The Shadow of What Was Lost

by James Islington

  Finally Geladra glanced at Elocien, who gave her a slight nod in return. “We should go,” she said, tugging on Deldri’s arm. “Your father and Torin have other things to speak of.”

  Deldri pouted but acquiesced, rising and giving Wirr an abrupt, affectionate hug before leaving. Wirr grinned as he watched them go.

  “Deldri is growing up,” he said.

  The duke nodded absently. “Too fast,” he sighed. “I’ve already had Houses asking whether their sons might be a suitable match.”

  “Already?” Wirr shook his head. “They really are vultures.”

  Elocien stared at him for a moment, then chuckled. “I see your time away has done nothing to dampen your dislike of them,” he said with amusement. His smile faded, expression turning serious. “I’m so relieved you are safe, Torin. When the news came about the school…”

  Wirr grimaced. “I suppose I have some explaining to do.”

  He spent the next hour relating his last couple of months to his father. He told Elocien most of the story, including Davian’s true role; as much as it hurt, there was little point in keeping his friend’s ability a secret any more. In the end he omitted only Taeris’s real name, and the fact that Taeris and Caeden had accompanied them back.

  Elocien was surprisingly understanding throughout the tale, so much so that for a moment Wirr considered telling him the truth about Taeris and Caeden as well… but he dismissed the idea as soon as he’d had it. Those two needed every opportunity to convince the Tol to restore Caeden’s memories, without Administration’s interference. And he remembered his father’s opinion of Taeris, all too clearly. “A monster” was what he’d called him three years earlier. “The very worst of the Gifted.”

  No. He couldn’t say anything. The risk was too great.

  When Wirr had finished, Elocien let out a long breath.

  “You’ve been through so much,” he said, shaking his head in wonder. “I want to be angry at you for going to Desriel, but… it seems that running away ended up saving your life. For that I am truly grateful.” He leaned back. “I should tell you, too—we found out about the Elder who tricked your friend into leaving. Tol Athian has him safely locked away in their dungeon, but he refuses to say anything.”

  Wirr felt his eyebrows rise; with all that had happened, he’d almost forgotten how this had all started. “That is good news,” he said, nodding. He determined to pay Ilseth Tenvar a visit at some point.

  Elocien leaned forward. “So. Your letters seemed to indicate you were happy enough, but tell me. How did you find the last few years?”

  Wirr thought for a moment. “They were the happiest of my life,” he said sincerely. The sentiment was laced with sadness and regret, though. Any thoughts of his life at the school always would be now.

  Elocien smiled. “I’m glad. I always wondered whether it was the right choice, sending you there.” He bit his lip. “Given what has been happening here, I suspect it was the best choice I’ve made in a long time.”

  “You’re talking about Uncle?”

  Elocien nodded. “He’s… ill, Torin. I think he—”

  A knock at the door cut him off; after a few seconds the door opened and a young woman appeared. A Shadow, Wirr realized absently, not really paying attention.

  The girl’s eyes were on his father. “Duke Andras,” she began in a formal tone, “I have some news I think…”

  She trailed off.

  Wirr started as he realized the girl was staring at him, mouth agape. He flushed, shuffling uncomfortably… and then frowned. There was something familiar about her. He looked up, studying her black-scarred features properly for the first time.

  “Asha?” he whispered in disbelief.

  Suddenly he was being wrapped in a fierce embrace.

  “Wirr!” Asha was hugging him so tightly it was difficult to breathe. “It’s really you?”

  Wirr laughed, though it was a mostly stunned sound. “It’s really me, Ash.” Remembering where he was, he dazedly disentangled himself and glanced over at his father, who was looking on in amusement.

  “Asha is from Caladel,” he explained to Elocien. “She can be trusted, though—I’ll swear to it. It’s not a problem that she knows where I’ve been, these past few years.” He turned back to Asha. “Asha, this is going to come as a shock, but I need to tell you something.”

  There was silence for a moment as Elocien and Asha exchanged amused glances.

