There was that flutter again – that stirring feeling that left her both inspired and distraught, touched that he would award her such praise yet nervous from the apparent expectations. Her knotted stomach left her struggling to maintain her perfect composure.
“And what if I had not accepted your offer?” she asked.
He looked at her askance. “I believe in humility, my lady – but I will not suffer humiliation endlessly. Ample warnings would be given. Multiple attempts would be made. But if you insisted on sowing trouble and taunting us maliciously in return for our well-intentioned efforts, you would find I would not be so lenient.”
Despiris kept her eyes neutrally trained on the cracks between pathway stones. “Fair enough.”
“I am pleased,” he hazarded almost affectionately, “that you made the decision that you did. Aside from sparing us a great deal of inconvenience, I…genuinely desired to make a connection with you. And of course, who wouldn’t wish to claim the honor of unveiling the man – woman – behind the mask? Who wouldn’t wish to go down in history for shining light into the shadows at long last? But it is more than that. I must admit you intrigued me, my lady. And not merely the same way you have intrigued the masses for years. You proclaimed your humanity to me, and I heard you. I was helpless to keep myself from constantly trying to dissect the contradiction – the criminal mastermind with a bleeding heart.”
While she supposed she should be flattered, Despiris felt herself blushing, not sure what she had done to deserve such infatuation. Had she really done anything aside from relating to the hungry and scolding him about whether or not he appreciated the servants who polished his chandeliers every day?
“It was your wit, as well,” the king went on, and she hoped it would stop there. “No one has spoken to me the way you did since Pippa Midwinter. And she, not after I subdued her spirit that one cruel afternoon… Well, that is not entirely true. Lord Mosscrow now and then forgets himself, and speaks his mind with unfortunate candor. But he is a grouchy old goat, still stuck in the dark ages of scolding my eight-year-old likeness.”
They were at the heart of the labyrinth, now – or at least, deep enough within its layers that Despiris was not sure she could find her way back out. Had the king planned it this way? That she would be helpless to excuse herself right as the conversation turned uncomfortably personal?
He was a clever man, she had to admit. Already staying one step ahead of her, handling the enigma in his midst with deftness and poise.
Or perhaps he’d wanted to steal her away from the prying eyes and whispering gossip so she might feel more comfortable. Perhaps he thought she might feel at home in the sequestered corridors that resembled alleyways.
It was hard to say, with him. And not the first time she had suspected him of both cunning and kindness. They could go hand in hand, she supposed. And he did so like to go on about killing two birds with one stone.
He caught her examining him out of the corner of her eye, and a smile quirked his lips. Despiris looked pointedly forward again, measuring her steps to hide the anxious flutter of her heart.
“It would seem that wit is as elusive as it is impetuous, however?” the king teased when she maintained her silence. “Reserved only for special occasions?”
“I may be fond of my opinions, Majesty, but I am also fond of my secrets,” she replied coyly.
Isavor chuckled, not surprised by that response. “Yes, I suppose you would be. Well, I can respect that. This must all be very abrupt, for you. Abrupt and foreign and provisional. You are allowed time, of course. Time to adjust, time to adapt. Time to change your mind. But I do so hope that you don’t. Please, if you find there is anything you need – anything you desire, anything you are lacking, here – make your requests known to me before torching the whole experiment and running back to the shadows?”
Despiris considered a decorative lamppost that stood in the path as they came to a crossroads, trying to maintain her aloofness. “I make no promises, your Majesty. But on the subject of requests, I believe I have already made one known.” She supposed it would have been too much to expect enlightenment regarding her elemental powers. But it couldn’t hurt to ask.
“Tutelage on the mystical arts,” he nodded, making a thoughtful expression. “While I’d hazard that the retinue I’ve gathered around myself these last weeks might teach me a good deal more on the matter than I could ever presume to teach, I’m sure there must be some forbidden bibliography skulking about in the archives, collecting dust and dreaming of resurrection. I shall see what texts I might produce.”
Well. That had been easy. Just like that, Despiris was poised to get her hands on the delectable treat of erstwhile forbidden texts. If for nothing else, her experimental palace stay would be worth it. Even if she didn’t glean anything useful, it was the kind of accomplishment that any Shadhi lived for.
She tried not to let her delight show. Let him think her bored, barely engaged.
And the gifts of enticement would just keep coming.
*
Despiris fell into a rhythm with her studies, and it wasn’t long before one day blurred into the next. Gradually her nocturnal habits transitioned, and she rose with the sun and passed out at night the instant her head hit the pillow. Mental exhaustion was an entirely new kind of exhaustion, leaving her drained in a way she had never quite experienced before.
It was four days after her walk in the gardens with the king that he produced the first tome of mystical leanings, a crumbling old thing entitled Introduction to Alchemy.
“It is going to take time, combing through the old archives,” he said as he offered it to her. “There are entire crypts of forbidden tomes, many of which are unremarkable drivel merely written in the old tongue. But we located this, and I’m confident there will be others. Please understand I entrust this to you under the expectation that it is not to leave the royal estate, and it is for educational purposes only. I cannot presume to know how such tomes might enable those gifted like yourself, and I would not necessarily presume to limit that; however…I do request discretion, whatever your intentions. Do not make me regret humoring these requests.”
