Shadows of Uprising (Guardian of the Vale Book 2)

by Tamara Shoemaker

  When they reached the bottom step, Marysa squeezed Alayne into a side-hug and minced her way across the room toward Pete. Alayne took a deep breath and moved toward Daymon. His tall frame and dark hair was easy to pick out in the swirling crowd of students as she threaded her way between them. Daymon glanced up as she neared.

  “Good evening, Daymon,” Alayne greeted him formally, suddenly feeling silly in her beautiful dress. She wished she could go put her jeans and hoodie back on. She smoothed the front of the material self-consciously, wishing Marysa had kept her mouth shut about him in their earlier conversation. Now she just felt awkward.

  Daymon's dimple appeared. To Alayne's utter surprise, he executed an exquisite bow, gently pulled her hand upward and touched his lips to the back of it. “Good evening, my lady.” He glanced up at Alayne's face. “You look beautiful, Layne.”

  Alayne blushed, which she felt was ridiculous for someone she knew as well as Daymon. “Thank you, you too. Look nice, I mean.”

  Marysa threaded her way through the crowd, towing Pete behind her. She stopped when she reached them, motioning to the common room at large. “It looks like they're doing the dinner the same as last year. The far windows are open, and people are lining up. Come on, you guys, let's get in line.” She took Pete's arm, grinning at him. In her heels, she was a little taller than he was.

  Alayne took a deep breath and meandered after them. Daymon immediately fell into step beside her. Alayne scanned the room again, anxiously searching for Kyle's familiar features.

  “Did you happen to see Kyle? Is he not coming?” Alayne asked Daymon as they moved slowly through the line toward the window.

  Daymon shrugged. “He wasn't in his room when I came down the hall, and I haven't seen him. Don't know where he is.”

  Alayne bit her lip. Surely he wouldn't avoid her this long; surely he would still want to be her friend. How many times do you think he'll keep coming back, Alayne? You always push him away. You tease, then run, then tease, then run. Shame flushed her cheeks, and she glanced down at the worn carpet, feeling her own injustice toward him. Why did her friendship with him have to be so complicated?

  They reached the window. As Alayne prepared to follow Marysa onto the top step, Daymon scooped her hand into his and slid it into the crook of his elbow. Alayne glanced quickly at his face, but his attention was on the line of students slowly descending the staircase. Alayne flushed for no reason she could understand and turned her own attention that way, too. The line snaked down the marble stairs that hovered in the air, held firmly in place by several Air-Masters who had been hired by Tarry the week before (according to Marysa, who seemed to know everything).

  Alayne was about halfway to the ground when she saw him. He sat far beyond the circle of lanterns that hemmed in the tables and dance floor. His back was to the gathering; he faced the river, his legs drawn up against his chest as he sat in the dirt. The full moon shone against his blond hair and white sweatshirt.

  Daymon looked down at Alayne as her fingers tightened on his arm. He glanced in the direction she was staring. After a long moment, he said quietly, “You go do what you have to do, Alayne. I'll be nearby.”

  Gratefulness washed over Alayne as she looked up at him. “Thanks, Daymon.”

  When she reached the bottom stair, she released Daymon's arm and weaved her way through the tables toward the outside perimeter of lights. A moment later, she stepped into the moonlit darkness and wandered toward the river and Kyle.

  Chapter 12

  Kyle pulled a rock from the dirt at his feet and sent it into the water. As the splash rose up around the rock, he jerked the drops from the gravity and sent them hurtling at the opposite bank. Alayne watched as he repeated the process over and over.

  Finally, she moved closer, and he jerked his head toward her at the rustle of her dress material. He regarded her silently before picking up another rock and tossing it into the river.

  “Hey,” Alayne said softly, crouching next to him. Her dress billowed out around her.

  He batted another pebble against the opposite bank. “You shouldn't sit here,” Kyle said. “You'll get your dress muddy.”

  Alayne sighed. “I'm supposed to be a super-powerful Quadriweave, Kyle. A little mud is easily disposed of.” Bitterness tinged her words.

