The Shadows

by J. R. Ward

  "I did not mean for this to happen."

  "Oh, come on, Princess, like you slipped and fell on my dick? We both know that's not what went down."

  She frowned. "I do not quite understand that phrase, but given your tone, I must ask whether such crudeness is required--"

  "Are you kidding me?" He threw his hands up. "You're betrothed. To my brother. And not only did you lie to me, you fucked me!"

  Catra crossed her arms and glared at him. "Perhaps you would like to rephrase that to reflect the truth."

  "So you're delusional as well as a liar? Great. Fabulous. What exactly are you disputing? Your lying or our fucking?"

  "If I remember correctly, you were hardly taken advantage of by me. And that's what you're making it sound like." She jutted forward on her hips. "Indeed, I recall exactly how your voice sounded in my ear as you said my name."

  He recoiled. Blinked a couple of times. Then he leaned in as well. "But that wasn't your name, was it. As far as I knew, I was laying with a maid, not the heir to the goddamn throne!"

  "You were laying with me!" She struck her own chest. "I'm who you were with!"

  "Bullshit! You don't think for a fucking moment that I would have made different choices if I'd known who you really were? Or are you so fucking selfish and stuck-up, Your Serene Highness, that you can't comprehend or care, for even a minute and a half, that there are repercussions when you lie about your identity and lose your virginity to the wrong fucking brother!"

  "I didn't mean for it to go as far as it did!"

  "That I believe," he countered grimly.

  "iAm--"

  "No." He put out both his palms. "Just--no. I'm not going to rehash this bullshit with you. I don't have the time or the interest."

  "I was going to tell you. I know that I've put you in a horrible position--"

  "My brother just lost his shellan," he snapped. "That is a problem. She died in front of him, and he spent most of the day and some of the night preparing her body for a goddamn funeral pyre. Then he got to watch her burn until there was nothing left but ashes on the cold ground. That shit is real. But, wait, the fun and games ain't over! To top it all off, I just learned that your mother, bitch that she is, is prepared to attack the only people who have ever tried to take care of me and Trez if he isn't delivered like an overnight package on her doorstep tomorrow at midnight. All so that he can have the very dubious honor and privilege of getting mated to the likes of you." As Catra gasped, he bit out, "So the fact that I had sex with you is so far down my list of priorities, it's not even on my radar screen. You just aren't that big a deal, Princess."

  She was not going to cry.

  No, she was not.

  Even though her chest was screaming in pain, she would not crumble in front of him. She had brought this upon them both--and beyond the private strife, it appeared that real dangers for her people were imminent.

  "I wanted to live," she heard herself say hoarsely. "For once, I wanted to live. And I was not going to get a second chance. You . . . you were the only opportunity I was going to get, and I was going to tell you tonight. I knew it wasn't fair. I'm very sorry."

  Turning away from him, she went to the sliding glass door and opened things up.

  "Time for me to come and join the lovebirds?" s'Ex muttered.

  "Were you aware that my mother has issued a declaration of war against Wrath, son of Wrath? Over the Anointed One and our mating?"

  The executioner grew very still, his robes flapping around him in the gusts. Meeting her eye, he shook his head gravely. "If that is true, that would not be advised."

  SEVENTY-FIVE

  Annnnnnnnd this was why people shouldn't get married in Vegas after knowing a person for only twenty-four hours, iAm thought.

  As the female he'd assumed was just a maid, but had turned out to be the heir to the fucking throne, confronted her mother's executioner, he wanted to take the bridge. The only possible saving grace in the whole mess was that even though he'd managed to be the first lover of his brother's betrothed, at least Trez wasn't likely to be shattered.

  Not because of that, at any rate.

  Small comfort.

  Wasn't life grand.

  The good news? He wasn't going to have to be worried about any of this female shit again for a long while. After this experience? He was going back into the land of the left hand. Celibacy had worked for him thus far, and he was ready to re-embrace himself, so to speak.

  s'Ex came in properly and shut the door behind him. "What is this about war?"

  iAm rolled his eyes. "Don't try to tell me that the Queen has made the threat without you. You're the general of her army. Her enforcer. Give me a fucking break."