Curbing her excitement, Despiris accepted the tome. “Don’t worry, your Majesty,” she said. “I know you harbor a fleet of legendary beasts waiting to correct me should I make one objectionable move.”
Though he looked as if he might object to that interpretation of the situation, he ultimately seemed unable to deny it. Pursing his lips, he inclined his head. “I’ll leave you to it, then.” Clasping his hands behind his back, he swept off toward his next order of business.
Despiris’s gaze trailed after him, her fingers absently tracing the textured cover of the precious gift he had left with her.
“I’m flattered,” Hanzel piped up from the sidelines, never wavering from his dedicated, rigid posture. “I do not think I would have used the term ‘legendary’ to describe myself, but I’m often told I do not give myself enough credit.”
Despiris turned to him. Stoic and silent most of the time, Hanzel had surprised her on several occasions by piping up with some good-natured, cheeky comment. Despite her determination to remain detached from these characters, she was beginning to like him.
“Accustomed to being likened to a beast, however, are you, Hanzel?” she teased.
His lips quirked ever so slightly in amusement. “Well. Naturally.”
Hiding her own small smile, Despiris looked down at the tome in her lap. It was bound in weathered brown leather with an opal-studded sigil at the center of the cover, and delicate metal scrollwork created vine-like motifs in the corners. The title was stamped into the leather and powdered with gold, the sheen of which had become faded and dulled by dust and decay, but still glimmered with forgotten allure when caught by the light.
It was a treasure unto itself, as beautiful as it was shabby, somehow breathtakingly fragile and powerful at once. She handled it delicately, taking pride that the king woul
d not be disappointed leaving such a relic in her care.
Whether or not it remained on palace grounds was a stipulation up for some deliberation.
*
One week turned into two. Two spilled into three. Her lectures and daily court sessions became routine, the palace halls becoming homey and familiar. In her free time she strolled the gardens or sat by the lotus pool and pored over the crumbling old pages of the Introduction to Alchemy. Soon other additions joined her magical bibliography, such titles as History of Runes, Conjure Culture, and Mage Ethics and Etiquette stacking up alongside the first tome. Her chamber became overrun with books, stacks piling up in the windowsill, on the night-tables, on the trunk at the foot of her bed, along the walls…
She consumed information like sustenance, never tiring of brimming her mind with new concepts and ideas.
She began to notice the king watching her more and more as each day passed, distracted from the task before him. She might have been unnerved by his gaze, except she recognized the intensity there as nothing beyond the insatiable curiosity that might have been expected of anyone harboring the Master of the Shadows in their midst.
He was caught in her web, as inevitably as any man.
Lord Mosscrow, in comparison, seemed always to be stalking her with the deepest of suspicions, glowering from behind pillars or staring out of shadowed archways. He had clearly been instructed not to interfere, otherwise Despiris was certain he’d be supervising all of her lectures and tailing her unabashedly through the halls. So she took to flashing smug little smiles at him, knowing she was untouchable as long as she kept up this harmless charade.
But the day came when Despiris recognized the ‘charade’ was becoming a tentative transformation. What had started as an experiment was taking root as something more.
The king seemed to come to the same conclusion.
“Lady Despiris,” he stopped her as everyone was excusing themselves from breakfast one morning. Every soul leaving the table paused at the sound of her name, glancing wonderingly at the king. “Please stay.”
Awkwardly, Despiris waited for the others to snap out of their various reactions of surprise or jealousy or maddening curiosity, and gradually they resigned themselves to their lack of invitation and trickled reluctantly away.
Despiris did not miss Lady Verrikose’s grudging expression, in particular. No doubt the woman had enjoyed her fleeting position as the monarch’s shiniest new pet, and was not keen on surrendering that honor.
Slowly, Despiris lowered herself back into her seat.
Isavor waited until everyone had vacated the room, and then he turned to her. “Thank you for staying. I have a proposition I’d like to run by you.”
A proposition?
“Upon our first meeting, you were candid enough to challenge my effectiveness as a governor of my people, questioning my reach in the kingdom I call my jurisdiction. I mentioned a king struggles to see all of his subjects. That he can’t do it without a team. People who care, and not just…figures hungry for power. It can be difficult to amass such a team. So I would like to inquire… Would you care to be a part of that team?”
Surprise sparkled through her. He wanted her – an infamous crook – as an official part of his retinue? Just like that?
She couldn’t keep her surprise to herself. “You wish me to join your team?”
“Better on my team than conspiring against me,” he reasoned, making no attempt to hide his ulterior motives. “That whole ‘keep your friends close and your enemies closer’ precept presents a great deal of appeal to me, in our situation. Given the choice, who would not prefer to have the Master of the Shadows on his side?”
“If you are asking me to declare my allegiance–”
“I am not.” Isavor ran his fingertip thoughtfully along the rim of his plate. “Merely offering you a position. There are a number of them you might choose from, depending on which you find you are most comfortable with or which fit the interests you are currently most passionate about.”