  “I know, Wirr. Or is it Torin now?” said Asha, green eyes sparkling.

  Wirr gaped at her in silence for a few seconds.

  “How?” he asked.

  “Your father told me.”

  Wirr glanced at Elocien, who nodded his confirmation; Wirr rubbed his forehead, trying to come to grips with the information. “But… why?”

  “Because I trust her,” said the duke simply.

  Wirr shook his head in disbelief. “I… but you…” He trailed off, dumbstruck.

  Asha laughed. “As eloquent as I remember.”

  Wirr smiled back, heart lighter than it had been since he’d first heard about the attack at Caladel. “How is this possible? How did you get away, and how are you here?” His grin slipped a little. “And fates, Asha… why are you a Shadow?”

  “Slow down, Wirr. Too many questions at once. It’s a long story.” She paused. “Though something you should also know… I’m one of the Representatives for Tol Athian now.”

  Wirr stared at her, certain she was joking. When she stared back, entirely serious, he just shook his head.

  “I must be dreaming,” he muttered, though the smile didn’t leave his face.

  Asha suddenly bit her lip. “Wirr. Is Davian with you?”

  Wirr’s smile faded, and he looked away. “Ah. I’m so sorry, Ash.” His voice cracked. “He’s… we lost him.”

  Asha watched Wirr for a few seconds, then shook her head. “Did you see him die?” Her tone was calm.

  Wirr paused, thrown a little by her response. “No, but… he’s gone, Ash. I want to believe he might have survived, too, but—”

  “He’s not dead, Wirr.” There was certainty in Asha’s voice. She stared at him for a long moment, then looked away. “I know he’s not dead.”

  Elocien coughed. “You two have a lot to catch up on,” he observed. He gripped Wirr by the shoulder. “I have other matters that need seeing to right now, but you can stay for a while, talk. Once people know you’re back, your movements are going to be watched fairly closely. You may not get an opportunity like this for some time.”

  Wirr nodded, rising and embracing his father. “It’s good to see you.”

  Elocien smiled at his son. “You, too.”

  “Elocien,” Asha called out before he departed. “Can I tell him…”

  Elocien gave her a slight nod. “That’s fine.” He left.

  Once his father was gone, Wirr turned back to Asha, a wide smile on his face. For the first time in a long time, his heart was light.

  “Now,” he said, still grinning. “Tell me everything.”

  Chapter 42

  Caeden shuffled his feet, unable to hide his discomfort.

  He glanced again around the spacious, well-lit room, its luxurious furnishings just as intimidating as the other finery he’d seen on his way into the palace. Aelric reclined in a well-cushioned chair in the corner, looking relaxed. Taeris was also seated, but in stark contrast to Aelric was visibly tense, leaning forward and staring absently at the thick carpet, his shoulders hunched.

  Caeden understood his apprehension. Their entrance to the palace had gone surprisingly smoothly once Aelric had vouched for them at the gate, but that had been the easy part. Now they needed Karaliene herself—Karaliene, who had so obviously mistrusted them in Thrindar—to believe them. To help them, rather than turn them over to Administration. Even given Aelric and Dezia’s relationship with the princess, Caeden still expected armed guards to burst through the door and arrest them at any moment. From the way Taeris looked,
Caeden suspected the older man was thinking the same thing.

  The rattle of the doorknob turning made him flinch, and he straightened as Taeris and Aelric both rose. The other two men bowed as Karaliene slipped into the room, alone; after a moment of relief Caeden quickly, awkwardly copied them.

  There was silence for a few seconds as the princess studied him and Taeris, and Caeden flushed beneath her disapproving gaze. Even so, just as he had at Thrindar, he couldn’t help but stare a little, too. It wasn’t just that Karaliene was attractive—though she undoubtedly was, and he was far from blind to the fact. But she had a… presence. A way of commanding the attention of everyone in the room, just by being in it, that Caeden found more than a little mesmerizing.

