Shadow Dancer

by Macie Cage

  “I left when you were done then listened for when you’d gone to bed again before going in. After that, I used to watch almost every night.”

  Evander sighed, running a hand over his face. “So, if you knew, then why didn’t you say anything?”

  “Because they would have killed you. It’s normal for our personal bodyguards to have secret training rooms and abilities. I didn’t think anything of it for a long time. It wasn’t until recently that I thought there might be something wrong.”

  The fear, the paranoia that Caiden had shown towards him that night. It made sense now. He hadn’t thought about it, hadn’t had the chance. The lack of surprise at his ability was also explained. “Why didn’t you just let me die?” he asked, the weight of the situation settling in.

  “Why didn’t you just kill me?” Caiden countered with a bitter smirk. They lapsed back into silence.

  “So, what now?” Evander finally asked, watching as the Prince looked up at him. “You know everything. I’ll tell you whatever you want. Doesn’t really matter now.”

  “Well, I’m sure not everyone was killed. There has to be people still loyal to me out there, I’m sure they’ll be looking for me.”

  “So will Ansom.”

  “What is Ansom’s ability?” Caiden asked suddenly.

  “Impeccable Aim. That’s what we call it. If he throws anything with the intent to hit… well, it hits.”

  “Your abilities have names?” Evander nodded. “What’s Karen’s called?”

  Evander could feel how his brows raised in surprise, but he supposed that if Caiden had been watching then it was only natural that he knew who the others were. “From the Brink.”

  “Huh. Fitting.” Evander frowned, and Caiden chuckled. “I kind of had firsthand experience with that one.”

  Evander didn’t have the chance to question him further before Caiden asked another question.

  “So, if Ansom always has perfect aim, how did he miss you? I’m pretty sure he was aiming to kill when he threw that knife.”

  Evander shrugged. “It’s possible that he wanted to watch me writhe in agony beforehand.”

  Caiden gave him a disbelieving look. “I’m pretty sure he knows you well enough to know that you’ll keep going unless you’re dead.”

  Evander blinked at the unintentional compliment. “I never really tried it before, but it is possible that I skewed his ability.”

  “How so?”

  Evander let a small smile show as he activated his ability, feeling for the shadows beneath the chair that he sat in. The darkness cast by his own body, the tiny dips and discrepancies in his skin. Then he pulled. The shadows shifted and threaded together, making his form waver. He laid it over himself, the second mass positioned an inch to the right.

  Caiden stared at him for a moment until Evander released it. “Well, here I thought I was seeing things. So Ansom aimed at the wrong place. The heart on your shadow was your shoulder on… well, you.”

  “I wasn’t exactly thinking about it at the time. I just knew he was going to try and kill me. You helped though, I was able to hide most of my actual body behind you, so he couldn’t tell what I’d done from so far away.”

  “And what if he aimed for me?”

  Evander smiled tiredly at him. “I think you underestimate his hatred for me. Besides, without my ability, your escape was hopeless.”

  Caiden hummed in thought for a moment. “So, what is your ability called?”

  “Shadow Dancer.”

  Five

  Month of the Griffin 29, 421 HE

  “Eva, you really need to sit.”

  “Make me,” Evander growled.

  Caiden sighed. “The worst part of that statement is that it would take me absolute minimal effort to accomplish that.”

  “You wouldn’t.”

  “Sit. Down.”

  Evander glared at the man and finally slunk over to the rocking chair that he’d claimed since the day he’d woken up. “Jackass.”

  “That’s no way to talk to a Prince, you know.”

  “King,” Evander idly corrected while Caiden skinned a rabbit. He watched the expert glide of the knife, keeping the skin perfectly intact as he revealed the meat. It was something he’d watched Karen do hundreds of times.

  “Heh. I really don’t want to think of that right now.” Caiden started humming again, tone-deaf as per usual. It wasn’t unpleasant so long as he didn’t try to actually sing. There was something charming about the off-handed tune.

