Sisters of Shadow and Light

by Sara B. Larson

  “She did nothing, Master,” Halvor added again. I didn’t miss the brief glance over his shoulder, toward where Inara and I stood. Did he think Inara was responsible?

  “Some scholar you are, if you weren’t even aware of the capabilities of this hedge,” my mother scoffed. “Surely the stories of others’ failed attempts to break through had to have reached you at some point on your pointless quest?”

  Rather than responding, the older man merely howled, “What did you do to me?” from the other side of the hedge.

  “You did this to yourself. Go to the village, they will help you.” Mother finally released Halvor.

  He rubbed at the spot on his arm where her fingers had dug into his flesh. “We heard rumors about a hedge as big as a wall. But we didn’t know it was dangerous. Or capable of … ah, movement.” Another furtive glance at Inara.

  “It burns,” Master Barloc moaned.

  “Ask for Gina at the inn, she can help you. But you must hurry if you wish to stop the poison in time.”

  “It’s poisonous?” Halvor had inched forward, as though he wished to assist his master somehow, but abruptly stopped, staring at the hedge with newfound fear, and instead took a step backward toward the citadel.

  Inara’s grip on my hand grew tighter and tighter throughout their exchange and she’d begun to shake her head and murmur. “It’s … it’s coming … no, no. Five. Four. Three … Three, two … no, please…”

  I squeezed back, only half-aware of Master Barloc’s continued threats, as my focus was pulled to my sister. “Fight it, Nara. Stay with me.”

  The whites of her eyes were visible all around her blue-fire irises.

  “Stay with me,” I whispered, even as she pulled her hand from mine and backed up.

  “No … no, no, no…” Inara grabbed at her hair, her fists clenched against her temples.

  “What’s happening? Is she all right?” Halvor turned from the hedge to us, his gaze immediately drawn to Inara.

  “Ssh,” I murmured, ignoring his baffled questions as I gently touched her forearms, trying to keep her from hurting herself. “It’s okay, Nara. It’s all right.”

  But it wasn’t all right.

  Because when she finally let me pull her arms down, removing her hands from her hair and face, she was gone again.

  And Halvor wasn’t.

  FIVE

  The four of us stood in the courtyard, the massive hedge towering over us, staring at one another. Well, three of us were. Inara had retreated into herself, into the world of roaring and noise that stole her from me—from us—and was murmuring to herself, her burning gaze darting around, seeing, absorbing, but not truly. She’d tried to explain it to me more than once, in the winter when we had more time, how she could see and hear us, but how hard it was to focus, to make sense of what she saw, or what we said to her, over the cacophony in her head. The roar that consumed all her sense and made it practically impossible for her to function.

  Halvor glanced at my sister. “Is she—”

  “It’s nearly sundown.” Mother stepped forward, her hands clasped together at her waist. “You may spend the night in a guest suite, but tomorrow you must go.”

  “You’re going to let him stay?” The words were out before I’d even realized I’d thought them. I quickly clamped my mouth shut at the sharp look Mother gave me.

  “What choice do we have? He’s trapped here, same as us.”

  “Trapped?” Halvor echoed. “What does she mean? I thought you said this was your home? Please, let me go to my Master—let me help him. If he’s poisoned…”

  “There’s nothing we can do,” Mother snapped.

  Halvor flinched, but didn’t argue.

  “In the morning, perhaps things will be different.” Mother turned on her heel and strode back toward the citadel. Our home—our prison. “Come along, boy.”

  Halvor stood still for a moment, uncertain.

  “You better go,” I urged him, gently taking Inara’s arm. She jerked at my touch, turning my direction, but her gaze went right through me. “I’ll see you at supper.”

  He finally did as I bid, throwing one last glance over his shoulder at the gate that was still obscured by the hedge. Master Barloc’s howls and whining had grown fainter by the minute, indicating he’d finally taken Mother’s advice to seek help from Gina—a wise choice, as the thorns were indeed poisonous and depending on the amount of punctures and length of time given for it to spread, could even be fatal, as one unlucky villager had discovered years ago. I’d been too young to remember the details of what happened, but the shouts of the mob that gathered after the man’s death outside the hedge still haunted my nightmares.

