Chasing Shadows

by Ashley Townsend

  Will wasn’t sure he wanted Sarah to have any reminder of this man’s existence if it caused her pain, but then his shoulders sank when he realized that it wasn’t his decision to make. He hesitantly took the letter and stuffed it into his pocket.

  Lisandro visibly slumped with relief. “Keep her safe for me.”

  Will stared back at him and nodded once. “Until my last breath.” It was the truth, but they both knew there wasn’t much use in making promises to a dead man.

  ~Chapter 50~

  Sarah had been a nervous wreck for the first few hours of their absence, but she had found a certain amount of peace by the time Thomas and Will rode up just before sundown. After a crushing hug, Will relayed, as best he could, all that Damien had revealed. Sarah hadn’t imagined that he would confess everything so easily, though she felt a powerful sense of relief that his compliance would save his life.

  Together, the two men explained that the letters were exactly where Damien had said they would be and were immediately confiscated by the royal guard. After perusing the missives, it was James T. Quinn himself who took Damien’s testimony, jotting down every word of the twisted scheme. Then he sent a troupe of guards to seek out the down-and-out alchemist who had concocted the poison. The man, half drunk at the time, had tearfully confessed the entire thing under penalty of death and laid all blame at Cadius’ feet.

  With both written confessions in hand and a small audience in tow, Quinn confronted Cadius face-to-face, though the stony-faced man admitted nothing. Then the captain took the matter to the young prince, presenting both the mastermind and the evidence before Serimone’s future king. Will said that he and his uncle were allowed to stand in during the hearing, since they had both played key roles in gathering proof against Cadius.

  “There must have been a strong bond between Cadius and Prince Adrian,” Will mused aloud at one point. He described how it had seemed especially painful for the younger man as he hesitantly, and only after a strained nod of encouragement from Cadius, professed his uncle’s guilt and sentenced him to the gallows.

  He was set to hang the next day.

  Sarah sat heavily in a chair when they finished relaying the events. It was over. It was finally over. No crescendo, no dramatic denial: Cadius was found guilty, and justice had been doled out without her witnessing any of it. After all this time and all the accompanying trauma, it was almost anticlimactic to have it end so . . . peaceably. She blinked, feeling the weight lifted from her shoulders, though it was almost too good to believe.

  Suddenly, a hole opened up deep inside as the full impact of this realization hit her. Sarah swallowed. It was all over.

  “Are you all right?” Will tipped his head to study her face, weariness shadowing his bruised eye and deepening the furrow between his brows.

  It would be too difficult to explain what had put the glum look on her face in light of such relieving news. Trying to collect her expression, Sarah managed a weary smile. “Just a little overwhelmed, I guess.”

  He nodded knowingly. “It’s quite a lot to take in.”

  She managed to keep the despondency from her voice. “Yeah. A lot.”

  The men decided that keeping Sarah in a house with two bachelors as chaperones wasn’t the brightest of ideas, so she and Will set off into the night on his uncle’s bay. He dropped her off at the Joneses’ and walked her to the front door like a gentleman. She expected—and wanted—him to kiss her goodbye, but instead Will wrapped her in a tender embrace. She snuggled against him, feeling his shoulders bow in exhaustion.

  “Until tomorrow, love,” he whispered, kissing the top of her head. Then he rode off, a knight on his horse.

  Even after the tragedy of the day, Sarah was smiling as she went inside.

  It was well after midnight by the time Sarah finished relaying every detail of the past three days to Karen, though that girl’s eyes were bright with suspenseful excitement despite the hour. Sarah had earlier provided the Joneses with a watered-down and abbreviated version of the story, shocking them all with her tale. But she saved the especially detailed parts for her friend, who, sensing Sarah was holding back, had insisted that they spend the night in the barn together.

  No one protested her declaration when they caught Karen’s stern eye and steely resolve. They had known her long enough to tell when her mind was made up, which worked to Sarah’s benefit this instance; there were just some things that couldn’t be discussed in front of the family.

