The Darkest Bloom (Shadowscent)

by Freestone, P. M.

  Sometime in the night, I wake to raised voices echoing down the hall.

  I’m thankful that my wounds have crusted over well enough to allow me to pull on my armour. I exit my cell and hurry along the corridor, following the sound to Nisai’s chambers.

  The Rangers stationed on the outer door nod me through in unison. Their comrades on the inner door greet me in the same manner.

  Inside, Kip meets my eyes across the room. There’s sympathy in her gaze, but then the moment passes and she’s stoic again, on guard at the Prince’s bedside.

  Nisai remains on his back. Someone has changed his clothes into his state robes – deep imperial purple with thread-of-gold phoenixes stitched into the silk. The sight makes me slightly uneasy – it’s not what Nisai would have chosen. Not that you’d be able to tell: the Prince’s expression is serene, eyes closed, hands clasped over his stomach.

  Iddo, however, appears anything but serene. His shirt is uncharacteristically unbuttoned, his face shadowed where by now he normally would have shaved. He paces in front of one of his senior officers – by the look of the man’s insignia and silver-sown hair – who stands next to an Aphorain guard. It’s the same hulking brute who steered the chariot at the lion hunt. What’s he doing here?

  “An innocent doesn’t run,” Iddo fumes. “Find her.”

  An innocent? On the run?

  The Ranger nods, his hands clasped behind his back. “Aye, sir. But we’re stretched. We never thought we’d be holding a palace complex, and now the city is growing restless. Could we let some of the Aphorain guards resume patrols outside the walls? Handpicked, of course. Only those we judge to be loyal to the Empire. Like this lad already proved himself at the scene.”

  The Aphorain guard lifts his chin and puffs his chest. Smug bastard.

  “Very well, Squad Captain,” Iddo says. “But I want our men – not theirs – to see to the matter of the fugitive.”

  “There’s the team helping the scholar vet the healers. There’s only three of them, though.”

  “Enough to track one girl. And Issinon can assist Esarik to delve into healer credentials. It’s not like my brother is in need of a valet at this point.”

  Divert resources from finding the expert Nisai needs? I want to protest – we need answers and we needed them yesterday – but I grit my teeth. No good can come of openly challenging the Commander. His frustration has built until he almost quivers with it; an over-wound bowstring ready to snap at the lightest draw.

  I can’t imagine the stress of having to take charge over a situation like this. And I can’t imagine the grilling he’ll receive with each messenger bird from Ekasya bearing the Council of Five’s seal.

  But surely there’s another way.

  I clear my throat. “You’ve found a suspect?”

  The Squad Captain grunts assent. “The girl who was with you when you found the Prince. The Scent Keeper’s servant.”

  “You think she did this?”

  “We’re shy of a confession, but we’ll have one soon enough.” He claps me on the shoulder. “Don’t worry, we’ll track her down. Then she’ll talk. I’ll make sure of it.”

  “What if she’s innocent?”

  Iddo sets his jaw. “Then it will still signal to the Aphorains that no leniency will be shown when my brother’s safety is under threat.”

  The last makes the hairs on the back of my neck lift. I’d told Iddo the girl might have some insight into what ails Nisai, but this doesn’t sound like reconnaissance. This sounds like vengeance. And for what? For being in the wrong place at the wrong time? For knowing more than she’s letting on?

  Whatever the girl’s involvement in all of this, I don’t see her as an ancient-poison-wielding assassin. And Nisai trusted her, he said so, after she’d tended my wounds from the lion hunt. If he were the one giving orders, he’d want to find out what she knows; he wouldn’t want her thrown behind bars, tracked like an animal and then tortured to confess to something she may not have done.

  For the time being, Kip is in far better condition to stand guard over Nisai.

  Esarik is screening potential healers.

  Iddo needs all the men he can get.

  “I’ll go,” I venture.

  Iddo raises an eyebrow. “Go where?”

  “To find the girl.”

