and sore. It should’ve been understood. Don’t try to wiggle your way into getting more out of me. You know that’s how it was meant.”

  “Maybe.” He shrugged. “But it doesn’t seem like a good trade. What if I come back just fine? Then I’ve traded away my debt for nothing. No, if you want that to count as the payoff, I’m going to need a down payment right now.”

  She sighed. “What is it you want? Gold? Jewels? The promise of land?”

  He grinned. “How about we seal the deal with a kiss?”

  Remy fought the urge to immediately decline. Of course that was what he’d ask for. She should’ve known better than to think he had anything other than a one-track mind. Even after all they’d been through so far, he still saw her as nothing more than an object to be won, just like Foxglove and the others. Was there a man anywhere who didn’t think of her that way?

  She should turn him down, make him ask for anything else. But would she really rather part with land and riches than a quick peck on the cheek? He had saved her. That doesn’t mean I should feel obligated to give him anything. I’ve already thanked him. For him to take advantage of this debt... Well, it wasn’t unexpected, but it did leave her with a sour aftertaste. For one split second, while he’d talked about his sister, she’d started to believe he was somehow better than this womanizing image he’d adopted. Maybe it was all an act. That hope had been foolish, and she knew it.

  He sat back, waiting for her answer.

  What did it matter what any of them wanted? No one was ever going to take that into account. Her grandmother had tried to force her to marry into the High Court for her own political gain. Her council wanted her to marry someone from Winter to cement the new alliance and to squash the favoritism she’d shown the Court of Miracles. Foxglove wanted her to fall in love with him and was willing to continue to interject himself in everything she did until he succeeded. Not one of them ever paused long enough to ask her what she wanted.

  What do I want? She didn’t want to marry, that much was for certain, but she also didn’t want to spend her life alone. True, she had Jess as a friend, but Jess could never be her equal, no matter how much they both wished that wasn’t the case. It wasn’t in Jess to challenge Remy on policy. She was just too timid.

  Finn raised his eyebrows. “You’re thinking too hard about this. It’s kinda unnerving and just a little hurtful. I mean, I’m not a frog. I’m not that unattractive, am I?”

  “It’s not that.”

  “I get it. The idea of kissing a Shadow fae disgusts you. We’re practically mortal enemies, even though I saved you.”

  “Saving me does not entitle you to a display of affection,” she snapped.

  He smiled and adjusted his coat. “Ah, I see what this is all about. There is something between you and Foxglove.”

  “There isn’t.” She crossed her arms. “And even if there were, it would have no bearing on this.”

  He shrugged. “No one is forcing you to kiss me. Say no if you don’t want to. Offer me something else of value.”

  She tilted her head back and laughed. “In what world does a kiss have any value? You know I don’t have feelings for you. Why bother?”

  “It has plenty of value to me. And maybe not for the reasons you’d think.”

  Remy considered him for a moment. He wouldn’t be the first man she’d kissed that she didn’t have feelings for. At least he was more attractive than the last man who’d tried that trick with her, and it wasn’t like he wasn’t giving her a choice. That was more than most anyone else had offered her.

  A kiss and it was all over. They were even. Or she could refuse
and he could continue to hold the debt over her head as long as he saw fit, especially since she knew something he didn’t. She’d be accompanying him on his trip into Shadow. With her best swords at his back, and his power guiding them, there was no way they could fail. Therefore, the chances that she would need to fulfil her promise to see Auryn to a safe home were exactly zero, since she would die long before she ever let any harm come to him. Finn was her last hope to save her people from the blight, and he had to survive, even if she didn’t.

  Besides, no one but her would know, and she was in the mood to do anything that would further her independence from Foxglove’s whims. Kissing Finn, even if it meant nothing and no one ever knew, would help her cement in her own mind exactly what she had claimed before, that Foxglove didn’t get to dictate how she spent her time and with whom.

  “Okay,” she said standing. The word felt awkward in her mouth. “But only this once, and you have to swear this is the end of it. If you come back alive, all our debts are paid and we part as equals.”

  Finn shrugged, slapped his palms on his knees and stood. “Sounds good to me.”

