Cast in Secrets and Shadow

by Andrea Robertson

  Joar and Teth both nodded.

  Lahvja closed her eyes. “So be it.”

  When they finished their meal, Lahvja excused herself to return to the healer’s home to sit with Nimhea, and Joar announced his intention to hunt, leaving Ara and Teth alone at the table. They sat in silence for several moments, then Teth reached out and covered her hand with his. Ara clasped his fingers briefly, then pulled her hand away.

  He watched her with a slight frown. “I can tell you’re upset. A lot has happened. Do you want to talk about it?”

  Words caught in Ara’s throat. What could she say? Her feelings were a tangle of guilt for what had happened to Nimhea and the longing to be close to Teth again. The knot around her heart was so tight the sharpest blade couldn’t cut through it.

  She fumbled with her thoughts until she finally answered, “I’m not ready.”

  Teth’s smile was so kind, Ara could barely hold his gaze. He stood up, then leaned down to brush a kiss across her forehead.

  “I’ll wait,” he murmured.

  17

  Nimhea convalesced in Danik’s home for the better part of the week, never allowing visitors aside from Lahvja. In that time, Joar kept his word and brought fresh game to the village tavern each day, making sure Teth spotted him carrying whatever boar, deer, or fowl he’d hunted. Teth would watch Joar wordlessly, then walk away, shaking his head. Whatever Joar’s motivation, the cooks at the tavern were happy to take the meat.

  Without demanding explanation, Teth adapted to giving Ara the space she needed. He left her to her own devices, making it unnecessary for her to go out of her way to avoid him. She was grateful for his unspoken acceptance. It unburdened her of one unpleasant conversation, but she still faced the impending encounter with Nimhea, which occupied most of her thoughts.

  The night Lahvja announced over dinner that Nimhea would be ready to depart the next day, Teth surprised Ara by taking her aside after bidding the others good night.

  “I know you’ve been worried about Nimhea,” he said. “And I wanted to respect that, but seeing as she’s ready to travel now, I thought I’d remind you that this is our last opportunity to brave the springs.”

  Ara stared at him, unable to speak. His interpretation of her aloofness was rooted in some truth—she was worried about Nimhea—but he had no idea of the other feelings that troubled her. All having to do with him.

  He moved close, brushing his lips against her cheek. Desire curled within her, but her body remained rigid.

  “Or if you don’t want to trouble the snakes,” he continued, “I could come to your room.”

  He kissed her, a gentle, caressing kiss. Heat bloomed over the surface of her skin, but she couldn’t respond the way he wanted.

  Teth pulled back, frowning. “Is something wrong?”

  “Teth.” She disentangled herself from his arms. “Something happened . . . I haven’t told you . . . I haven’t told anyone.”

  The furrow in his brow deepened. “What?”

  Ara’s heart rammed against her rib cage. Getting the words out caused her physical pain. “When I came back, you, Nimhea, and Joar were fighting the creature.”

  He nodded.

  “I heard you cry out.” Her voice was thick. “And I ran to you.”

  She squeezed her eyes shut against the memory, hating it. “Nimhea shouted for me to stop. She and Joar needed my help, but all I could think about was getting to you. I only cared about helping you.”

  Forcing herself to look at him, she found Teth watching her with wide eyes.

  “Nimhea fell while I was looking for you.” Ara’s body was shaking. “That thing slashed her face, almost took her eye, while I was gone. She begged for my help, but I ignored her. I can’t forgive myself. I don’t think she’ll ever forgive me.”

  “Ara.” His voice was soft. “Ara.”

  He rested his hand on her cheek. “You made a hard choice. An impossible choice. I’m so sorry you had to do that.”

  After pausing for several heartbeats, he drew a long breath, looking deep into her eyes. “But I would have made the same choice.”

  “Teth—” He didn’t understand.

  “Because I’m falling in love with you.”

  The words struck her like a blow. She could feel cracks spreading along her breastbone, the brittleness of the bone itself, ready to splinter. Ready to spear her a thousand times and more.