  He dropped his eyes again before his staring became too obvious, and Karaliene fortunately didn’t seem to have noticed. She sat, gesturing for the others to do the same.

  “I cannot stay long, but I wish to make one thing clear before we begin,” said the princess to them as they took their seats. “I am here because people I trust believe you can help fight the Blind. That does not equate to me trusting you.” She tapped her teeth with a manicured fingernail, watching them intently. “Now. My understanding is that Tol Athian’s Council is refusing to help you, and that you would like me to use my influence to see if their minds can be changed. Is this correct?”

  Taeris blinked, looking a little taken aback at Karaliene’s straightforwardness. “It is, Your Highness.”

  Karaliene hesitated, glancing across at Aelric for a moment before continuing. “I am willing to do this,” she said, her tone heavy with reluctance. “My name would not be directly involved, but some of the Houses have been trying to gain my favor for a while now. I can think of at least one that has a loose alliance with Athian, and would be willing to pressure the Council to help you, without asking too many questions about who you are.”

  “Of course, Your Highness,” said Taeris quickly. “I can’t tell you how—”

  Karaliene held up a hand, forestalling him. “I haven’t finished. There are conditions.” She looked Taeris in the eye. “Fortunately, I have had your… past explained to me. That, and the fact that you warned us about the Boundary before anyone had even heard of the Blind, is in your favor. I am satisfied that you are truly here to help.”

  Taeris’s eyes betrayed a glimmer of surprise, but he nodded in mute acknowledgement.

  Karaliene’s gaze hardened as it switched to Caeden, who shrank a little beneath it. “Your companion, on the other hand, remains a mystery. He has been accused of a terrible crime, regardless of where it was committed—and there has been no evidence to suggest that he was not the perpetrator, not even from his own lips. I am taking an enormous risk letting a man like that into my city, regardless of who has vouched for him. As such, I will require something more from him.” Her tone was cold, and she still addressed her words to Taeris, as if even speaking to Caeden was distasteful to her.

  Caeden stared at the ground, swallowing. It was harsh treatment, but for all he knew it could be justified. “I am willing to do whatever you need of me, Your Highness,” he said, keeping his tone meek. If they could not convince the princess to help them, their chances of making any progress with the Tol were slim.

  Karaliene nodded, then walked over to her desk and picked something up out of one of the drawers. Caeden paled as he recognized the black torc in her hand.

  “You want me to wear a Shackle,” he said quietly.

  “Yes. And I will be the one to bind you,” replied Karaliene, looking him in the eye. “Other people have vouched for you, believe you could be the key to defeating the Blind—and they may well be right. But ultimately, I am the one giving you refuge here. You’re my responsibility while you are in Ilin Illan.” She arched an eyebrow at him. “So these are my terms. You will wear the Shackle, and under no circumstances will you leave the palace grounds without my express permission. Agreed?”

  Caeden hesitated. He knew there was little choice in the matter, knew that they were beyond fortunate to have the princess’s help at all. But the thought of putting a Shackle on again made him cringe.

  And… it would mean he had no way to slip out, no way to speak to Havran Das without the princess’s knowing he had left.

  Eventually, though, he took a deep breath and bared his left forearm, holding it out toward Karaliene.

  “Agreed.”

  The princess examined him for a moment longer, and his breath caught as he locked gazes with her. Her expression became a hint more disapproving after a second, and Caeden reddened as he realized he was staring again; he looked away awkwardly, only to blush further as he saw Aelric glaring at him from the side. He finally fixed his eyes firmly on the ground, flinching as Karaliene touched the cold metal to his forearm.

  The black metal turned to liquid, slithering and molding itself to his skin. The world immediately became duller, more gray, as if some of the color had been leeched out of it. Caeden sighed, then smoothed down his sleeve again.

  Karaliene paused, then gave a satisfied nod. “I can feel the link.”