  "I can assure you," s'Ex muttered as he whipped off his hood, "I would have told her no. We are capable warriors, especially my guards, and we have armaments that no one is aware of. That does not mean it is advisable to court the wrath of Wrath. His reputation over the centuries precedes him."

  iAm looked at the guy. Under other circumstances, he would have been convinced that s'Ex was talking truth, but after having just been snowed by maichen--the Princess, rather--he was not as arrogant about his powers of perception anymore.

  "They're not turning my brother over to your people," he said. Then he glanced at the Princess. "And they have the backing of the symphaths. It doesn't matter what you threaten or what you do, where you go or who you try to strong-arm, Wrath and the Brothers are not going to give him to you."

  "You make it sound as if I want him." Her voice grew hoarse. "I do not. I shall take no male unto my body or my heart."

  He shrugged. "That would be poetic. If you hadn't already proven how great a liar you can be."

  The flare of pain in her eyes was something he refused to dwell on. Hell, for all he knew, she was just disappointed she'd gotten caught.

  Jesus, if she had mated his brother, would she have expected these little rolls in bed to continue--

  Stop it. Just cut the crap, he told his brain. Given the number of things he could legitimately beat himself over the head with, he really shouldn't be adding hypotheticals to the list.

  "How did you find out about this?" s'Ex asked. "This declaration?"

  iAm looked over at the male. "A call came in to the audience house. It was from an unidentified number on an untraceable line, but more to the point, as no one else in Caldwell knows about my brother's situation with the s'Hisbe--or the mourning period of the Queen--it had to be legit. There was too much inside information, and as for how they got the number? It's no big secret."

  Interesting how he'd used the they there.

  Yeah, he was beginning to feel vampire, not Shadow, regardless of his DNA. Then again, Wrath and the Brotherhood had offered him and his brother food, shelter, friendship, loyalty.

  The s'Hisbe had only been full of demands and jails.

  "When you go back there," iAm said, "you can tell them my brother and I aren't staying with the vampires anymore, and Wrath and the Brothers have no knowledge of where we have gone. We are going to disappear, and none of you"--he glared at the Princess--"will be able to find us."

  Another bene of this royal reveal of hers?

  The one thing that might have torn him up at the idea of leaving, the one tie he might have had to here, was now gone.

  Leaving Caldwell, leaving the United States, getting good and gone and staying that way was probably going to be healthy for him.

  Shit knew they had enough money to go for a century even if they never earned another penny. And although he would be sad to see the last of the King and the Brotherhood and that whole household, if it avoided war, he was prepared to leave them.

  He and Trez were out of here.

  For good.

  *

  As iAm went over to the sliding glass door, Catra had to yell at herself not to run after him. It all seemed like such a nightmare, everything about the evening.

  He did not look back at her as he left.

&
nbsp; And even though she could not blame him, she wanted to cry out.

  Closing her eyes, she bowed her head and breathed into her palms.

  "Do not tell me you fell in love with him," s'Ex said grimly.

  Forcing herself to drop her hands and address the executioner, she met his eye. "Why were you here? You couldn't have been following me. I was careful."

  He looked away. "I am not unfamiliar with this place."

  "You have been here before?"

  "You are not the only one who wishes to be free from time to time. Those two brothers owed me certain . . . favors, shall we say."

  When he stopped there, she sensed there was pain in him. Deep pain. And she wondered if perhaps he had not been mourning his infant in this private place, mourning the loss that had been decreed by the stars.

  Staring at the proud male, she found herself forming a kinship of sorts with him. She would ne'er have guessed he was unhappy or unfulfilled in his lot, and perhaps he was not. But he had had to sacrifice his own flesh and blood for the traditions . . . and for her mother.

  Or been forced to, because of the stars.

  "I am sorry," she said.

  "Whate'er for?"