  It had been roughly ten days since he’d woken up and they had fallen into a semblance of a routine. Evander found himself at a loss for the most part. He was going stir crazy, unable to do much more than shuffle to and from the chair and bed. If he did much more than that, the fever would come back.

  Caiden claimed that he was almost cured, though he still insisted on force-feeding him some kind of Gods-awful concoction of crushed herbs every morning. His strength was returning in slow degrees, his control over his arm getting better with each passing day, but he was bored. Bedrest did not agree with him. At all.

  It was odd. Caiden was attentive and careful, helping him through everyday tasks as though he had done such things his whole life. Evander had made a comment and Caiden had just grinned at him.

  “Think of it as my repaying you for fourteen years of taking care of me.”

  Evander had grumbled. Honestly, he wasn’t entirely comfortable being the one taken care of. He’d always been the one taking care of Caiden.

  He sighed and glared at the door. The wind was howling outside with a late summer storm, probably one of the last before the cooler weather started to set in. It was concerning. If Caiden was keeping track of the days since they’d escaped the Castle, then it meant that it was roughly the twenty-ninth in the month of the Griffin. It was the very end of summer, quickly giving way to autumn. They were running out of time.

  Caiden was doing well, hunting and skinning so they would have warm furs and preserving fruits and meats that would keep through the winter. However, they were lacking in supplies to keep much more than a single month’s worth of food.

  They’d found a few heavy quilts in a trunk beneath the bed, but with the two of them it would be a bit of a struggle to keep warm. Especially since neither of them had any other clothes. They could only make so much with the furs that Caiden was attempting to tan.

  They needed to get out of the Kingdom. They needed to find a town or a farm. They needed salt, clothes, sewing supplies, and winter boots, but Evander’s main concern was with what to do when the owner of the cabin came. It looked like a winter hunting cabin. Abandoned in the spring and summer but stocked with thick blankets and built to retain heat? Definitely used in the colder months.

  “Quit worrying about it,” Caiden’s voice rang through his thoughts.

  Evander blinked at him, finding the Prince easily cutting apart the hare. “I wasn’t worrying.”

  “You’re always worrying.”

  Evander glared but when it became apparent that Caiden wasn’t going to continue that line of conversation, he sighed. Casting a wary glance at the Prince, he slowly stretched his arms out in front of him. There was a slight pull in his shoulder where the wound was still tender, but otherwise his arm was recovering fine. He didn’t need to wear a sling anymore, at least.

  He relaxed, staring at the small fire that was dancing in the hearth. A fox was roasting on a spit with some water boiling on the side. Caiden was a much better cook than Evander liked to give him credit for. He also had a wide array of skills that Evander never knew of. Cooking, herbalism, healing, hunting, skinning, tanning, fletching, trapping, laundering.

  He switched his focus to the world outside, the sudden quiet signaling the end of the storm. He pushed himself up out of the chair and wandered over to the window, unlatching the wooden shutters and pushing them open.

  The sky was gray and dreary, rain drizzling at an ever-slowing pace. He breathed in deep, the scent o
f the fresh dirt and wet grass refreshing after being cooped up. He heard Caiden sigh behind him and his shoulders slumped, lounging half out the window in a rather undignified pout as he waited for the man to make good on his threat.

  Rather than being physically put to bed, he was handed a basket. Evander stared at it, then looked at Caiden.

  “If you aren’t going to sit, then could you at least go gather some more herbs? We need more mint, yarrow, burdock, and lavender. They’re a bit harder to identify now with the flowers dying, but there are a few in the bottom there that you can compare to. Just don’t go past the stream, the fallen oak, or the meadow.”

  Evander raised an eyebrow at him. “What, are you my mother now?”

  “I didn’t think you had a mother, Eva,” Caiden replied sweetly with a sarcastic smile.