  Only once Halvor had followed Mother through the door and disappeared into the citadel did I breathe slightly easier. Now to find a way to keep Inara occupied and away from Halvor until tomorrow. When Mother somehow intended to … what? Hope the hedge would change its mind and let him out?

  The sun indeed had sunk below the green wall that was our living captor; shadows reached toward us with spectral fingers, stretching closer and closer as the light disappeared. I shook my head and gave Inara’s arm a coaxing tug. “Let’s go back to your garden. I think we’ll have strawberries for dessert tonight.”

  I couldn’t make sense of her garbled response, but she let me pull her forward, so I pretended she understood me. We headed to her garden, while I tried to put the idea of Halvor Roskery staying at the citadel out of my mind for as long as possible.

  * * *

  That evening I walked into the dining salon, hardly able to believe the change. How had Mother managed to pull this off? We always took every meal in the “morning” room where we usually spent all of our time, leaving the much larger room closed and draped. One never would have realized that looking at it now.

  Candlelight glowed from elaborate candelabras on every surface, including the massive table that dominated the center of the room, stretching from one end all the way to the other. It could easily have sat a party of fifty guests, perhaps even more. I’d never taken the time to count the chairs. This room, like so many others, had been off-limits. And while I made the effort to sneak into the library whenever I could, to slip a book or two beneath my skirts, spiriting them away to hide beneath my bed until I dared to read them, this one had held no allure to me. There was such an air of sadness to rooms like this one; those meant to host laughter and music, tables heavy with food and drink, and instead left desolate, dusty, and forgotten. Abandoned.

  Just like we had been.

  But now, the cloths riddled with moth holes covering all the furniture had disappeared, and the wooden surfaces gleamed in the flickering candlelight. I glanced at the one nearest me, almost fancying I would be able to see my own reflection in the dark wood.

  “Zuhra, at last.” My mother’s voice carried through the dining salon with a bit of an echo, emphasizing the size—and emptiness—of the room. “Please join us. Mahsami has been waiting to serve us until you arrived.”

  I ignored the barb in her words and forced my legs to carry me forward to where she sat at the head of the table. By all accounts, Mother should have been dwarfed by the table and the rows of empty chairs running along either side of it, like sad, diminished sentinels standing at attention to a day long gone. But instead, she looked like a queen, reigning over her kingdom, however small it might be. Especially in the dress she’d chosen to wear. It was made of a rich purple brocade accentuated with flounces of white lace, which had somehow been kept from yellowing.

  I didn’t think I’d ever seen it before, but then with a suddenness that made me halt, a flash of memory rose unbidden. Little more than a glimpse; of Mother standing in the courtyard, a smaller version of the hedge behind her, wearing that dress, her dark hair long and free, blowing in a breeze, her arms stretched out toward me, and smiling. A true smile, beautiful and warm. And the man beside her—tall, broad, with hair like sun-drenched wheat, and his eyes—

&nb
sp; “Zuhra.”

  I blinked and realized both Mother and Halvor were staring at me.

  My father. Seeing Mother in that dress had given me a memory not only of her, but of Adelric—whose face I had lost until now. The Paladin who had the same glowing blue eyes as Inara.

  The chair scraped against the stone floor when I pulled it back, echoed by Halvor’s as he stood when I reached the table. He gave me a slight bow while I quickly took my seat. I flushed, unused to not only the presence of a boy, but also having him bow to me, as if I were someone of importance—someone worthy of deference.

  But I didn’t miss the way his gaze flashed past me to the door then back again before he sat down once more, a trace of disappointment crossing his face.

  Mother nodded with a flick of her wrist and Mahsami materialized as if summoned from the darkness itself beyond the reach of the candlelight, pushing a cart heavy with serving dishes. I couldn’t begin to fathom what she had scrounged up to put together such a feast. Certainly not our usual thin soup, accompanied by whatever vegetables Inara had managed to grow for us.