  "You are well aware of what."

  It was rare that a male such as he would duck eyes to avoid a stare, but he did that now. "I am unaware of what you speak."

  Refocusing, she knew they had to leave, and for several reasons. She was very clear, however, that this would be the last time she stepped foot in this place that held such memories for her. Though she had known iAm for mere nights, it had been . . . a lifetime.

  Departing from here was like closing the door on the one bright spark she had e'er had.

  "Let us proceed," s'Ex said, as if he read her mind, sensed her emotions.

  Without further conversation, they donned their hoods, went to the door, and stepped out. The wind was so strong and cold that it stole her breath away, and for a moment, she couldn't concentrate and dematerialize. Soon enough, however, she was off along with s'Ex, traveling to the Territory.

  When they re-formed, it was in the forest to the rear of the retaining wall. In her maid's disguise, she would never have been allowed through the front entrance--

  Something was wrong.

  Several guards were clustered around the back entrance, talking with animation.

  "Stay here," s'Ex ordered. "And don't argue with me."

  "They won't know who I am."

  "Unless someone figured out you left."

  She had been careful, she thought.

  Except . . . her mother was onto her, wasn't she.

  s'Ex took a step forward. Stopped. Pivoted around and indicated to the left. "There's a secret panel about a quarter of a mile that way. I'll meet you there as soon as I can."

  Catra frowned, and was curious when she had a sudden protective urge over s'Ex. The Queen's executioner was more than able to take care of himself, however.

  Unless, of course, he was somehow found sneaking her back in. Then he was in mortal danger.

  "I regret the position I have placed you in," she said.

  "Regret is not a luxury you and I can afford. Go that way. I'll get you to your quarters somehow."

  With that he strode off, not bothering to hide his footsteps. And at the sound of cracking sticks, the guards drew weapons, prepared to attack.

  "'Tis I," s'Ex announced.

  The fact that the guards did not relax made her worried.

  "You are wanted," one of them said suspiciously. "The Princess is gone."

  "I know. I have been out looking for her."

  "AnsLai has been in search of you," another added.

  "Then I shall go to him now and make my report." He dropped his voice to a threat. "Unless you are of a mind to attempt to prevent me access."

  "The Princess is not in her quarters," a third repeated.

  Catra swallowed hard. They still had not put their weapons away.

  "Did you not hear that I have gone looking for her in the forest? She has been dressing as a maid. She could easily have gone out this way for a nocturnal stroll."

  With subtle movements, s'Ex reached behind his back, his hand finding a flap in his robing and ducking inside. When he casually retracted his arm, the biggest serrated knife she had ever seen emerged with it.

  And yet his voice continued calmly. "She has no food, no shelter, no weapons, and she is not capable of existing on her own. Where exactly do you think she would go? It is far more likely that she is within the Territory, or even in the palace itself."

  "They said you helped her escape."

  "Who says?"

  "AnsLai."

  Ah, yes, the high priest that was her mother's other right hand.

  Could this be an attempted coup against the executioner?

  "Who exactly do you think ordered me to go look for the Princess?" s'Ex asked. "Or are you telling me that the Queen's command is not as powerful as a priest's? Is that what you would like me to carry back to your ruler? Because I will, along with your dead bodies."

  Instantly, everything changed, the situation defused, the guards resheathing their weapons, s'Ex tucking his blade into the folds of his robe at his thigh.

  A moment later, he was inside the walls.

  Standing alone in the darkness, Catra wrapped her arms about herself and shivered. As the cold night enveloped her, and the enormity of what was happening sank in, all she heard was iAm's voice in her head:

  My brother just lost his shellan.

  She died in front of him, and he spent most of the day and some of the night preparing her body for a goddamn funeral pyre.

  Then he got to watch her burn until there was nothing left but ashes on the cold ground.

  And I just learned that your mother is prepared to attack the only people who have ever tried to take care of me and Trez if he isn't delivered on her doorstep tomorrow at midnight.

