Shadows and Embers

by Lindsey Richardson

  Once I laid down the man’s striking figure continued to haunt my thoughts. He looked familiar; he seemed like someone I should know, yet no name came to memory. For some reason the only person I could think of was my father. It was impossible for my father to be the one outside of our manor. He had been dead for years now. It was impossible…

  Chapter Seven

  Honor the Name

  “No matter what,” he had said like it was vital to surviving. My father had been the kind of man who left behind a legacy. Except the legacy was not in his son; it was in his own murder.

  At dawn the sky was a light shade of blue with beams of pink breaking through. I knelt by a gravestone labeled “Ewan Irvine.” Over the years the words had become faded; the grass and weeds would cover the years of his lifespan if they were left untouched. Father’s grave was one of numerous. The humans died from diseases and their own bloody wars. How ironic that they be buried among magicians.

  A stick snapped, drawing my attention to the present. The cemetery was empty; the reverend wouldn’t arrive for another few hours. Still kneeling, I turned around slowly to come face to face with a sharp dagger. A man started laughing, and when I looked up I realized it was Malin. I let out a sigh, though I remained motionless. Malin loved his weapons, but I didn’t dare challenge him when he held the dagger.

  Lowering the weapon, Malin chuckled again.

  “I hate you,” I hissed as I stood up and dusted off my pants.

  “Ha, I don’t care what you think!” he bellowed. His voice was loud enough that he might as well have awoken the entire town.

  “Do you have any respect for the dead?” I asked, pointing to the gravestone.

  “I do,” he said more seriously. “The dead do not depart from our lives, but rather they live among us. You are not your father or you would be dead. We must learn to physically live without them.”

  Shaking my head, I replied, “You pity me?”

  I didn’t need his pity. No one knew the man my father had been. Like me, he had lived behind his lies, trying to conceal them with a believable smile.

  “No, pitying is for the hopeless and the weak –neither of which you are. I lost my parents to the war when I was a boy. I became one of the Prince’s servants, and when I was of age to join the war I signed up. Léal,” he cleared his throat and lowered his voice.

  “I’ve lost more people than I can remember. Those losses will never define me, and they should not define you. Live a life; breathe once in a while, little brother.”

  I smiled and shook his hand, and then he embraced me. The dagger fell to the ground, and I nuzzled my head against his broad shoulder. I did not dare risk ruining the moment by inquiring more about his history. Any other time someone had asked he would say, “They’re dead; what’s it to you?” Even so, I desired to let him know that I understood the importance of secrets. No one can outlive their secrets; they are within us, tormenting us.

  “Malin, I should tell you—”

  He cut me off, releasing me from his strong arms. Bending over, he retrieved the dagger and stared at its silver blade.

  “I don’t want to hear it,” he said at last, standing up once more.

  We went our separate ways without any further debate. On my way home I passed through the marketplace and noticed a merchant who was selling jewelry. Having purchased from him before, I was aware of the delicate work in his items. While I glanced over the necklaces I thought about Rahela. A glimmer caught my eye, and I noticed a gold necklace with a heart charm. I took several coins from my vest pocket and handed them to the merchant. In return he placed the necklace in my hand.

  I carried the necklace home, whistling along the way.

  When I entered the house Liliana was laughing. I knew it was her; her laugh was louder than her voice. There was only one person who made her laugh like that, and I gulped at the realization that he was here.

  “Enric?” I called out, stepping into the first room and realizing it was empty.

  “We’re in the kitchen!” he shouted.

  I turned around and walked to the kitchen. It was larger than most other kitchens, seeing as we usually had company over. These days that was rare with Mama’s condition.

  Enric stood, leaning over the table with a slice of bread shoved in his mouth. He waved at me as he hurriedly swallowed the food. Liliana, on the other hand, made no attempt to work. She stared at Enric, admiring him as she always did. He was a decent-looking man, though his nose was long and thin. Since I was not of age yet, my father had left Enric in charge of the printing press until I turned eighteen.

  “This bread,” he said while chewing, “is delicious.”

  “It’s rather early; had I known you were coming, I would have had breakfast set on the table,” I replied. In truth it was too early for Enric to be visiting, and I had no intentions of asking him to stay.

  Enric turned to Liliana. “Well go on; you heard the man!”

  Liliana nodded eagerly while I held back objections. Now it would be impossible to convince him to leave.

  “Come on, my boy, let’s sit,” Enric said. He approached me and slapped my back, and then he continued to guide me to the dining room.

  I sat at the front of the long table while he sat at the opposite end. His beady eyes narrowed down on me. If he could see through me he would have a knife against my throat. I was everything that he hated and vice-versa. The hunger in his eyes never faded; the yearning to feed off of his deadly passion never died. I understood entirely; after all, I hated him for the same reasons.

  Tapping his finger on the table, Enric said, “Ewan left me in charge of his business so that when I feel you’re ready, you can take your rightful place.”

  Dear god, not this again… All the while he talked I wondered how long of a speech he had planned out. I didn’t need a reminder of the work my father left behind. Business was a part of who we Irvine men were, whether that required getting our hands dirty or not.