  Then she turned back to Taeris, evidently done with Caeden. “You may stay here, too, if you wish—there are few enough Administrators around, so it’s as safe a place for you as any. You should both be able to pass as servants; I’ll have someone organize quarters and some appropriate clothes. Use the servants’ entrance if you want to come and go without attracting too much attention. Just don’t wander too far into the main parts of the palace, and try to keep your excursions to the evenings, when there are fewer people about. If an Administrator does happen to recognize you, there will be nothing more I can do to help you.”

  “Understood. Thank you, Your Highness,” said Taeris.

  Karaliene inclined her head and then glanced across at Aelric, who was still scowling at Caeden. “Aelric. Can you please show these two to the east wing, and have Bacira make up some quarters there—maybe use the rooms near the gardens that ’Zia and I sometimes use for study? They’re near enough to the other servants to not arouse suspicion, but isolated enough that no one should really notice that they are being occupied.”

  Aelric finally tore his gaze from Caeden, bowing to the princess. “Of course, Your Highness.”

  The princess considered them for a moment; her eyes again met Caeden’s, and again his stomach fluttered. He looked to the side straight away this time, inwardly cursing himself. Reactions like that could only land him in trouble here.

  Oblivious to Caeden’s thoughts, Karaliene gave them all a tight nod, indicating she was leaving. The three men stood in deference.

  “I’ll set things in motion,” she said to Taeris. She slipped out the door.

  There was silence for a moment, and then Aelric gestured to the hallway. “We should get moving. The quicker we get to the servants’ wing, the less likely you are to be spotted,” he said, eyes hardening a little when he looked at Caeden.

  Caeden flushed again, but nodded, silently grateful that things had gone so smoothly. He and Taeris exchanged relieved glances, and then they trailed after Aelric.

  * * *

  Caeden lay on his new bed, staring at the ceiling.

  He’d been trying to sleep for hours now, battling both the warm evening and his own frustrations in search of rest. A breeze sighed through the open window, providing momentary relief from the heat and accompanied by the distant murmuring of the city below. It was well past midnight by his reckoning, but from the sounds of it, Ilin Illan was far from asleep, too.

  Despite its being only his first night at the palace, this new situation was already beginning to chafe at him. It would take time for Karaliene’s political machinations to achieve anything at the Tol, and Caeden accepted that. But that didn’t mean he should be sitting idle. He felt sure he could be doing something—anything other than just lying around, hoping that either Taeris or the princess could eventually convince the Council to help him.

  He stared out t
he window and pondered again how best to contact Havran Das, the merchant Alaris had talked about. He’d ventured outside his room earlier for some fresh air and taken careful note of the guards’ routine patrols, even spotting a small supply gate he thought would be unattended at night. The only other brief excursion from his quarters had been to the library, where, much to his delight, he’d found more detailed maps of Ilin Illan than he’d had time to look over.

  Havran Das’s store had been easy to locate—it was clearly marked, large and in the upper city, quite close to the palace itself. An influential and successful man, then. Caeden didn’t know whether that made him feel better or more nervous… but for the moment it barely mattered. All the information he’d gathered was useless if he couldn’t find a way to slip his Shackle.

  He sighed, staring resentfully at the black metal sitting snug around his arm, a constant reminder that Karaliene could pinpoint his location at any time. For all the finery around him, he was effectively just a prisoner once more.

  He gave the Shackle a gentle tap, wondering if there was any way to remove it. Nothing happened except for a slight metallic ring. He closed his eyes, concentrating, trying to will it to fall off. He wanted it gone, needed it gone, so he could find out who he really was.

  Still nothing. He scowled, opening his eyes again and gazing morosely at the ceiling. Traveling here, he’d felt as if he had a greater purpose; the blazing light of his tattoo and the sense of urgency Taeris had lent their journey had done little to dampen that. But he was isolated here in his room, the time already beginning to drag—and with the Vessel now secured in Tol Athian, his tattoo gave off only a dull, flickering glow. It all combined to make him feel cast adrift, as if his opportunity to get answers was starting to slip away.