  Evander’s raised eyebrow lowered into a narrow-eyed glare. “Right. Stay in the area, I get it.” He snatched the basket from him and marched out the door.

  It was chilly now with the sun hiding behind the remaining rain clouds. He sighed as he walked, following the lightly trodden path that Caiden usually used.

  It had come up at some point over the last week, his origins. Truth be told, Evander didn’t really know who his parents were, and he’d told Caiden that.

  “But how did you get to the castle then?”

  “I was raised there for as long as I can remember, might’ve been born there for all I know.”

  “How do you not know?”

  “Well, most of the Clan are either taken from their parents as babies or they’re kind of… bred?”

  Caiden stared at him, horrified. “You kidnap children?”

  Evander shrugged. “Not really. They are given up. Left in temples or by roadsides. They would have died within the year if the Clan didn’t pick them up.”

  “But why would they—?”

  “Caiden, every single one of us has magic. We would have been killed before reaching our second year if the mage-hunters passed through. So many were simply… murdered. Personally, I think it’s better to pick them up and give them somewhere to live. Even if it is as assassins.”

  “So, what about you?”

  “I’m pretty sure I was born to two of the Clan members. Malik might have been my father, but I never knew my mother. Or at least, I have no memory of her.”

  “Malik? As in my grandfather’s advisor?”

  Evander nodded. He smiled slightly at the memories that came from that train of thought. The Clan children were all raised communally so that there were no long-lasting attachments between members. After all, if any one of them were found out and executed it would be a mess if their children accidentally outed themselves. Or a spouse.

  However, he remembered a large hand patting his head and a kind, doting smile as he was lifted up and set in a warm lap. “A parent is a parent. No amount of paranoia or forced tradition will ever change that.” He remembered that warm feeling that spread through his very soul at the notion that he was so undoubtedly loved by that man. He was only five when Malik left. The old predecessor, Caiden’s grandfather, left for a small villa to live out the rest of his days and Malik had gone with him. It was the last time anyone ever saw or heard from him. That was when Ansom took over the Clan.

  Evander shook himself out of his thoughts, looking around at the foliage. He frowned, examining the herbs in his basket and starting to wander through the trees, searching for anything similar.

  An hour later he was about ready to throw the basket at Caiden’s head when he got back. He hadn’t found a damn thing and had spent the last twenty minutes trying to figure out if the plant in his hand was lavender, or just a weed that looked like lavender. Or was he looking at yarrow?

  He couldn’t tell what was what. He knew poisons, in fact there was a nice patch of wolf’s bane only a few feet away. He was completely lost as to what medical plants to look for.

  He looked up at the sky, seeing that the sun was starting to set. He slowly stood and dusted off his knees.

  Time to go back. He had never gone this far from the cabin and while he was sure that he could at least find his way back, he didn’t want to do so in the dark. He sighed and rolled his shoulders. Caiden had probably sent him out just to get some fresh air and exercise, knowing he wouldn’t actually find anything. Bastard.

  It was quiet. Very, very quiet. He walked a little faster. Something wasn’t right. An odd yet familiar tingle crawled down his spine and settled uncomfortably in his gut. He strained his hearing, trying to catch anything.

  A twig snapped behind him, and there was the distinctive crunch of a footfall on the dead leaves.

  He bolted, flinging the basket aside in favor of using his arms to help gain momentum. Yells sounded behind him. Whoops and hollers as his pursuers abandoned their stealth. There were at least five of them.

  Evander mentally cursed as he vaulted over a fallen tree, he couldn’t lead them back to Caiden. They weren’t Ansom’s elites nor were they soldiers. Bandits?

  “Eva!”

  He dove to the side without thinking, an arrow streaking past his head close enough to stir his hair. One of the men behind him must have been much faster than he’d thought because the roar of pain was far too close for comfort.

  He skidded to a stop, spinning around as he reached Caiden’s position to see a small handful of people fanning out around them.