  “Your dinner, Madam.”

  Madam?

  She might have noticed my look of incredulity, but her gaze was respectfully—and abnormally—lowered to the serving platters she quickly set out on the table. I shifted uncomfortably.

  First came a plate of roasted potatoes drizzled with a fragrant sauce, followed by a dish of salted pork (Sami had been practically gleeful when the hedge allowed a pig through a month earlier), a tureen of vegetable stew, a slab of fresh, crusty bread that still steamed—the delicious scent wafting toward me, making my stomach growl in response—and finally a pitcher of fresh water from the well.

  I stared at the largesse with wide eyes. Mahsami must have emptied the larder to prepare a meal this size. What would we eat after this night’s waste? For there was no possible way we could consume everything she’d prepared and put before us. She’d used a week’s worth of food on this one dinner.

  “That will be all. Thank you.” Mother nodded imperiously at Mahsami, who curtsied in response and backed away, taking the now empty cart with her. One wheel squeaked, the only sound in the entire salon.

  Mother had been desperate to make Halvor leave only a few hours ago but now she seemed to be doing everything in her power to present him with the appearance of a life in the citadel that didn’t truly exist. The life of a noblewoman.

  “Shall we say a blessing over this food?”

  Mother clasped her hands and bowed her head without waiting for a response.

  Attempting to mask my disbelief, I followed suit. Apparently she was a pious noblewoman. An interesting turn for someone who had often told me she couldn’t believe in a god that would allow her to be trapped here.

  “Oh, Gracious God, we give thanks for the food we are about to eat. And also for our unexpected but welcome guest. May he be blessed in his endeavors and for the duration of his stay.”

  I couldn’t help but open my eyes at that even more surprising sentiment. When I lifted my gaze Halvor was also looking up, his forehead creased. What? You didn’t think yourself a welcome guest after she tried to physically drag you away from here? I had to smother a sudden urge to giggle as I quickly bowed my head again.

  “We pray for thy blessings. Amen.”

  “Amen,” we echoed simultaneously. When I looked up, I caught Halvor watching me, but he quickly glanced away, toward the food.

  “So, Mr. Roskery, where do you call home?” The clang of the silver serving spoons against the china Sami usually only used for birthdays was a tinkling counterpoint to Mother’s pointed question.

  “Please, call me Halvor.” He reached for a piece of bread. “Originally, I was from Segara. But Master Barloc and I traveled here from the Libraries of Mercarum.”

  “All the way from Mercarum, Mr. Roskery? That is quite a distance, indeed.”

  I took a bite of my food, but barely tasted it. My attention was wholly riveted on the boy across from me.

  “What could have possibly induced you to leave such a grand city for this dismal place?”

  Halvor paused with a spoon of stew partway to his mouth. “Are you familiar with Mercarum, Madam?”

  “Both cities, actually. But we are not discussing me,” Mother pushed, ignoring my noise of surprise. She’d never told me where she lived before Gateskeep and the citadel, and Sami didn’t know. Only that they’d traveled quite a distance, mostly at night, to get to the citadel. “What has brought you from the warm, bustling coast to our rain-soaked mountains?”

  “It hasn’t rained yet…”

  “A rarity, I assure you.” Mother’s friendly tone turned cool, her attempt at polite conversation barbed heavily with intent. If Halvor didn’t respond to her directly soon, I was afraid he would be witness to her wrath. A prospect that could possibly induce him to take his chances with the poisonous hedge.

  “Lucky for us, then.” He finally took the bite of stew and after chewing and swallowing, the sound of it easily audible as we both waited for his response, he said, “I have been an apprentice to Master Barloc for three years. In truth, he’s also my uncle. After my parents died, I was sent to live with him. He’s dedicated his life to studying the Paladin, often at great cost to his professional advancement among his peers. His dream has always been to travel to the Citadel of the Paladin—and when I came of age and received my inheritance, I agreed to help fund his expedition.”

