Shadow Weaver Series, Book 1

by MarcyKate Connolly

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  Copyright © 2018 by MarcyKate Connolly

  Cover and internal design © 2018 by Sourcebooks, Inc.

  Cover design by Nicole Hower/Sourcebooks, Inc.

  Cover art by Zdenko Basic

  Sourcebooks and the colophon are registered trademarks of Sourcebooks, Inc.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems—except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews—without permission in writing from its publisher, Sourcebooks, Inc.

  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

  Published by Sourcebooks Jabberwocky, an imprint of Sourcebooks, Inc.

  P.O. Box 4410, Naperville, Illinois 60567-4410

  (630) 961-3900

  Fax: (630) 961-2168

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  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication data is on file with the publisher.

  Contents

  Front Cover

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Back Cover

  For my child.

  I cannot wait to share words and worlds with you.

  Chapter One

  The first time my shadow spoke to me, I was a mere infant in the cradle. They say that on the night I was born, even the stars fled the sky and the moon hid under a dark cloak. That I was a quiet thing, with a shock of black hair and eyes like glittering onyx. I did not scream like other newborn children. And I did not reach for my mother like instinct should have instructed me.

  Instead, I held out my tiny arms and smiled at the shadow in the corner of the room.

  And it smiled back.

  • • •

  It’s my favorite sort of day: stormy. Rain pelts the mansion in a wild rhythm, and the shadows shiver between the trees outside my windows. Everything is cast in lovely shades of darkness.

  Dar—my shadow—is restless beside me, pacing from one corner of the room to the other. Kendra is late, she says. We should play a game outside instead. Can’t you hear the shadows calling to us?

  While the offer is tempting, I want to see Kendra today. At thirteen, she is a year older than me, and her mother is a maid. We play together sometimes, but I’ve barely seen her since she began working in our mansion a couple of months ago. Mother only allowed me to play with Kendra before she was a servant; now she says it isn’t proper to socialize with the help.

  Except for Dar, I’ve never had many friends, and I miss having Kendra around. The Cerelia Comet blessed me with magic, and I was born with the talent of shadow weaving. When I was little, I kept myself entertained by crafting toys from the shadows and playing with the one tethered to my feet. Dar is the only shadow that is my friend. To most people, shadows are things that remain stuck to walls and floors, but for me, they become whatever I wish—tacky, like clay, or as thin as smoke. I can mold them all to my will. Now that I’m older, my shadowcraft has improved. Before me on the low table in the sitting room is an array of shadows I’ve plucked from the corners of the mansion. A dark teapot steams next to three teacups and saucers. A smoky tray holds real biscuits—shadows don’t taste very good—and three carved wooden chairs wait for Kendra to arrive so we can all take our seats.

  Mother is not aware that I invited Kendra to tea today. I do have other games I’d rather play with Dar and the shadows, but Kendra doesn’t seem to like them much. So tea it is.

  Dar settles at my feet for a few moments before we hear a sound in the hallway. Hope warms me, but it is only one of the other servants walking by. I sink into a chair as disappointment swells inside my chest. Kendra is nearly half an hour late. I know she has duties, but she could have come by for a moment or at least sent a note explaining her absence.

  Perhaps your mother kept her away, Dar suggests. She doesn’t like to have you playing with the help anymore.

  “You’re probably right,” I scowl. My mother has no trouble keeping her servants busy. And she does her best to keep everyone away from me.

  I sit up straighter. “Let’s bring Kendra a gift. It might be fun to sneak down to the servants’ quarters after dinner.”

  Dar curves into a smile on the floor. Does this mean we can go outside now?

  I laugh despite the strange heaviness weighing on me. The storm has nearly passed, and the sun is disappearing beyond the horizon. Even now, tiny specks of light flicker among the shadows on our lawn.

  I pick up a jar from a nearby shelf, and Dar and I hurry outside before Mother can scold me for playing in the damp weather. The darkness deepens around us as we enter the woods by my home, the shadows cast by the trees reaching their limbs toward us in welcome. My feet begin to move, and I weave between the moss-covered trunks while Dar hums a tune. Together we dance in the gloaming, coaxing shadows and fireflies into the jar. By the time the jar is full, I am breathless from laughter, but not enough to forget the hollowness that blossomed when Kendra didn’t appear this afternoon.

  “Emmeline!” My mother’s voice stops my feet in their tracks.

  “We better hurry or we’ll be late for dinner.” I secure the lid on my jar. Dar sighs but follows, her shape angling toward the trees like she’d rather remain outdoors. When I close the door behind me, she is at my side again. Even if Mother does keep me from Kendra, I am never alone. I always have Dar to keep me company.