  “And to think you were always worried about me getting into trouble.” Caiden chuckled, drawing two swords from his belt and tossing one to Evander.

  “I still worry about you getting into trouble. You should have stayed put.”

  There were four bandits: three men, one woman. They looked average, experienced with their weapons but far from professional. One of them was of a monstrous size, wielding an axe that Evander wanted to stay well clear of. They were outnumbered but Evander didn't want them to find the cabin either. It didn't leave them with much of a choice but to fight.

  The big one charged at them, likely trying to split them apart so they’d be easier to pick off. Had Caiden spent more time training in combat perhaps they would have been able to circumvent the maneuver but as it was, they ended up with the axe-wielder between them. They were still close enough to easily communicate and with a bit of effort they may be able to get rid of the big one.

  Evander quickly reevaluated their chances as the brute brought his axe down against his sword and his shoulder strained. He tilted the weapon away, trying to disengage. He could see Caiden over the bandit’s shoulder, he was keeping his back close to the axe-wielder so the other bandits couldn't get behind him. It was impressive. The Prince had a reaction speed on par with some of the Vladimir Clan’s members. Against three people, he was taking care to keep himself guarded. They didn't have enough room to rush him without getting in each other’s way, but that would only last until the axe-wielder turned around. So it fell to Evander to keep the big guy busy.

  The brute pushed forward, forcing Evander back a step as he deflected one blow then back another as he dodged the next. The bandit grinned as he swung again and Evander jumped back, slamming into the trunk of a tree.

  He cursed, barely getting his sword up in time to catch the blade of the axe, having to brace his sword with his uninjured hand as his sword arm buckled. There was no escape. It was almost a blessing that he was braced against the tree, else he didn't think he could hold up the sheer weight of the man behind the axe. He could try to redirect the blow, but it could, no, would kill him if he failed.

  His arms were outright shaking now, his left hand bloody from where the blade was digging into his palm. He mentally swore, scrambling for some sort of plan, some kind of escape— He blinked. He could do that.

  Caiden’s back was too him but Evander could see the frequent glances that the Prince was throwing towards him. He couldn't help without leaving himself exposed to the other three bandits.

  “Caiden!” Evander shouted.

  “Yeah?” came the gro
und out reply as the Prince blocked a blow and shoved the bandit back.

  “Tag out.”

  Caiden spared him a quick glance, confused, and then Evander grinned as understanding seemed to dawn on the man.

  Evander sighed, watching Caiden and one of the soldiers spar. The trainee was around the same age as the Prince, if not a bit older, with Caiden being thirteen. Sir Michael stood next to him, arms crossed over his barrel chest.

  “Begin!” the shout rang in Evander’s ears, but his attention was on the pair in the middle of the training grounds.

  He knew Caiden hated fighting. He wasn't the greatest at it and he refused to practice enough to get better. In a real fight, he’d be dead in half a heartbeat. At least that’s what he’d thought.

  Caiden had good instincts. He knew when to block and dodge but he didn't quite have the timing down to make a nice hit. The trainee was a proud young greenhorn who clearly had it in his head that beating Caiden would make him look good.

  After a few strikes it was clear that the brat was holding back enough to keep the Prince from losing, but it was bordering on bullying. He was practically chasing Caiden around the circle, hitting hard enough to hurt but not hard enough for Sir Michael to call him out. However, Caiden wasn't yielding. He was taking the beating and refusing to give in.

  Evander looked up at Sir Michael as the knight’s hand landed heavily upon his shoulder. “Tag out.”

  Evander gave a nod and inconspicuously picked up a pair of short swords, positioning himself just to the edge of the ring. At Sir Michael’s nod, he sprinted forward.

  Evander focused on Caiden’s shadow and reached for the shadow of the bandit he was fighting. He’d never tried to use his ability on a shadow that was already touching him, but he didn't have enough time to think about it as the brute drew back a fraction only to throw the entirety of his weight into the blow.