  “I can’t,” she whispered.

  Teth pulled back, searching her face.

  “How I feel . . .” Ara couldn’t bear this.

  But I have to. I have to.

  She could still hear Nimhea’s scream. The agony of it.

  “I can’t choose you over another Loreknight,” she said. “Don’t you see?”

  His hand dropped to his side, and his face blanched. “No.”

  “I’m the Loresmith.” Ara couldn’t stop now. If she did, she’d never find the strength to finish. “I’m responsible for all the Loreknights. I must lead all the Loreknights. And I must lead them equally. When Joar took up StormSong and defeated that creature in the swamp, I felt the bond between Loresmith and Loreknight, the same bond I have with you.”

  Teth shifted his weight, her words obviously making him uncomfortable.

  Ara bit her lip. She was doing a terrible job of explaining herself. “I don’t mean that what I feel for Joar is what I feel for you, personally; that’s something completely different.”

  He relaxed a little, making an attempt at a smile. “Well, that’s a relief.”

  She felt her resolve waver as she looked as his face, into his amber eyes so full of care for her, but she forced herself to continue. “But that’s what I was worried about when you became the first Loreknight. That I would treat you differently because of my feelings for you. After what happened to Nimhea, I’m sure of it.”

  Teth took a step toward her, reaching for her hands. Ara shook her head.

  “Teth, I’ve been forced to realize that romantic love . . . I don’t think it can be a part of the Loresmith.”

  Teth stared at her as if he were looking into the face of a stranger. “Is that what you really believe?”

  Is it? Ara didn’t know what she believed with any certainty. But she did know the guilt that gnawed at her ceaselessly. She did know that the scene in the swamp played out in her mind over and over, and with each remembrance, she knew she’d failed as the Loresmith. She’d made the wrong choice, and she’d made that choice because of her feelings for Teth.

  She couldn’t bring herself to answer him directly. “We can’t—”

  “Stop.” Teth held up one hand. “Don’t say anything else.”

  She didn’t argue. There was nothing more to be said.

  Ara let him walk away.

  She stood alone on the platform, surrounded by the night song of the jungle.

  The splinters in her chest buried themselves deep.

  * * *

  Dawn had yet to crest the horizon, and Ara expected to be the first at the stables. Instead, she found herself the last to arrive. The horses were saddled, and Joar was tying the last of their belongings onto one of the packhorses. Teth, Lahvja, and Nimhea were nearby, engaged in a lively conversation.

  Ara stopped to watch them. She had passed a miserable night after speaking with Teth, but she’d set a boundary between them that needed to be in place. It was the choice she had to make.

  At least that’s what she kept telling herself.

  Now she approached the second conversation she dreaded.

  “Ara!” Nimhea called, spotting her and coming to meet her.

  The left side of Nimhea’s face was still bandaged, but she otherwise looked in good health.

  Ara readied herself for Nimhea’s outrage.

  Instead, the princess pulled her into a tight embrace. />
  After momentary shock, Ara recovered and asked, “How are you?”

  “Thankful to be alive and out of that swamp,” Nimhea replied. She started to smile, then winced. “I have to learn to smile with only the right side of my face for a while.”

  Ara laughed weakly. She couldn’t understand Nimhea’s affable mood—it was the absolute opposite of what she’d been expecting.

  What if she doesn’t remember?

  Ara hadn’t considered that possibility and wondered what Nimhea did remember of the fight. If Nimhea had forgotten parts of the battle, then only Ara and Teth might know what happened. The thought might have provided a feeling of relief, but it didn’t. Difficult as it may have been, enduring Nimhea’s anger was what Ara felt she deserved. But now she would have to carry her guilt without any chance for forgiveness, unless she filled in the gaps in Nimhea’s memory. But if she did that it would undoubtedly cause the princess more pain.

  I’ve done enough to hurt Nimhea.