  Wrapped in warm blankets, they huddled together around a lantern in the loft. Sarah smiled to herself. Just like old times.

  “The alchemist and Cadius are set to hang tomorrow morning before dawn,” she explained, suppressing a yawn. “I think Will said something about them wanting to do it as soon as possible and keep it quiet to contain some of the rumors—give the regime a little time to come up with some way to diffuse the situation, I guess.”

  Karen gave her a wry look. “Another term for spinning the story. But it makes sense that they wouldn’t want word to spread that a diabolical murderer was advising the future king of Serimone.” She shook her head in consternation. “But what about the others?”

  “Thomas told me that a few conspirators came forward when they heard things going south, popping out of the woodwork because they wanted to make a deal before they were discovered, which was inevitable.” With a nonchalant shrug, Sarah added, “Because they had a large hand in it, Damien and the other man the guards captured today will be moved at some point into solitary confinement outside the castle. But with everything else wrapped up so perfectly, I don’t think they’re in a rush to hassle with it.”

  Karen was watching her face closely with a pinched expression. “Are you doing okay? I mean, I could tell you really cared for Damien.”

  She had been trying not to think about that and had thrown herself into the story to keep her mind from her own feelings on the subject. Now that she was finished relaying the events of the day, her shoulders sank, and she sighed heavily. “Yeah, I did.”

  She forced a sardonic smile at her own ignorance. “I guess you were right all along, though—I can’t seem to stay away from wounded puppies. And as much as I wanted him to be a good guy . . .” Her voice drifted off. Sarah bit her lip and glanced away. “He did the right thing in the end, but it hardly makes up for the part he played in all of this and the trouble he’s caused.”

  “So he really tried to frame the Shadow for the murder?” Karen asked in disbelief. She scoffed, eyes flashing in defensive indignation. “What a trick. The Shadow has done nothing but good.” She slanted Sarah a look. “That must have come as a shock to find out that it hadn’t even been the Shadow, but Damien who had impersonated him.”

  Sarah looked down at her lap to buy time as she formulated a safe answer. Though Karen felt loyal to the Shadow for rescuing her from prison months ago, she still had no idea that it was Will who had really saved her that day. And Sarah wasn’t telling.

  At last, she replied carefully, “I knew it wasn’t the real Shadow pretty quickly.” Karen looked surprised, but Sarah recovered with, “It’s like you said; he would never do anything to hurt anyone, so the fact that he tried to shoot me and killed Edith kind of tipped me off.”

  Wisely, like with her conversation with Will, she had left out her discovery of Robert’s part in the charade. She hoped that someday he would be able to come clean with Will, but whatever he decided was his choice. And as much as she was itching to ask Karen about her relationship with Robert, it would be a little difficult to explain how she had discovered their story. She had promised him her silence, so Sarah stuffed her interest and clamped her mouth shut each time she was tempted to break that trust to satiate her own curiosity. And she certainly did not want to risk whatever was happening between Seth and her friend.

  Realizing she had been silent for some time and that Karen was waiting for her to elaborate, Sarah added, “Discovering that it had been Damien and finding out his part in everythin
g was a bit of a shock, but somehow everything started to make sense once I knew—his trips into town, not going where he said he was, disappearing for hours on end. And his informant came to him a lot. I overheard them a couple of times and thought they were just taking care of things that a lord had to do.”

  Sarah frowned, remembering. “But now I realize how much they were covering up. Like the bodies they found at the falls. I’d assumed Damien’s concern was because someone was on a killing rampage, but now I see that he was surprised his men had taken care of things so conspicuously and was just covering their sloppy tracks.” Shaking her head over her own stupidity, she whispered. “And I kept defending him to myself and others, trying to justify his actions. Maybe I knew he was up to something all along. I don’t know.”

  Karen leaned forward and squeezed her hand. “But it was his testimony that put Cadius away,” she reminded quietly. “Maybe he wasn’t all bad. What made him change his mind and confess?”

  Sarah released a mirthless laugh. “Will told him I wanted him to.”

  A slow breath whistled out from Karen’s lips. “Wow. He really did like you.”