  Both sat in silence for a while. Kyle had depleted his supply of rocks. After a while, he stopped throwing them.

  “Does it really bother you?” Kyle asked. “Being a Quadriweave?”

  Alayne shrugged. Her shoulders felt too warm; she released the heat she had sheathed them in, and immediately, the cold pressed around her. She shivered, but enjoyed the sensation. “I guess there are advantages; I don't have to rely on anyone else for anything. I can pretty much do anything I set my mind to.” She scratched the dirt with one manicured fingernail. Marysa was going to kill her for that. “But it gets lonely, too.” She sighed. “I've always hated extra attention, standing out from the crowd. It's one reason why I was terrified they'd send me to Andova last year when they still accepted Elementals from half-Elemental families. I'm not a rich Justice's kid, and I would likely have been the only one like me at that school. I just wanted to... fit in.” She sighed. “But it hasn't worked out that way. Now I know I'm not like anyone else because of the Vale, so there's always a wall between me and other people.” She paused. “And then, there are always people like Simeon Malachi and your mom who want what I have and won't stop at much to get it.”

  Kyle shifted uncomfortably, as he always did when she made any reference to his mother. “Which gets a little inconvenient, I suppose.” Kyle managed a wry smile.

  “It doesn't help.” Alayne's legs started to fall asleep, so she sat down on the grass beside Kyle and stretched her legs in front of her.

  After a moment, Kyle took a deep breath and spoke. “I just wanted to say, Layne, I'm sorry for how I acted yesterday. I was being a jerk.”

  “No.” Alayne shook her head. “I—well, we've already talked about this. I still have a lot of healing to do, and in the process of that, I've hurt my closest friends. I should be the one apologizing, not you.”

  Kyle's gaze was intent on her face. Even in the dim moonlight, she could see his intense stare. “I wish you'd trust me, Layne.”

  Alayne's eyebrows arched in surprise. “I do, Kyle.” Heat flooded her cheeks as she remembered Daymon's insinuation after her talk with Kyle, and defensiveness surged inside. She knew Kyle better than most, and Daymon's assumptions angered her.

  Kyle traced a finger over the back of Alayne's hand. “Then why don't you give me a chance?”

  “A chance for what?” She knew, of course, but the answer she had prepared hitched in her throat.

  “A chance to show you how much I care.” His voice was thick, nearly syrupy, with a note that stung Alayne, although she couldn't pinpoint the reason. “A chance to get close to you. Let me through those defenses you've put up, the ones that keep everyone out since last year.”

  “Kyle—”

  “Are you afraid?” The challenge was an insult, and Alayne stiffened.

  “Absolutely not!” The outrage she felt pulsed in her words. “Are you daring me to go out with you?”

  “No.” Penance immediately darkened his tone. “No, Layne, I just—I need you.”

  Silence fell and pity returned as Alayne studied the profile Kyle turned to her, his gaze out over the moonlit-tipped water.

  “You have me.”

  “Do I?” So much sadness flooded those two words that tears pricked Alayne's eyes.

  Alayne pushed herself to her feet and paced to the water, her arms folded against the cold. She wasn't ready to warm herself yet. “Kyle, I—I know I said that all you'll ever have from me is pity. That was unkind of me, and I'm sorry I said it.”

  He cleared his throat, but emotion still clogged his words when he spoke. “I haven't thought of much else since you said it.”

  Alayne's lips tightened. “I know.” She turne
d to face him and found he had approached her from behind, and now only a few inches separated them. She took a surprised step backward, but his hands caught her upper arms.

  “Alayne,” he said, “I'll take even your pity. Please. My life without you is as bland as sawdust. I need you,” he repeated.

  Alayne licked her lips. “Okay.” It went against the grain; she was still loyal to Jayme's memory, and she could admit even to herself that she felt no romantic attachment to Kyle. But if she could help him past this deep slump into which he'd sunk, she could call it a victory. Any friend would do the same. Well, most friends. She thought of Marysa's serious words to her earlier that day, but shoved them aside uncomfortably.

  His eyebrows winged upward. “Okay?”

  “Okay. We can... be... a couple, Kyle, if that's what you want.”