  Except . . . what if her memory came back? Nimhea was still healing. She could very well start to remember more details of the fight, and Ara’s choice.

  If that happens, it might be worse if I don’t tell her the truth. She’ll think I’ve been hiding it from her.

  Ara’s stomach churned. She had no idea what to do about her predicament.

  “I’m eager to continue our journey,” Nimhea said, drawing Ara back to the moment.

  “Did Lahvja tell you about Joar?” Ara asked, remembering another potential problem.

  “She did.” Nimhea rolled her shoulders back. “It was a surprise.”

  For the first time since Nimhea greeted Ara, her warm expression faded, and Ara saw something unpleasant flit across the princess’s face. By the next breath it was gone.

  She smiled, this time using only the uninjured side of her face. “You have two Loreknights now. Congratulations, Loresmith.”

  “Thank you.” Ara shifted her weight, uneasy. She wanted to say more, to ask how Nimhea really felt about Joar becoming a Loreknight, but it wasn’t the right time. She didn’t know when it would be.

  Joar joined them. “All is ready. We should be on our way.”

  Ara found Cloud standing next to Dust. Teth was already in the saddle. He didn’t say anything when she approached.

  After she settled onto Cloud’s back, Ara turned to him. “Good morning.”

  She’d decided she wasn’t going to avoid Teth or ignore him despite their unpleasant parting the previous night. Though she’d ended the romantic side of their relationship, Teth was still her companion—and she hoped her friend.

  “Good morning,” he replied. Neither his voice nor his expression conveyed his feelings toward her. His face was unreadable.

  She felt a sudden chill.

  As with Nimhea, Ara had expected hurt or anger from Teth, but the absence of emotion unsettled her deeply.

  Joar and Huntress led them out of the village, taking the narrow road that led north, toward their next goal. She had passed the trial of the Tangle and forged StormSong. They’d won the battle against a horror of an enemy. Lahvja and Nimhea were well again—making their group complete.

  It should have been a triumphant moment.

  But Ara rode amid her companions feeling terribly alone.

  * * *

  The Gash deserved its name. A swath of scorched earth spread before them, wide enough to accommodate an army. Fifteen years earlier, the Vokkans had slashed and burned their way into the Vijerian jungle.

  The jungle fought back with poisoned flora, fevers, and delirium, and in the end it was nature that prevailed. The Vokkans abandoned their project.

  But the Gash remained. Despite the passage of time, nothing had sprouted, leaving the earth blackened and bare. A memorial to the violence that had been done.

  It was the past, but also the future that awaited all of Saetlund should the Loresmith quest fail and Nimhea not be restored to the throne. Vokk the Devourer would never be sated. Only the overthrow of the Vokkan conquerors could save the kingdom, its people, and its very earth.

  Along with that haunting knowledge, the absence of new growth, of even a hint of green among the char made Ara second-guess her decision to come this way.

  All their chatter had ceased when the Gash came into view. Now they stood at its edge, their horses suddenly stomping and skittish. The broad expanse of sky was shocking after so many days in the jungle. Its stark blue glared down at the unnatural scar in the land.

  Ara heard Huntress give a low growl.

  “The animals do not like this place,” Joar said solemnly.

  Neither do I, thought Ara.

  Cloud jostled her in the saddle, and Ara patted the gelding’s neck, trying to soothe him.

  “Lahvja, did you know nothing grew here?”

  Lahvja’s mouth was set in a grim line. “I’ve heard many things about this place, but I did not know what tales were true.”

  Joar nodded. “That is the nature of tales.”

  Gazing at the ground so bereft of life, Ara wanted to go no farther. But to backtrack after having come this far seemed unreasonable.

  As if reading Ara’s mind, Lahvja said, “If we’re going to continue, we should do so. We must set up camp before nightfall.”

  Ara stiffened her spine and put her heels to Cloud. The horse gave a shrill whinny and balked, but she urged him forward, and he pranced out onto the burned soil. The other horses followed, kicking and tossing their heads with unease. Joar and Huntress took up the rear of their group.