  That familiar tightening in her chest returned as she thought about Damien, and Sarah admitted quietly, “I turned him in, and he still did what I asked. He just wanted someone to love and believe in him.” She grimaced, and Karen’s mouth turned down in sympathy. Sarah shook her head at her woeful musings. “But at least that sadist Cadius will go down for killing his own brother.”

  The redhead perked up a little at that. “Mission solved, huh? Thanks to you.” She nudged Sarah playfully.

  She tried to smile, but it faltered. “Yeah, mission complete.”

  Then Karen seemed to understand her reticence, and her green eyes widened in realization. “Oh, Sarah.” She wrapped her arms around her in a tight hug. Tears burned Sarah’s throat as she held onto her friend. “But you’ll come back,” Karen said in a choked voice. “It’s not like it’s over.”

  “I guess not.” She sniffed and pulled back to wipe her eyes. “Do you ever feel like you’re living a double life? There are our lives at home, but then we have all our adventures and stand-in families here. Sometimes I feel like it’s all pretend.”

  Karen’s eyes roved the loft, a small, sad smile on her lips. “I understand what you mean, but no. I have nothing back there but a date of birth and two gravestones to remember my parents by.” Her look turned wistful. “This place is my home and these people are my family. For me, the choice is easy.”

  The smile faded from her eyes, and her lips pursed. “But it isn’t so cut and dry for you, is it?” She sounded like she was musing to herself now. “You have your home family and your friends back here. And Will.” She grinned suggestively.

  Sarah groaned and flopped onto her back, the straw on the floor cushioning her fall. “Yeah, but I feel like I’m just putting off the inevitable. Where I come from, he’s been dead for a millennium. I can hardly go to college in the twenty-first century and marry a blacksmith, time traveling between finals and making supper in a cabin. Talk about long-distance.”

  At her prolonged silence, Sarah glanced over to catch Karen’s raised brow and sassy grin. “Marriage?” She asked slowly. “Something I missed?”

  Sarah’s eyes bulged, and she covered her face with her hands. “Didn’t mean it like that,” she muttered against her palms. Lowering her hands, she shot her friend a reproving look. “I was just using that as an example to show how impossible it all is.”

  Karen’s eyes still held a mischievous sparkle. “So he isn’t in love with you?”

  Sarah opened her mouth to object but waited a split second too long. Green eyes widened enough to put a saucer to shame. “I knew it!” When Sarah didn’t join in her excitement, Karen’s elation faded into a slow frown. “Oh, I see what you mean.”

  “Yeah.” Sarah released a breath, fluttering pieces of straw near her head. “So the more time I spend with him, the closer we grow. Until, what? I eventually stop coming back to avoid an extra appendage and leave him behind as nothing more than a great memory? That isn’t fair to either of us,” she whispered, plagued by her dilemma.

  “But you aren’t quite ready to break it off entirely,” Karen observed gently, sounding wise beyond her years.

  Cringing as she examined her motives, Sarah asked softly, “Does that make me a terrible person? Wanting to keep it alive for as long as possible and pray for a miracle?”

  Karen’s smile was gentle, reminding Sarah of her mom when she was getting ready to impart some sage wisdom on one of her distressed daughters. “No. It just means you’re human. The obstacles in love are never easy to overcome, but the commitment to fight makes you stronger together.” She angled her head to watch Sarah. “I’m not belittling your situation or the fact that you two have a special case, but nothing is impossible with God, Sarah. Never forget that.”

  It took a moment for Sarah to grin, but it was genuine when it came. “My words coming back to haunt me, I see.”

  Karen’s laugh echoed through the rafters. “Think of it as taking your own brilliant advice.”

  They lapsed into silence, then, and it was Sarah’s sigh that broke into the lulling sound of shuffling hooves and soft nickering. “I’ve been gone a long time, so I should probably head back soon.”

  Karen nodded grimly, knowing she meant back to Oklahoma, though it felt like a lifetime ago to Sarah. Jumping between worlds was making it increasingly difficult to keep track of what was real, and she found herself selfishly wanting the surreal to follow her home.