  The Squad Captain guffaws. “I’ve never seen you bested in the training yard, boy. Ol’ Blademaster Boldor – may Azered guide his soul – knew how to foster talent. But you were still squeaking like a girl when you came to the palace. What do you know about tracking out in the big wide world?

  “I, ah—”

  He folds his arms. “Exactly.”

  I look to Iddo, imploring.

  “The Squad Captain is right, house cat. Focus on your recovery. If my brother wakes, he’ll want you.”

  The Ranger sniggers lewdly at the last.

  Anger tightens my throat. Mother Esiku, give me patience. “But, I—”

  Iddo’s eyes spark dangerously. “That’s an order, Shield.”

  “Acknowledged, Commander,” I say through clenched teeth.

  Back in my cell, I slump against the wall, hissing a pained breath when the jolt smarts the wound in my side.

  I’ve never defied an order. I never thought I’d need to. But my responsibility above all else is to serve Nisai. Until my last breath, I need to do everything within my power to cure him. If the Aphorain girl knows something that could help, I must find out. And if I don’t move now, I’ll risk word spreading among the Rangers that I’m on orders to stay.

  I start shoving my belongings into my travel pack.

  A soft knock makes every muscle tense. I shove my pack behind the pallet and crack open the door.

  It’s the Aphorain guard. The so-called loyal one. He shifts from foot to sandalled foot, eyes darting up and down the hall. “Apologies, ah, Shield, sir. But I couldn’t help but overhear.”

  “Spit it out, man.”

  “Do you think she did it?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “The girl who escaped. Do you think she hurt the Prince?” He seems so earnest, like his world turns on my answer.

  “I believe she understands more than she’s revealing,” I say carefully. “But I don’t believe she’s a murderer.”

  He sags in apparent relief.

  Footsteps come into earshot. I grab the guard’s sash and drag him back into my room. “What aren’t you telling me?”

  He holds up his hands. “Nothing about the Prince. I swear. On my sister’s life. But I do know about Rakel.”

  I’ve observed courtiers and merchants, ambassadors and bards over my turns in the Ekasya palace. Something tells me this guard isn’t a master of guile. I relax my grip.

  He eyes my pack. “I might run too.” The implication is clear – a Shield is blood-sworn to his charge. If they fail in their duty, their life is forfeit.

  “I’m not doing this for myself,” I growl. “Now, the girl.”

  The guard studies me, cocking his head to either side as if he’ll see something different from another angle. “I can’t believe I’m here again,” he mutters.

  “Here?”

  “You swear you won’t hurt her?”

  I glare at him. He doesn’t shrink from my gaze. Seems when it comes to this girl, his bravery matches his brawn.

  “If she means no harm to the Prince, she’ll not be harmed by me.” It’s as far as I’m prepared to go.

  It seems to be enough, because he leans forward, his voice dropping almost to a whisper. “I’ll help you get out of here. You heard in there – your lot have approved us to resume patrols of the city. We’ll smuggle you out at the next shift change. From there, find the horse.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “You’ll want to track a horse, not a camel. She’s had a pet horse since she was a kid. She won’t leave the city without it. Find the horse, find the girl.”

  “And you know this because?”

  His e
xpression turns soft, almost wistful. “I grew up with her.”

  CHAPTER 19

  Rakel

  It feels like I’ve been picking my way through sewer reek for ever – one hand on the wall, nose pressed into the other shoulder – when I make out the barest hint of light up ahead. I follow it, my breath loud in my ears, to the grate that Luz told me about. I give it an experimental push. It swings open with surprising ease.

  Outside the city walls, it’s night, though it may as well be day compared with the unnatural darkness of the dungeons. I suck in a breath. Sweet freedom … with a chaser of sewer. But after stumbling along those tunnels for stench-knows how long, I’m not complaining.

  If the smell of sodden char wasn’t still drifting down from the palace terraces, I could almost imagine nothing was amiss in the city. But that, paired with the silhouettes of the Rangers that now patrol the walls, snuffs out any wishful thinking. And there’s something distinctly unnerving about the sight of the larger moon, Shokan, covering the smaller and taking on a colour I didn’t expect.