  He was standing so close. Too close for her to catch a breath. He was taller than her. To kiss him rather than have him kiss her, she’d have to stand on her tiptoes. What if she lost her balance? That’d make things even more awkward than they already were.

  “What are you waiting for?” There was no hint of irritation or impatience in Finn’s voice. He smirked and his eyes sparkled with genuine amusement. “Did you change your mind already?”

  Come on, Remy. You can do this. You’ve already faced down an impenetrable otherworldly monster today and lived. This is nothing. She swallowed the fluttering nerves in her throat, grabbed him by his coat, lifted herself onto her tip toes and pressed her lips to his.

  At first, she thought she’d made a terrible mistake. He almost seemed to flinch away, as if he hadn’t believed she’d actually do it. She had expected him to grab her and try to turn the quick kiss into a more passionate affair, maybe even to grope her. At the very least, he should’ve tried to kiss her back. Instead, he seemed genuinely shocked by the development, which only served to irritate her. Wasn’t he the one who’d proposed it in the first place?

  Before he could change his mind, she let go of his coat and pulled away. “There,” she said taking two steps back. “Our bargain is struck.”

  He said nothing.

  She stood there awkwardly for a long moment, waiting for him to make one of his smart remarks, to insult or comment, but Finn made no indication that he understood language, let alone possessed the ability to use it.

  Remy sighed and turned away. “Goodnight, Finn,” she said and went into the bedroom to get some much-needed sleep.

  Chapter Eight

  Sir Ethan Foxglove swung his sword in the practice yard, slicing through the straw target with ease.

  The voice of his long-dead mentor echoed in his mind as he wiped sweat from his forehead. “Good for you. You sure taught that straw dummy a lesson. Now hit something that can fight back.”

  Sir William had been a prickly person who didn’t warm to many. As Titania’s Summer Knight, that was a personality he’d needed to survive. When Foxglove first came to Summer from the High Court, he was little more than a pompous boy full of self-pity and anger. He’d never even held a sword, much less swung it in defense of another. It was a wonder William had managed to teach him anything.

  And now Sir William was dead, killed by his own student. When he closed his eyes, Foxglove could still see his mentor’s surprised face and feel the weight of his sword as he thrust it up into Sir William’s body. Sir William had been fighting with a poisoned blade that day—unbeknownst to him—and the fight had claimed Foxglove’s life as well until Remy stepped in and used her magic to save him.

  He thrust his sword into the chest of another straw dummy. Remy. That’s what everything he did went back to, wasn’t it? Every thought, every action, every drop of blood shed in the last fifteen years had something to do with this woman who couldn’t love him back.

  Another thrust, parry, slash, a low sweep. If only everything came as easy to him as the sword.

  “Sir?”

  Foxglove lowered his sword and pushed up the blindfold. The practice yard was still dark, but the palace was more well-lit than usual. Inside, Sir Malcom and his men would be arranging the bodies and tending to the injured while the servants cleaned up the bloody mess. Tomorrow, someone would call masons and woodworkers to come to repair the palace. By the time Foxglove and the rest of the party returned from their mission into Shadow, there would be no sign of the battle that had claimed the lives of a dozen fae.

  He dropped his focus from the glowing summer palace to the man who’d interrupted him. Declan was short for a full-grown fae, short enough that most of the women at court were several inches taller. That, combined with the thick cheeks and stocky build, made people underestimate him as a soldier. Though he was useless with a sword, Declan was a crack shot with his bow. The lad had the heart of a lion and the worst timing imaginable.

  Foxglove sighed and pulled the blindfold off. “Shouldn’t you be asleep? You’re to set off with us at first light.”

  Declan shook his head. “Can’t sleep. I can’t stop thinking about that thing.”

  “I understand. I imagine most everyone is pretty shaken by the attack.”

  “It’s not that.” Declan stepped closer, fidgeting with his hands. “I mean, it is disturbing, yes, but that’s not what’s on my mind. No one seems to know how the creature got inside.”

  Foxglove shrugged and went to place the sword back in the weapons rack. “I assumed it’d used magic to get in. It certainly seemed like that sort of thing.”