  “Have you listened to a word I’ve said?” Enric asked, interrupting my thoughts.

  “It was something about the company, correct?” I replied with a grin.

  Enric glared and said coldly, “I hope you have no plans for today. You’re coming with me to prove you are the man Ewan said you would become.”

  A man without magic? I held back any sly remarks that crossed my mind and grunted. Liliana entered the room with breakfast, but my appetite died along with my pride. I was not a man if I led a false life. The only place I felt belonged was with Destin. Now I understood why Esmour taught us “the battle is never won.” Even in the safety of my own home the magical world did not leave. The humans were as judgmental as the White magicians.

  We sat in silence; I watched him stuff his mouth with food. I managed to pick at a piece of bread, but I couldn’t eat anything. Quietly, I felt for the necklace in my pocket. It remained there, but now there was no telling when I could deliver it to Rahela.

  While chewing on a sausage Enric grumbled, “I know exactly who you are.”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  My heart skipped a beat. I scanned the room for the quickest exit strategy. Touching the sleeve of my tunic, I felt for my dagger. I stared at him helplessly, remembering I had left the dagger in my bedroom. He licked his lips, and I was nothing more but a deer in his eyes.

  More casually he said, “I know who are, and if it wasn’t for my wife you’d be dead now. No more of this trickery. Do I make myself clear?”

  I stood up, pushing back the chair, and extended my hand out to him. The anger was pumping through my veins, filling my blood with an overload of adrenalin. Then Enric stood up, withdrawing a long sword from his belt. Everything in my mind screamed and begged for me to reconsider, but I wouldn’t allow this man to harass me. If he knew who I was, then his actions were foolish.

  Twisting my hand, I cast a spell and sent Enric flying back into the wall. A picture fell, nearly hitting him on the head, but he stood up. I advance
d toward him, trying to think of quieter spells that wouldn’t draw attention to us. He ran toward me with the sword aiming for my heart. I counted the seconds before impact.

  Five, four, three…

  Casting another spell, I watched as he landed on the ground. He let out a cry, but it would take more than the fall to seriously injure him. I had no intentions of killing him, though he deserved it. Simply enough I wanted to show him who was in control.

  Enric gripped onto his weapon and aimed once more, but this time I snatched it from him. When I glanced at the sword it looked rusted and much older than him. Perhaps that explained his lack of skill.

  “No please…” he whined with wide eyes. He was nearly in tears now.

  I lowered the weapon to his throat, and then I knelt down and held out my free hand. Whispering quietly, I watched Enric’s expression as my hand illuminated with a blue glow.

  “You know nothing about me or my family. Never enter this house again if you dare to threaten me. Do I make myself clear?” I hissed.

  Staring at the sword’s blade, Enric whispered, “Yes… crystal clear.”

  A new voice entered the room.

  “Léal?”

  Both Enric and I turned our heads. Mama stood in her robe with her hand against her chest. I dropped the sword without a second thought, but then I gazed down at my hand. The warmth in my cheeks dissolved as I clenched my hand into a fist. All of the excuses in the world could never make up for the secret I kept for twelve years.

  “Mama, let me explain,” I said as I stood up. I offered my hand to Enric, but he shook his head and remained on the floor.

  “Explain what? Why you stay out late at nights, why you have no respect for the life your father and I have made for you or who in God’s name are you? You are no son of mine if you have betrayed me like this,” she snapped.

  I shuddered, feeling a single teardrop leak down my cheek.

  “Come back when you can honor the Irvine name,” she said. Then she folded her arms and waited.

  With my eyes on the ground, I slowly left the room and headed for the door. There was nothing in this home for me, and once I stepped outside I felt like less of a stranger. As I pushed my way past locals who were just starting to crowd the street, someone bumped into me. The man gave me a note and then ran away. When I opened the folded paper it said, “You’re cordially invited.” It was time for a celebration, or so Esmour thought, but I planned on arriving with one of my many masks. After the events of today, wearing a mask sounded like the only sane thing to do.

  Chapter Eight

  Two Hearts

  Rule one: never dance with a weapon. It seems like common sense, but I’ve danced before with a dagger in my boot or against my arm. That sort of thing you never do twice.

  In the backyard of Esmour’s house everyone was gathered together. He had requested we leave our weapons inside. No one looked surprised that Esmour was hosting this event. The women had fancied themselves into their finest evening gowns. I had been waiting for over two hours for people to arrive. None of the ordinary townspeople had been invited. I did notice several men I did not recognize, but Esmour introduced them as the constable’s men.

  The sun shone down on new and familiar faces. Everyone in Destin was present. The music hasn’t begun, thus most of the women stayed in the shade. Meanwhile the men crowded around a table full with food and wine. I watched from a distance. Mama’s words sunk in further with each passing minute.

  “Where have you been? Are you hiding?” Alaire asked.

  I blinked and realized he was standing in front of me.

  “How long have you been staring at me?” I responded.

  “Not nearly long enough. You forgot to meet me today, and you’ve shown up to a dance without a woman by your side. Has something happened?” his eyes looked over my body like my body language would reveal everything.