  Flower Moon?

  Blood Moon more like it.

  I do my best to combine casual with quiet as I make my way to the northern trader camp. The back of my neck prickles with every step – if Luz spoke the truth, the dungeon guard will wake up in a puddle of ale any time now.

  One thing’s true: they’ve corralled Lil in the stock pens, along with the sheep and goats that will become roasts and stews for travellers. My horse gives a soft whicker as I approach.

  “Shhhh,” I murmur.

  But it’s too late. A figure stumbles out of the small tent overlooking the pens.

  I stop dead in my tracks. Seems Luz’s plan was Rot-brained after all.

  The stock boy approaches, something bundled in his arms. “What’s your name?” He whispers hoarsely.

  “What?”

  “I need a name. If I don’t tell her the right one, I don’t get my second zig.”

  “Oh.” Makes sense. “Rakel.”

  He holds out his arms. Lil’s desert cloth, saddle and the rest of her tack.

  “Thanks.”

  With a sleepy nod, he heads back to his tent.

  I saddle Lil as quickly as possible and lead her from the pens, keeping in her shadow when we pass any perimeter torches. Then we’re clear of the caravan camp and heading across the scree for the desert.

  I hold my locket up before me, turning it this way and that, squinting in the moonslight. I’ve always marvelled at the skill of the artisan who engraved the silver with such accuracy that I could pick out several constellations of the starwheel even in childhood.

  But there was one star near the locket’s bottom edge that always stood out, larger than anything I’d seen near the southern horizon over Aphorai. I’d always thought it was a silversmith’s error. A slip of the hand covered to look like a bright star.

  If it’s really a map, I have no idea how I’m going to read it. But first things first – put some sand between me and the city. South, Luz said. Her word has held water so far, so south it is.

  Before I mount up, I take one last glance over my shoulder at the silhouette of Aphorai’s walls. “Good reekin’ riddance,” I curse under my breath.

  “Not. Quite. Yet.” The voice is deep as midnight shadow.

  I twist around, only for my eyes to find blackness.

  Then my nose picks up the barest hints of sandalwood and cedar.

  I spin back the other way.

  A dark outline stands against the stars and eerie crimson moon, the scent of cedar stronger now I’m facing him. The Shield. Not for the first time, I wonder why I took the trouble to oil that armour. It’s not like it was my role. I just had to do something with my hands while I watched over him that first night.

  But that was before the fire.

  Now, all bets are off.

  If I’m going to die here, it will be on my own terms. I draw my knife, though it’s hardly more than a toothpick compared with the two swords strapped to the Shield’s back.

  But he doesn’t reach for either of them. Instead, he tilts his head to the side. It’s an unexpectedly boy-like gesture.

  What in the sixth hell is he playing at?

  “Shouldn’t you be with the Prince?” I ask, hoping on my father’s life that the Empire’s heir is also still in the land of the living.

  He gently pats his side. “I’m healing, but I’m of limited use to him in my, ah, traditional role. Doesn’t mean I won’t do what I must to serve him. And you, it seems, might be able to help. I’ve no interest in causing you harm. If you know anything about what happened, now’s the time to speak.”

  Another interrogation? No, thanks. “I was just a servant. I wasn’t privy to—”

  “Rangers are coming for you. It’s only by Azered’s mercy I found you first. So you can be honest with me, or I can leave you to them. Your choice.”

  I study him as I take that in. It’s too dark to read his features, but he’s carrying a travel pack, stuffed full. He expects to be gone some time. Maybe he isn’t looking to drag me back to Aphorai as soon as he gets what he wants.

  But what I know, where I’m going – why would an imperial bodyguard believe me? Then Luz’s voice echoes in my mind: It was the Prince’s.

  I rummage in my satchel, feeling for the book. It’s not like I’m going to be able to decipher it on my own, so I doubt there’s much point in withholding it from him. I heft its weight, then pass it over. “Do you recognize this?”