  “That’s just the thing. The castle is warded against any hostile entities. Even if it was somehow able to get through the wards, some of them should have alerted the guard. Besides, it was clearly a corporeal being unable to pass through walls and doors. It ripped the throne room doors from their hinges.”

  Foxglove paused. Declan was right, wasn’t he? He glanced at the lad over his shoulder. “The front gate. Who was manning it?”

  “I already checked,” Declan said, nodding. “Zinnia and Aster were on the roster. Zinnia was killed just outside the throne room, a long way from his post. Aster slept through the whole thing. When I asked him about it, he said the duty commander told them there’d been a change in shifts.”

  There were only two people aside from the queen who could order a change in the guard duty roster on such short notice, and Foxglove was one of them. He knew he hadn’t done it, which left Sir Malcom. “Have you spoken to Sir Malcom about why the change was made?”

  “He denies making the change.”

  “Well, that makes no sense.” Foxglove stepped away from the weapons rack and went to the trough nearby to work the pump. Icy water flowed into the wooden trough. He gathered some of it in his cupped hands and used it to clean the sweat from his face. “I’ll speak to the duty commander and verify who made the change.”

  “He’s dead, sir. By all accounts, the front gate was left unguarded.”

  That was convenient, wasn’t it? Someone had changed the roster to leave them open to attack, but everyone who knew who was dead. Being a full-blooded fae, Sir Malcom couldn’t lie, so he was out. Besides, Sir Malcom had never been anything but loyal to the queen since her ascension.

  He stood, drying his hands on his cotton shirt. “Even if there were no guards, someone opened the gate for it. The gatehouse isn’t so out of the way that no one could have seen anything. Surely someone saw an unusual person lurking about and reported it.”

  Declan resumed fidgeting with his hands and refused to meet Foxglove’s gaze.

  “What is it Declan?”

  The young man shrugged. “I was supposed to be on hall duty. My rounds would’ve taken me right past that except... Well, hall duty is awfully boring and nothing ever happens. With us leaving
tomorrow and the possibility that we might not return, I wanted to see Jessica.” He mumbled his next sentence so Foxglove couldn’t understand.

  He crossed his arms. “Speak up. I didn’t hear you.”

  Declan glanced up. “We were fooling around in the armory, sir.”

  Foxglove finally understood. The armory was right near the gatehouse. It would’ve been impossible for someone to make their way up the stairs to open the gate without walking right by the armory door, which gave a prime view of the stairway. It would take absolute silence to sneak by the door without having your footsteps echo around. Half the soldiers had used the location at one point or another for their illicit affairs with maids, cooks, and various handmaidens over the years for exactly that reason. The acoustics provided ample warning of anyone approaching, plenty of time to get your pants up anyway. The poor lad was more afraid of getting in trouble for shirking his duties than anything.

  He uncrossed his arms. “We’ll deal with you abandoning your post later. First, tell me who you saw.”

  Declan scanned the empty courtyard before leaning in closer, cupping one hand to his mouth. “Advisor Cian walked right in on us, sir. Once he saw we were there, he rushed off, very upset. I returned to my duties after that, but maybe he came back.”

  Cian. Foxglove gritted his teeth. The fool had been irritating everyone lately. He had no idea why Remy kept him so close. He was a poor advisor, mostly because he cared more about kissing up to the High Court than Summer itself. Even so, it would be a stretch for Cian to betray Summer to enemies from Shadow.

  Foxglove stepped away from Declan to retrieve his jacket from where he’d hung it on a post. He shrugged it on and buttoned it to the collar. “Come, Declan. Since neither of us can sleep, it’s a perfect time to confront a traitor.”

  They gathered a small company of guards, choosing from only those who weren’t assisting with the clean up efforts. Foxglove didn’t want to rob Sir Malcom of any men. With six guards and Declan at his back, Foxglove ascended the stairs to the advisor wing of the palace. Here, the advisors to the throne kept their apartments and slept comfortably under guard. Foxglove tightened his fists as they walked. How long had Cian been living comfortably, guarded as he plotted the downfall of his own court? Every minute was a minute too long. Twelve men—good men—had died already, and Remy had nearly gotten killed as well. He’d have Cian’s head for this.