“Such as?”
“A chair on the board of Humanitarian Affairs, perhaps? Or an ambassador as we reach out to the gifted across the kingdom, spreading awareness of our newly favorable position and recruiting those who would be invaluable assets to the crown. Or maybe you would prefer to stick to your more aloof, cunning talents, and join the elite ranks of my personal spy network?”
A ripple of interest moved through her, and she couldn’t say precisely which suggestion had triggered it.
The king seemed to take it as attraction to the latter. “What do you think, my lady? Could you see yourself as a royal spy?”
21
A Face in the Crowd
“I am the Master of the Shadows – a creature of the night. But do not think for a moment that you are safe from me by day. For what casts shadows better than the sun?”
*
Promising to give the king’s proposition some thought, Despiris dwelt long and hard over the list of available positions he sent over to her chamber. Ultimately, she decided she was most interested in charity and spy work, asking if she might try her hand at both.
And so she was bequeathed a chair on the board of Humanitarian Affairs, and also given a run-of-the-mill trial mission as a royal spy. She found the former gave her that sense of purpose she had been lacking, and the latter granted her the thrilling fix her previous identity still craved.
So both it was, on top of her egregious studies.
She attempted, on several occasions during her free time down by the lotus pool, to further her elemental prowess and manipulate a ripple of water. She had hoped, given all her recent research into the mystical genre, that she might have opened a vein of insight, that her powers might suddenly manifest more easily to her enlightened mind.
Alas, what she had read was either not relevant to her skillset or she simply didn’t understand how to apply it. She supposed she had merely scratched the surface, and couldn’t expect anything miraculous to come of it.
She was tired, anyway. Mentally exhausted from her studies and overworking herself. It never took more than a few attempts before she lost steam and gave up for the day, leaving the swans as masters of the pond.
And where her elemental powers eluded her, her studiousness paid off. She became well versed in matters of diplomacy and the ways of a lady, learning the art of politics and of dance. (She couldn’t help but to compare traditional court dances to the routine she had performed on the rooftops with Clevwrith, however, finding that they paled significantly in comparison). As for her other studies, she began to delve beyond the surface to the real meat of each topic, finding herself engaged more often than flustered. Subject matter shifted from stupefying to enlightening. Her teachers began to like her, praising her progress and becoming excited along with her.
There was nothing like having a student truly invested in your speciality, she supposed.
It was on a rare day off, however, that she finally realized she had perhaps been pushing herself too hard. The first clue was in the fact that she slept past noon. The second, in her success when she sat by the lotus pool that evening, and conjured a ripple on her first try.
Excitement jolted through her as she opened her eyes from her brief meditation and watched the ripple fan out from where she sat, gently lapping at lily pads as it spread across the pond. She had to glance over the ledge to ensure her dress was not trailing in the water, or some such interference that had nothing to do with her mental aptitude.
Goosebumps flurried down her arms as she confirmed she had conjured the ripple from nothing. And so quickly!
She probably had sharpened her psychological dexterity with the slew of stimulation these past weeks, but had merely been too mentally exhausted to stretch it any thinner, push it any further.
She needed no additional encouragement to cut one of her daily lectures in lieu of spending more time in meditation and self-discovery.
By the end of the following week,
she could conjure ripples at will.
*
As she gained experience with humanitarian efforts, Despiris cultivated a secret side project of her own. Having befriended a number of children in the city slums during her shifts distributing meals, she rallied them together for ‘back-alley sessions’ where she identified their various aptitudes and taught them tricks they could turn for a coin or two on busy street corners. Acrobatics, card tricks, music…
It was no magical recipe that would suddenly free them from poverty, but it was something. At the end of the day it left them liberated and with food on the table, and that was more than could be said for most.
The king was happy to let her come and go as she pleased, as long as she wasn’t making off with palace property or causing a stir in the city, but Lord Mosscrow and Lady Verrikose were less easygoing about her freedom, glowering from windows as she slipped through the gates or pursing their lips to restrain their opinions when Despiris turned down evening invitations from the king because she ‘would be indisposed elsewhere’.
She could understand the Lord Advisor’s reservations, given their history, but she found Lady Verrikose’s disapproval to be rather entitled and obnoxious. Who was she to flaunt her opinion on anything Despiris did or didn’t do? She was nothing but a peer to Despiris, and far less of a celebrity where their notable qualities were concerned.
This is my city, Despiris wanted to sneer haughtily whenever she caught that stunningly disapproving gaze judging her departure from behind its pointless, sheer veil. If you don’t like how we run things here, you are free and welcome to return to Rovanda. Not all of us appreciate humoring a sloth at the dinner table, but nobody makes a peep about that.
She supposed the presumptuous attitude stemmed from the fact that Lady Verrikose had been brought on to condemn her. She’d been hired as the expert, fed the ugly ‘criminal’ narrative and been enticed with hero status during recruitment, and to see her quarry given the royal treatment and pardoned as if her wanted status had never meant anything…
Girl of Rooftops and Shadows (The Shadow's Apprentice Book 1) Page 20