  Out of the jungle, they no longer needed to ride single file, but their group stayed in a tight line as they moved ahead one by one, keeping to one side of the Gash. Riding into the center struck Ara as a blatant, foolhardy move, though she couldn’t explain why. All she knew was that her instincts told her to spend as little time in this place as possible. She wished they could push the horses into a gallop, but that would leave Joar behind. He could keep up with their mounts at a walk and even a trot, but nothing faster.

  No one ventured a conversation as they rode. The jungle that edged the Gash was absent the trilling of insects and calls of birds, as if the nothing of the blackened earth had chased all life away.

  Ara called a halt in the late afternoon at a flat stretch of the Gash with a pond nearby. She would have liked to make more progress—everything in her wanted to get out of this place as soon as possible—but she wasn’t going to ignore Lahvja’s admonition that they should set up camp before dark.

  The unsettling quiet shrouded them while they pitched tents and dug a firepit. Joar and Huntress melted into the jungle in search of game for that night’s dinner. Teth had taken a pair of horses to the pond to water them. He returned a few minutes later with a look of disgust on his face.

  “That water is no good.” His nose wrinkled. “Completely stagnant. Smells awful.”

  Ara smarted at his words. She’d picked this spot to camp specifically for the pond, thinking it would be useful to have a nearby source of water. It hurt more than she expected to be wrong.

  Another bad choice. The thought came unbidden, and she batted it away.

  “We have enough water for the horses,” Ara told him.

  “For now,” he muttered, not bothering to meet her gaze.

  Ara hated how flat his voice was, missing all the warmth and cleverness that usually spouted from the thief.

  “Teth—” Ara walked toward him.

  He immediately turned away from her. “I’m going for firewood.”

  Her chest tightened with grief, but the sadness quickly flared into anger.

  How dare he act like this? He’s being selfish. It’s not my fault I’m the Loresmith.

  The last thought was childish, but Ara held on to her anger because it felt better than regret.

  And because
she didn’t know what else to do.

  “What’s wrong with Teth?”

  Ara startled, jumping back. She’d been so focused on Teth that she hadn’t noticed Nimhea approach.

  “Sorry,” Nimhea said. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”

  “You didn’t,” Ara said quickly. She found it difficult to look Nimhea in the eye. “I was just . . .”

  The words trailed off, but Nimhea smiled.

  “You two having a lovers’ spat?”

  With a weak laugh, Ara replied, “Something like that.”

  “Don’t worry about it too much.” Nimhea patted her on the shoulder. “I can’t imagine anything keeping the two of you apart for long.”

  Ara swallowed the sudden jagged lump in her throat.

  Nimhea was watching her with a puzzled look.

  Eager to avoid any more questions about Teth, Ara asked, “How are you feeling?”

  “Sore.” Nimhea lightly touched the bandages on her face. “But Lahvja says I’m healing well. The bandages will come off in another few days.”

  Ara’s jaw clenched. She hoped her emotions weren’t written on her face. The thought of Nimhea scarred, forever changed, sent a wave of guilt crashing over her.

  I have to tell her.

  “Nimhea—”

  “I haven’t told Lahvja this—she’s been so attentive, and I know she wants to be reassuring.” Nimhea spoke quickly, like she was making a confession. What had been a calm demeanor dissolved into a wan mask. “But I’m afraid. What will I look like? You saw the wounds. Tell me how bad it is.”

  It all came rushing back to Ara. Nimhea’s scream. The swamp. The fight. Nimhea lying on the ground, her face ripped open.

  “If Lahvja says you’re healing well . . .” Ara faltered, not knowing how to continue.

  “Please,” Nimhea said. “Tell me the truth.”

  “I think it will be . . . difficult,” Ara told her. “Your wounds were severe.”

  And they’re my fault.

  Nimhea bowed her head and was silent for a moment.

  “Thank you,” she said finally. “I needed to hear that.”