  The Shield takes the book – so much smaller cradled in his square hands. “Where did you get this?” he demands.

  “Some girl acting as a servant. But she knew too much for any servant I’d known. She said the book was the Prince’s, and sent me to look for something to help him.”

  “I thought it was destroyed in the fire.” He lets out a sigh and tucks the book into his pack. Then he straightens his shoulders, as if he’s decided something. “You shouldn’t go to your village. That’ll be the first place they’ll hunt for you.”

  I glare at him. “Just because I’m common, doesn’t mean I’m stupid.”

  “I didn’t say that,” he says, holding up his hands.

  “So how did you find me?”

  “One of the palace guards. Said you grew up together.”

  I grit my teeth. Barden.

  “Lovers’ quarrel?”

  I turn away and climb into Lil’s saddle, half expecting to be yanked back to the sand.

  But the Shield doesn’t move to stop me.

  “Look,” I say, my fingers twining in mane. “The only thing I know for sure is that I’m being played. Not like that’s anything new these days. But I’ve got a lead on something that might help your Prince. It’s flimsy, but it’s a lead.”

  His face is only dimly lit by the stars and the blood-red smoulder of the Flower Moon. Even so, there’s something intimidating about his gaze, as if he’s the one with the high ground glowering down at me.

  “I’m going to find the Library of the Lost.”

  He snorts. “That’s a myth.”

  “Like I said – flimsy. As flyaway as temple smoke. But the person who gave me that book also told me the only place to find answers for your Prince is the Library. I’m desperate enough to gamble. Are you?”

  He kicks a boot in the sand and stares down at it for a long moment.

  “There’s something else, too. Something Sephine said before she died. Seems your Prince won’t last to become Emperor.”

  His head snaps up. “What did she say?”

  “‘When the lion wears the lost crown, he won’t live through the night.’”

  He mutters under his breath and begins to pace, more predator’s prowl than nervous fidgeting.

  “Why couldn’t you just have a camel like everyone else?” he growls.

  “What sort of question is that?”

  “Do they not teach you history out here? Never heard of the demise of Emperor Mulreth?”

>   The Mulreth Saga? Please. It’s one of Father’s favourite tales from beyond the Empire. Though I’m betting it was told very differently to whatever version the Shield’s heard. “Yeah, yeah, I know, the horses got one whiff of camel musk and the cavalry were routed. And fair enough. Camels stink.” I wrinkle my nose. Right now, so do I.

  “I don’t care what it smells of. I do care what tracks it leaves behind. One horse in a thousand camels…”

  “With this breeze, the desert will swallow her tracks soon enough. Lil and I have been together for turns. I know her weaknesses, her strengths. I trust her. Which is more than I can say for you.”

  He grimaces. Serves him right. I shouldn’t be the only one who has to earn respect around here. “If you’re coming with me, you’ve got a choice. On horseback, on foot with that love-tap from your lion friend only held together by stitches … or go steal a camel. Good luck to you if you do, because Lil and I will be long gone.”

  He checks his pack, pulling the straps taught so it sits snug against his back. Without a word, he starts jogging south, the direction I’d been heading before he crept up on me.

  Stubborn fool. I give him a mile, two at most, before his wound flares and he’s sapped of energy.

  I reach down and give Lil’s neck a pat. “He’s made his decision, girl. Let’s go.”

  We don’t speak as we leave Aphorai behind, too intent on whether we’ll be noticed, whether an alarm will be raised. The Shield’s pace matches Lil’s – their footfalls drumming a muffled beat in the sand. How he keeps going with a wound like that is bordering on unnatural. The thought sends an extra ripple of unease through me.

  When we reach the larger dunes, we slow to a walk for a spell. I look back towards the city. It’s nothing more than an orange-gold smudge where the night sky meets the waves of the desert. Except… I squint. Are those lights moving?

  I point. “What’s going on back there?”

  “Azered’s breath,” the Shield mutters. He scans the horizon in the opposite direction. “Where do these dunes end? How far until the landscape changes?”