  For so long she had been in the shadows, a peripheral player to the true power of her people. As the heir to the throne, she was supposed to have no present influence.

  That time had passed.

  She had always respected the traditional ways. But having experienced heartbreak and loss personally? She couldn't let this continue.

  iAm's hurt and anger had transformed her in a meaningful way. She had injured him, compromised him, lied to him. He was right; she had been selfish.

  There had to be a way to stop all this. Stop the war. Allow Trez and iAm to be free. Let herself be . . .

  Well, if not free, then at least not a poison that infected others and ruined their lives--all because of some astrological record that didn't for one moment take into account personal choice, personal emotions, personal lives.

  Walking off in the direction s'Ex had told her to go, she tried to be silent and stick to the thickest parts of the forest.

  She wasn't sure exactly where the hidden panel was.

  And had no idea what she was going to do if s'Ex didn't show up. Or . . . if he had a change of heart and, either through self-interest or self-survival, turned her over to her mother.

  But after a lifetime of being proper, she was going down fighting.

  SEVENTY-SIX

  There were plans to be made.

  As iAm took form in the back parking lot of Sal's Restaurant, he was all about the parachute. Checking his watch, he took note of the time--he had about twelve hours to get everything arranged before he and Trez could leave. Tickets he would get online. The SUV was already gassed up. Banks and lawyers opened at nine--although he'd been keeping things in good order on those fronts so he was going to be able to get seriously liquid very fast.

  Xhex could take over shAdoWs and The Iron Mask if she wanted. If she didn't, they could leave those to Big Rob and Silent Tom. God knew those two bastards were co-owners by virtue of sweat equity alone. And Sal's?

  Well, that was going to go to his head chef, Antonio diSenza. The guy was on the ball, good with the front of the hou
se and the back. And he would treat the rest of the staff well.

  All those transfers were what the lawyers were going to be for. At least he'd been smart enough to get Trez's power of attorney years ago, so he was going to be able to sign over everything without having to bother the guy.

  And as for Trez himself?

  The male was sound asleep; the text from Fritz had come through about ten minutes ago. The plan was to let the poor bastard rest for as long as possible. Then tell him they were going on a trip around the world.

  If the way Trez had been in that bedroom of his was any indication? He wasn't going to put up much fight. He'd been so out-of-it, iAm could have done open-heart surgery on him without putting him on a bypass machine.

  Sooner or later that bubble of exhaustion and shock was going to wear off, and there was going to be some hard-core shit on the other side for sure. But they could cross that divide when they got there: First order of business was to secure the path out of Caldwell. Second was to get Trez moving. Third was to stay ghost.

  As for the Brothers and the King? He was going to sign off to them all via text and leave his phone behind.

  The Shadows could read minds if the situation called for it. If he left no trace and no way of being contacted? Then when Wrath told s'Ex or AnsLai or whomever from the s'Hisbe that he didn't know where they were and didn't help them escape? The truth was going to be verifiable and obvious.

  That way the Brotherhood and the vampires would be safe.

  Walking forward, he passed by the cars of the people he'd been working with for the last two years. Even though they were human, he was going to miss them--although not because he necessarily had deep personal relationships with them. It was more because he had enjoyed this stretch of his life. The cooking, the pretend stress, the demands.

  Compared to what was really on his shoulders, it had been a nice relief, like going to see a movie when you needed a break.

  Besides, here at Sal's? If there was shit wrong, he could always manage to fix it.

  Opening up the rear door, he stopped. The urgent voices, the clattering, the heat, the smells . . . for a moment, he had to blink quickly.

  "Chef!" someone said. "You're back!"

  Instantly, people were coming at him, clapping his palms, talking at him, asking him questions.

  God, I want to stay here, he thought.

  As with so many nights, he changed train tracks in his head, stepping away from the Trez stuff to the things he wished he were free to think about all the time. The place was hopping during the after-hours cleanup, reports that their dining rooms had been full, and that a critic from Food & Wine had come in for a four-top, being told to him over and over.