  A slow grin spread across Kyle's face, and his hands traced down Alayne's arms until his fingers slid through hers. “Yes, I want that. I know you're not sure, but I'll make you glad for this, Layne.”

  He pulled her close, his hard lips mashing hers. Alayne allowed it for a moment, and then stepped back.

  Kyle was instantly contrite. “I'm sorry.”

  Alayne cleared her throat. “Don't be,” she said, covering the tremor she heard beneath the vocal fibers. “It's fine.”

  Kyle took her at her word and pulled her close again, this time touching her lips more gently, sliding his hands up her back to her neck, prolonging the moment as long as possible. When he stepped back, bright spots of color darkened his cheeks beneath the moon's glow. He didn't say anything, and Alayne felt absurdly uncomfortable. “Thanks,” she said, calling herself every name in the book. Who thanked their new boyfriend for a kiss they didn't want? And then, “Shall we head back up to the dance? I sort of left Daymon stranded up there.”

  The fevered spark in Kyle's eyes quenched into deep blackness. “Okay, but Layne? He's going to have to get used to us, you know, being together now. So...”

  “So what?”

  “It'd be nice if he could give us some privacy now and then.”

  Alayne yanked on the heat element and slid it back over her arms as they turned for the school and the outside lights. “He's really good about that, Kyle. He's never obtrusive.”

  “No.” The answer was nearly growled. “But he's always there.”

  Alayne half laughed. “You're being ridiculous, Kyle. It's for my protection. Mine, and the Vale's.”

  Kyle said nothing, but slid his hand through hers as the prairie grasses parted beneath their feet. A tense new awareness existed between them. She noticed Kyle's gaze slide her way several times before they drew close to the spire.

  “What?” she asked.

  “Nothing.” Kyle shrugged, but a grin cropped out on his face anyway. “I'm just having a hard time believing that this is really happening.”

  “I—let's not change much, Kyle,” she said as he tried to pull her close again. “At least, not for a while.”

  He nodded slowly. “Whatever you say, Layne. You set the pace. I'll go as slow as you like.”

  Will you? Alayne had her doubts. He was so brash and impatient sometimes. And she wouldn't be ready for romance for a long, long time. They continued their walk to the spire. Kyle's fingers brushed the back of her hand, spun her ring, clasped her hand more tightly in his. Alayne glanced ahead at the dance and noticed Daymon standing in the shadows outside the circle of lamps, watching them. For some reason, embarrassment streaked through her as she studied his upright frame, his arms crossed over his chest. He cut an imposing figure against the dark night, and—he'd seen Kyle kiss her. Of course, he had. It would be a by-product of his Guardianship, and she had no reason to be ashamed.

  But she felt inexplicably embarrassed.

  She shoved the feeling aside and scanned the tables for Marysa, wondering if her friend was having a good time with her dance partner.

  But the tables disappeared. The sun shone so brightly all around that Alayne, used to the darkness, was blinded.

  The spire rose up and up and up into the heavens, and as she shaded her eyes to see it, she realized flags flew from every floor on the structure. On each of them were two large letters, EA, and behind the EA, a circle of three rings interconnected.

  Alayne narrowed her eyes. “Kyle, look!” she started to say, but she couldn't understand the words coming from her mouth; it was like trying to speak underwater. She glanced around her, but Kyle wasn't there.

  Back at the spire, movement churned the front walk. People, official-looking people, moved back and forth from the dock to the front doors. Guards stood on either side of the chute entrance, their hands on their weapons, their eyes fixed directly ahead. The same symbol from the flag was emblazoned on their uniforms.

  An boat rocked at the dock, and a moment later, the guards at the entrance pulled themselves into a salute. The people on the walk were immediately shepherded to the side by more guards when a man emerged from the boat, stepping lightly onto the dock. From this distance, his uniform looked similar to the ones the guards wore, but the overt respect that cleared the sidewalk in front of him denoted leadership. A commander of high rank.

  He was too far distant for Alayne to see clearly, but she wondered suddenly if Malachi had ever had military training. She crouched in the tall grass and started to weave her way toward the spire, but a hand grabbed her arm.