  Suddenly, Karen’s eyes shone brightly, and a shy expression stole over her face. “Do you think a wedding would be a sufficient reason to travel back?”

  “I have plenty of reasons to come back,” Sarah said, readying a list of the friends she had here. Then she sat bolt upright and gasped. “No! He didn’t! When? How?” She frowned, her expression suddenly severe. “Tell me he did it right, otherwise I’ll kick him in the seat meat and tell him to try again.”

  Karen laughed at her serious expression. Tears of joy sent her emerald gaze swimming. “This morning.” She choked out a laugh and rolled her eyes. “And you know how Seth is.”

  Sarah cringed. “Oh no—”

  Karen quickly shook her head. “No, no. I mean, yes, he tripped twice as we walked through the field to watch the morning sun and stumbled over every word he spoke when he finally got up the courage.”

  A wistful expression graced her face. Sarah had never seen her more beautiful than in that moment. “But it was perfect. The meaning behind the words, the look in his eyes. . . .”

  Sarah’s lips had begun to tip in a smile at her friend’s words. “You’re getting married,” she breathed, unable to hide her joyous smile. Her heart ached a little at losing these special moments where it was just the two of them, but that feeling was quickly overshadowed by her excitement for her friend. “Have you two set a date yet?”

  “Sometime in late spring.” Karen grinned at her, almost sheepishly. “I was hoping I could come and kidnap my maid of honor for the big day.”

  Sarah felt her heart warm and nodded eagerly. “Of course! Just try to do your best to avoid midterms or finals.” She widened her eyes in mock-fear. “Might be a little difficult to explain my absence to my professors. You know, time travel and all.”

  Karen laughed. “Will do, friend.”

  Then they hashed out their plans for the future—past and present—in the silence of the barn and fell asleep with smiles on their faces.

  ****

  It was a heavy silence as she and Will strolled through the woods, both of their minds similarly occupied. He had come for her shortly after breakfast, receiving warm greetings from the five Joneses. Seth had pulled him aside for a moment as Sarah slipped on her cloak, and Will was grinning softly when he returned.

  Now Sarah bit her lip, indecisive, as her gaze wandered the white canopy of limbs stretching above their heads. The snow had
stopped sometime during the night, and the sun was already shining brightly overhead through the fluffy clouds.

  “You’re awfully quiet,” she observed softly to the sky.

  “I could say the same about you.” She looked over, and Will was watching her intently. Dark circles rimmed his bloodshot eyes, and the bruises on his jaw and around his eye had turned a greenish-yellow color. Stubble lined his cheeks and jaw, shadowing the dark purple bruise she knew marred his chin.

  Resisting the urge to scrub her thumb over the barely-there scruff, Sarah swallowed. “Is it over?” She didn’t need to elaborate; it was what had them both so silent.

  Will sighed, mechanically scrubbing a hand over his jaw like she had wanted to do. He grimaced when he rubbed the bruise and dropped his hand. “Yes. My uncle informed me that Cadius and the alchemist were both executed this morning.” He stared at the ground and admitted softly. “Perhaps it was weakness, but I couldn’t bring myself to go. Neither could my uncle, though I suppose no one was in attendance, anyway.”

  At the look of shame on his face, Sarah reached out to place her hand reassuringly on his back. Her chest swelled at the thought that he felt he could share his disgrace with her, that he trusted her enough to reveal something so personal.

  His dark eyes registered surprise and pleasure at the easy touch.

  “You shouldn’t be ashamed that you don’t enjoy the sight of death,” Sarah encouraged softly. “Valuing life isn’t a weakness or a flaw. I think it took courage to not go when your superiors view it as a celebration of justice.”

  She grimaced at the term and dropped her hand. Although the execution had been more of a private affair, she imagined spectators calling out obscenities and demeaning remarks at hooded men as they walked to the noose. Justified or not, Sarah knew she could never observe such a crude execution of justice, let alone participate in and relish something so disturbing.