  I swore under my breath, having entirely forgotten that we had planned to meet in the cemetery.

  In a whisper I said, “Rosebelle found out the truth today.”

  Alaire’s jaw dropped.

  “I’m sorry, my friend. Do you need somewhere to stay for a while? I can arrange something with Jacquette,” he offered.

  “Ha, can you imagine Jacquette saying yes? I’m fine thank you,” I said, feeling somewhat relieved. Alaire didn’t judge the problems I faced, and if he did it was done in the privacy of his home. I patted him on the back and then made my way toward the wine and cider.

  As I started on the first cup something white caught my eye. It was Rahela in yet another white dress. This one was long and tight around her slender figure. Blue embroideries covered the neckline. Her hair hung loosely over her shoulders, appearing perfectly curled. She was brighter than the sun; she stood out more than the stars in the night’s sky.

  “You’re drooling again,” Alaire whispered in my ear.

  Ignoring him, I advanced to her and took her hand. I kissed it and then said, “Hello, I am Léal Irvine.”

  Oh no, maybe Alaire had not warned me soon enough. Did I just introduce myself to her?

  “I already know your name,” Rahela replied, giggling.

  I was a humiliation. The ladies weren’t supposed to laugh at me. While I tried to think of a response some of the men laughed as well.

  Shrugging, I grinned widely and tried again.

  “Yes, and it is not every day that I ask a lady such as yourself to be my partner,” I said.

  She tilted her head. “We already are partners…”

  Alaire burst into laughter, sounding like he might choke. Someone else laughed along with him, though I was certain it was Malin. After the morning I had, I was in no mood to further humiliate myself.

  “Would you care to dance with me?” I asked. I still held onto her hand and made a gesture for us to move.

  “Is this how you win over every girl?”

  Malin spoke up. “He’s lucky if he wins any girl at this rate!”

  The men returned to laughing.

  It took all my strength to ignore them. Instead I answered with, “If you say no, there are plenty of other women who would gladly have me.”

  At last Rahela agreed, and we left Malin and Alaire to their mockery. The music began, and I led Rahela to an empty space in the yard. I wrapped one arm around her waist, and with the other I held her hand. She swayed gracefully, moving as peacefully as the music sounded. Others joined us including Alaire and Jacquette. I frowned, noticing Alaire’s sudden change in mood. He kept shaking his head at something Jacquette was saying.

  “I’ve heard the stories about him,” Rahela said.

  I glanced down at her, though her eyes were focused on Alaire.

  “About Hunter? Those aren’t stories; it is a part of who he is,” I said carefully. Alaire’s dangerous past was not a subject Rahela would be able to stomach. Instead I reached for my pocket and withdrew the necklace. Since she had stopped dancing, I unclipped it and fit around her neck.

  “What have I done to earn this?” she asked, touching my arm just as I clipped the clasp.

  I caressed the heart charm with my thumb.

  “This may only be a charm for now, but someday it could be two hearts beating as one,” I replied.

  A new song started, and we joined together once more. I twirled her around smiling at the light that shined in her eyes. When she spun back into my arms I considered telling her about the destin ring. Everyone was wearing one, including myself, but if I mentioned it now it could ruin everything. After our next mission it would be hers for the keeping.

  While I should have felt some kind of guilt, I couldn’t when everything seemed to be falling into place. Malin had joined Nicia for the dance, Esmour was talking with his guests, and Alaire…. My eyes darted across the yard for a sign of him. Then I recognized Jacquette’s red dress; she was entering into the house. Her feet dragged against the grass as if she was being forced inside.

  “Stay here,” I said quickly to Rah
ela. “I need to check something.”

  Kissing her hand once more, I ran toward the house. Fortunately everyone else was too preoccupied to notice my haste. Once I entered inside I crouched behind a bench. Jacquette’s voice carried, though it sounded like they were in the kitchen. I glanced back briefly to make sure no one else had followed, but Rahela was kneeling beside me. I raised my index finger to my lips and then focused in on the conversation.

  “Ever since that battle with the other men you’ve been…distant,” Jacquette hissed.

  Alaire slammed his fist on something.

  “I cannot expect for you to understand,” he replied, sounding angrier than her.

  “Do I have to be worried? I haven’t forgotten the times you came home with blood on your hands, being responsible for another death.” Her voice cracked.

  Someone gasped.

  “Did you hear that? Is someone here?” Jacquette cried.

  I turned back to Rahela and covered her mouth. Her face turned white like flour.

  Alaire responded, “All I hear is your accusations. Hunter is dead; I’m not that man anymore.”

  “Good because he’s not invited to our wedding,” she said. Her heels clicked against the wooden floor, but she did not return to the celebration. The other door slammed shut.

  Alaire growled, and then next was the sound of glass breaking. Rahela trembled in my arms. Our only hope of escaping was through the door closest to us. If Alaire saw us there was no telling what he would do. Without another thought, I grabbed Rahela’s hand, stood up, and opened the door. We ran past the guests and musicians until we were certain it was safe.

  “Did Hunter ever die?” Rahela asked, panting.