  Alayne blinked. It was dark; the sudden change once again blinded her. She gasped.

  “Layne?” Kyle's voice was low, urgent, concerned.

  Alayne's shoulders sagged. She waited for the cold drain from her brain to finish flowing into the ring and then sighed. “I think it's more trouble than it's worth, wearing this stupid thing. It shows me nonsense, and if it's supposed to mean something, I haven't figured it out yet.” She looked up at Kyle, a plea in her voice. “Do you think I might be going crazy?”

  “Of course not.” His answer was too quick; Alayne double-checked his smooth expression. He's worried and won't admit it.

  He went on. “I don't know what the ring shows you or what it means, but you most definitely are not crazy. Of course not,” he repeated with too much assertiveness. He held her upper arms and massaged them gently.

  Alayne bit her lip.

  “Alayne.” Professor Manders's voice slashed through the moment.

  Surprised, Alayne turned to the professor, whose silhouette hurried through the darkness toward them. “Yes, sir?”

  “Come with me.”

  Alayne shot a glance at Kyle and another at Daymon, who nodded before turning back to the dance.

  “Can Kyle come, too, Professor?”

  Manders hesitated, shooting a searching glance at Kyle. “Another time, perhaps, Alayne. At the moment, I need to see you alone.” He turned his back and walked toward the outer perimeter of lights. Alayne stared after him, frustrated. Her question had been more than asking for permission; it was meant to communicate to the professor that she trusted Kyle enough to allow him access to her secrets.

  Just because she trusted Kyle, though, didn't mean Manders did. She would have to convince him. She glanced at Kyle, and he shrugged lightly. “I'll wait,” he said, and she followed Manders into the darkness. The professor led the way around the base of the spire, and minutes later, Alayne bumped into the hedge at the back of the spire.

  “Come quickly,” Manders hissed.

  Alayne jumped down the steps into the absolute darkness, the cold and damp pressing around her. Once again, she pulled her sheath of warmth around her shoulders.

  Manders's penlight flashed on. “Follow me, Alayne.”

  “What's going on?” Alayne hustled after the professor.

  “I've managed to get a message through to your parents, and they're waiting to talk to you in the mirror. But it can't be long. Secrecy is vital for their safety.”

  Alayne resisted the impulse to burst into tears. It had been so long since she'd heard from her parents. She had only the word
of Manders that they were safe and hidden, and she didn't know where.

  Manders was practically running by now. Alayne jogged after him to keep up.

  “Won't the other professors notice you're gone, sir?” Alayne asked as they dodged into another tunnel and ran down three long sets of stairs. The doors on both sides of the tunnels never ended.

  “Most of them have drunk too much by this point,” Manders tossed over his shoulder, “but that's no reason to throw caution to the wind. We'll have to be quick, Alayne. For your parents' sake as well as for our own.”

  Alayne swallowed, her mind flashing through everything she wanted to talk to them about. Jayme. Kyle. Professor Pence. Her visions. The ring. She tried to prioritize the most important things first, keenly aware that she wouldn't have time to tell them everything.

  The strode up another set of stairs, turned into a short tunnel to the left, and then swung right into another one circling around and down.

  Alayne was thoroughly lost. “How do you ever find your way out again?”

  “It's not my first time down.” Manders stopped in front of a moss-covered door. He pulled a key from his pocket and inserted it into the lock. The door groaned open, and Alayne stepped inside.

  Her mirror gleamed in the glow from Manders's penlight, though no reflection showed in the glass itself. The flat blackness of the glass seemed to swallow up the rest of the room. Alayne shivered.

  “My pen is running out of power, Layne,” Manders said. “You'll have to use flame; there's no lantern in here.”

  Alayne immediately felt the heat rush to her hands. She pulled a ball of fire to her palm, set it on the floor near the mirror, and notched the bend. The flicker of the flames danced across the walls, making their shadows hop and jump as they approached the mirror.

  “How are we going to talk to them, Professor?” Alayne asked. “They'll need a mirror on their end, won't they?”

  Manders nodded. “There are three—”