  “An inheritance?” Mother’s pointed look at me was hard to miss, and I flushed. “Hopefully you didn’t spend it all on such a foolish journey.”

  “I hardly think it foolish—we’re here, aren’t we? I’m in the Citadel of the Paladin, eating dinner where the Paladin ate, no less. I believe my monies have been well spent.”

  “It’s gone then.” Mother’s hopeful expression turned dour.

  “I didn’t say that.” For the first time, Halvor’s words were almost as frosty as hers.

  I shifted uneasily on my seat. I had very little experience with polite society, but even I knew her frank discussion of his finances was not appropriate. “Why was studying the Paladin costly to Master Barloc’s professional career?” It was the first question I could come up with, and once it was out, I could only hope it was at least slightly less impertinent than my mother’s.

  The relief that washed over Halvor’s face warmed my belly in a way that the stew and crusty bread I’d managed to eat hadn’t accomplished. “Well, between the fear and mistrust, and the former king’s edict to—”

  “It’s a complicated matter.” Mother’s eyes sliced toward me, a clear warning to drop this subject.

  But for the first time in my life someone was willing to answer my questions—someone who had studied the Paladin for years. Bravery burned hot and heady beneath my skin, pushing out the cold clutches of fear, regardless of the consequences that were sure to come. I turned back to Halvor. “What edict?”

  Halvor’s eyebrows lifted. “You don’t know what I’m referring to? But you live … here.”

  “This is not really a relevant—”

  “There are many things of which I am probably unaware … even living here.” I was the one to speak over Mother this time, chafing acutely from my lack of knowledge. The intensity of her answering glare was a physical thing; I could feel the anger emanating from the head of the table. It was like standing too close to a fire, the side of my body nearest her growing increasingly hot.

  “You’ve truly never heard of the Treason and Death Decree from King Velfron?”

  “A death decree?” I was too shocked to be embarrassed by the incredulity in his tone. “Who was he putting to death?”

  “The Paladin. And anyone who supported them.”

  “What? But the Paladin saved—”

  “That is enough,” Mother cut in. Halvor didn’t seem to hear her—or chose to ignore her.

  “The former king charged the Paladin with attempting to overthrow the kingdom and ru
le over us with their superior abilities, and had as many as he could find—”

  “I said that’s enough,” she repeated, her voice almost a shout.

  Halvor’s mouth snapped shut, leaving me shocked and confused.

  Overthrowing the kingdom? A death decree? “I … I didn’t realize … I didn’t know…” My response was faint as I thought of my sister. What would the people of Vamala do to her if they could reach her, if their hatred had truly grown so strong—if there was a death decree? “But why would he do that? Why would anyone believe them to be the enemy? If their wish was to rule over us, why didn’t they stay?” The Paladin had saved all of Vamala from the rakasa … hadn’t they?

  Halvor leaned forward. “You truly don’t know any of this?”

  I shook my head; Halvor’s honey-brown eyes, the color of gingerbread, were unwavering on mine from across the table. The candlelight danced over his tanned face, sunburnt cheeks, and wavy hair. Something inside me danced too, but I wasn’t sure if it was from getting answers at last, or the feeling of sitting across from a boy—almost a man—and having his focus trained entirely on me. It was simultaneously terrifying and exhilarating.

  “I would be happy to tell you of what I know—what Master Barloc’s studies have uncovered.”

  “I think that is quite enough of that topic for one night,” Mother trilled, with a sudden wave of her hand. A strange, high-pitched noise followed her words; it took me a moment to realize it was an attempt at a laugh.

  I turned to her. She would refuse to let him speak, and still truly think there was a chance of forcing this boy to marry me? For surely that’s what all of this was—the candlelight, the dining salon, the unnecessarily lavish supper, the use of the best china … it was an attempt to … what? Bewitch him so that he might propose this very night and whisk me away in the morning, partially completed dowry and all?