  In the jar, the shadows swirl around tiny flitting dots of light. Kendra always liked pretty things, and these shadows are so lovely, I’m sure she’ll like them too. I hope Mother hasn’t been working her too hard. I slip the jar into a hidden pocket in my skirts.

  “Emmeline!” Mother calls again.

  “Coming,” I call back, and hasten toward the dining room.

  • • •

  After dinner, Dar and I pretend to head for my rooms; then, when Mother and Father aren’t looking, I cloak myself in shadows and we sneak down to the servants’ quarters. Kendra and her parents share a room, and I’ve visited her there once or twice before. She is probably tired from a hard day and forgot all about our tea.

  But when Dar and I hove
r outside her door, ready to knock, I hear voices. My hand pauses inches away from the wooden slats. It is one of the older serving girls, and she and Kendra are laughing. A pang of jealousy shoots through me. Kendra has never laughed with me like that.

  “Emmeline invited you to play tea? Even though she’s twelve years old?”

  I flinch. It isn’t my fault we only play tea. Kendra refuses to play any other shadow games.

  Kendra groans through the door, and I can picture her tossing her pale hair over her shoulders. “She’s crazy. Shadow weavers may be able to make things from shadows—which is bizarre enough—but they’re not supposed to be able to hear and talk to them too. None of the comet-blessed have more than one talent—everyone knows that. But she honestly believes her shadow is a living thing. She even talks to it and pretends it talks back. She’s insane!”

  Heat flashes over my entire body. I brace myself with one hand against the door frame. Their tinkling laughter feels like glass striking my eardrums. Dar growls.

  I may be the only one who can hear Dar, but that doesn’t mean I’m mad.

  She isn’t worth our time, Emmeline. She has a cruel heart. All those times she played and made nice when she really thinks you’re crazy! Dar huffs. To them she is only a shadow stuck to the floors and walls, but to me she is so much more. We’re better off without her.

  The other serving girl finds her voice again. “Well, it’s a good thing you didn’t go. You know what they say about what happened to that neighbor girl, Rose.”

  Kendra’s laughter tapers off. “Emmeline is just crazy enough to be dangerous.”

  My heart sinks all the way into the ground. I shift the jar of shadows in my hands, my palms suddenly slick, and the fireflies wink. The way the dark and light play off each other is beautiful, but I realize now that Kendra never would have appreciated this gift.

  She didn’t say a word hinting at her true feelings when the three of us played with my shadow dolls and drank tea from teapots made of smoke. It was a game she only pretended to enjoy.

  She was never my friend at all.

  “You’re right, Dar.” I climb back up the stairs to my rooms, and the heat begins to vanish, until all I can feel is cold.

  Later that night, while Dar comforts me in my quarters, running her cool fingers through my hair and brushing the tears from my cheeks, the fireflies’ lights go out. I curl into a ball on my bed and send the swirling shadows back to the woods, with a promise that from now on, I’ll only share them with those who will truly appreciate them.

  Chapter Two

  Dar buzzes with excitement as we wait around the corner of the back stairwell the servants always use. It is darker and dustier than the stairs in the main part of the mansion, which is why my shadow suggested it. We are always on the hunt for new games to amuse us. Today is no exception.

  Kendra should be coming by any minute now. I’ve refused to acknowledge her existence ever since I discovered her true feelings. But today we will show her. Dar is real.

  Sometimes I hear the other servants whispering about me when they don’t realize I hide nearby, concealed in a web of shadows—the only way I can get close enough to get to know them. Dar assures me they’re jealous. Most people don’t have magic like I do. Once every twenty-five years, a handful are blessed with gifts when the Cerelia Comet passes over our lands. In the past, people like me were celebrated for their gifts, but over the years, those without magic have grown more resentful of my kind. Especially those of us with talents that aren’t as inherently useful as growing plants quickly or controlling water.

  I thought Kendra was different. She was one of the few people I could talk to in this house, one of the few who I thought had gotten to know me. But I was wrong. She is just like the others.

  It is midday, but there is only one small window in this stairwell, and I’ve made sure to blow out all the candles. The darkness makes me bold, and Dar swells next to me as the minutes tick by on the old grandfather clock down the hall. My shadow is connected to me, but she can move and stretch better than any human.

  Soon we hear it, the clip-clop of Kendra’s too-big hand-me-down shoes carrying the weight of the laundry basket. Dar expands, waiting to be released. I hide in my corner and hold my breath.

  Kendra passes us by without a glance in our direction. She can barely see around the overflowing laundry basket as it is. Dar springs forth, shifting into a giant monster at the last minute, all dark teeth and gaping mouth. Kendra screams and leaps back, and the basket sails away and bounces, breaking in half. She lands awkwardly on one foot and stumbles to her knees, cursing under her breath.

  Dar snickers, snapping back to my side, but my own laugh dies in my throat as I watch Kendra’s face twist in anger. It isn’t quite as funny as I’d hoped it would be after all.

  “Did you have to change to your monster form?” I whisper, pouting. We’d planned for her to mimic my mother’s shadow. Appearing when my mother wasn’t nearby should have been startling enough.

  But that’s my favorite shape, Dar says.

  “Next time, no monster. Stick to the plan,” I whisper.

  Dar sighs. All right, I promise.

  With shaking hands, Kendra begins to put the scattered clothes into a pile. I step out from the shadows where I’ve been hiding.

  “Can I help?” I ask, my hands fidgeting with the edges of my sleeves.

  Kendra skitters back when she sees me, but one foot isn’t working as well as the other now. She leans against the wall and whimpers. “Your tricks are awful, Emmeline,” she says. “And so are you.”

  My face blanches and I turn away from her resentful gaze.

  “Let’s go,” I whisper to Dar. She has swelled up to twice her normal size now. She loves to play games.

  But we will miss the best part, she objects. Dar likes to relish her handiwork and watch the aftereffects of our games, but I have no taste for it today.

  Heaviness fills my chest. I shake my head and scurry down our side of the hallway. Dar has no choice but to follow me. No servants stop me in my hurry; they keep their eyes down and move aside to let me pass.

  I vaguely recall a time when the household staff would look me in the eyes. Back then, Mother and Father were not quite so distant as they are now. But that was before the incident. I’ve barely thought of it in years, but the conversation I overheard between Kendra and the other servant has brought it back to mind recently.

  I was only six years old, playing hide-and-seek in the forest on our estate with a neighbor’s daughter, Rose, who was the same age as me. All I remember is dozing off in my hiding spot after Dar assured me she would keep an eye on the girl and make sure she’d never find me, leading her away from me and deeper into the forest. When I woke up, night had fallen, and the woods were crawling with a search party looking for us both. I returned safely home; Rose did not.

  I cried for days, swearing to my parents that Dar had only intended to lead Rose away from where I hid. But she must have wandered too far.

  Later, I overheard Mother and Father discussing it: as dusk fell, Rose had roamed deeper and deeper into the woods and somehow fell into a pond miles from where I had last seen her. Her family was devastated and moved away. My parents never looked at me the same way again. That was also around the time they began to suggest that I stop telling people that Dar is real.

  I’ve been cloistered ever since.

  Moments after I close the door to my room, there’s a sharp knock.

  “Who is it?” I call.

  “Open the door, Emmeline,” Mother says. My heart sinks. Did she figure out we played a trick on Kendra already?

  I open the door, and Mother steps inside, skirts swaying and catching on the pile of shadow animals I shoved onto the bottom shelf of a bookcase by the door. One shaped like a puppy clings to the edge of her dress and trails after her as she takes a s
eat. She doesn’t even notice. I pick it up from the floor and let it dance and wag in my palm.

  “What are we going to do with you?” she says, eyeing the tiny shadow creature in my hand with distaste.

  I frown and sit on the edge of my four-poster bed, which is decked in white lace just as Mother prefers, while Dar pools at my feet. She’s sulking. We’re going to get into trouble.

  “What do you mean?” If Mother doesn’t know about our game yet, I’m certainly not going to enlighten her.

  But she gives me that look—the one that says she knows what I’ve done and why don’t I just come out with it. I shrug.

  “You cannot treat the servants like that, Emmeline. They are not your playthings.”

  My stomach twists. Drat. She does know.

  Kendra must have told her, Dar murmurs. I’m sure she is right.

  “I don’t know what Kendra told you, but she doesn’t like me. It was just a little fun.”

  Mother crosses her arms over her chest. “Your fun twisted Kendra’s ankle. Your shadow tricks are not at all amusing.”

  My shoulders droop. We hadn’t meant to hurt her.

  “That leaves us with one less servant this week,” Mother continues. “And we are expecting guests.”

  “We are? Who?” My ears perk up. Guests are rare. Mother and Father don’t like to let anyone know about my shadowcraft if they can help it. Guests mean I might have someone new to talk to even just for a little while.

  “An entourage from Zinnia is coming to discuss a possible treaty with our neighboring land Abbacho. They are trying to drum up support among the nobles for uniting us all under one rule and law.” She narrows her eyes. “This is important. There must not be any incidents while they are here. Please do not embarrass us. No tricks, and no mention of your shadow.”

  Her words smart, turning my cheeks pink as though I’ve been struck. I stare at my hands twisting in my skirts. Embarrass them? With so few people around with magic talents, you’d think they’d want to show me off. But they don’t see how wonderful the shadows are, the beauty in the darkness, not like I do.