Shadow and Thorn

by Kenley Davidson

  “I’m eating,” she said. She scraped the bottom of her bowl with her spoon and licked it clean. “Aren’t you hungry?”

  “Food does not interest me at the moment, and it will not interest you either after I show you what I have found.”

  Zara felt Silvay stiffen next to her.

  “Well, why don’t you tell me about it while I finish?”

  “Zara, please.” It didn’t sound nearly so much like “please” as it sounded like “now.”

  “Fine.” She stood up, every motion slow and deliberate. “But I’m coming back here after you show me whatever it is. I’m cold and it’s raining and the fire is warm.”

  She did not offer Rowan her hand, but he took it anyway and pulled her after him down the corridor. It was not a prisoning grip. Rather he smoothed the back of her hand with his thumb, a lover-like gesture that made Zara’s insides churn.

  “Where are we going?”

  “You’ll see.”

  He led her to the second floor, to a pair of wide doors that Zara had been past several times. The room beyond had always been cavernous and empty with a faint smell of dust. All of the windows were dark and shuttered, and given that it seemed an unlikely hiding place, she had never bothered to explore the deeper shadows to find out whether they concealed anything worthwhile.

  “Close your eyes,” Rowan demanded, smiling like a child with a secret.

  “This is ridiculous.” Zara yanked her hand out of his and folded her arms across her chest. “I’m not a little girl anymore, I hate surprises, and I’m not closing my eyes.”

  “Please?”

  The prince was behaving very oddly, even for him. Anything that made him this giddy was likely to be a bad thing for her. But, she needed him to think she was on his side, so she closed her eyes after she rolled them dramatically. “Fine. Just know that if you make me trip or fall I’m telling Malichai not to feed you.”

  “You are safe with me, Zara.” His smooth, golden voice sounded right next to her ear, and she could feel the warmth of his presence at her shoulder. “I would never let you come to harm.”

  “Easy to say,” she muttered. “So where are we going?” She heard the click of the latch, then a puff of air on her face as the doors opened. Rowan’s arm around her shoulders drew her forward, and she just barely managed not to flinch at his touch.

  “There are no lights here yet, but when there are…”

  Zara heard something uncomfortably like awe in Rowan’s voice. “We could go back and find torches,” she suggested.

  “No. Open your eyes.”

  She complied. For a moment, she blinked, trying to adjust to the gloom, but the curtains had been pulled back and there were no shutters on the windows anymore. The storm still raged outside, so the light was dim and gray, but it was enough to make out what had brought Rowan running to fetch her.

  He had found the library.

  Shelf after shelf, row after row, from floor to towering ceiling, the room was filled with papers, books, chests and crates. An entire world of knowledge lying unguarded. A treasure beyond compare.

  Zara knew her mouth opened and closed, but no sound emerged. Athven had restored her library. For Rowan. The castle knew what he wanted to do with it and she had simply handed it to him.

  “This is…” She struggled for words. Fought for composure. “Amazing! I can’t believe you found it. The others are going to be so excited when we tell them.”

  Rowan turned, his head slightly tilted as he regarded her seriously. “I don’t think we should tell them just yet,” he said softly. “Not until things are settled between us.”

  Zara’s mouth went dry. “What do you mean, settled?”

  “Zara, you know what I mean.” He smiled coaxingly. “What have you decided? Surely another day can’t make that much difference. If we tell the others what Athven has revealed, they may feel that it can only belong to the Erathi themselves. They are not likely to have any wish to share. But if we are together, we can ensure that all this knowledge, all this wisdom—this incredible treasure—will never be locked away again.”

  His face grew more animated as he warmed to the idea. “It is our burden, our responsibility, to see that this”—he waved a hand to encompass the library—“will be available to anyone who wishes to study, anyone who wishes to know and to learn. We could even”—he darted forward and clasped her hand again—“establish a school, here, where anyone could come to learn magic. It would be a terrible crime if such a treasure as this was to be hidden away, unseen and unused forever, because a few frightened people could not bear to loosen their grasp on the past.”

  Treasure. There was that word again. This knowledge was treasure. And when she realized what Rowan meant, Zara began to lose her fear of the Andari prince, despite his height, his power, and his words. He was no longer strange and unknowable and terrifying. He was really not that much different than her father.

  Rowan Tremontaine was a treasure hunter. But his treasure was not the sort that could be touched or carried away. Oh, you could touch the books, but it wasn’t the books he cared about—it was the knowledge that was in them, and what that knowledge could give him. He hunted power. He hunted thrills. He hunted the feeling of exultation that came from exerting his will. From winning.

  And he hunted admiration.

  “But,” she faltered, “that sounds like an enormous task. I thought you said that when this was over, I could look for my father. I’m not an educated woman.” She dropped her eyes. “I couldn’t possibly run a school. All of this knowledge…” Zara let her shoulders curl in and her breath hitch. “This shouldn’t be entrusted to a person like me.”

  “But Zara!” Rowan shifted his grasp on her hand and moved closer. Moved in for the kill. “You have me. You will always have me, to guide and instruct as we find ways to use what we have found in the service of as many people as possible.”

  Zara heaved a sigh and let her head droop. “What if I wanted to leave?” she asked, voice quavering. “What if it was too much and I simply wanted to be with my family?”

  “Then of course you would be free to go,” Rowan said smoothly, reaching up to stroke her cheek with his hand. “Though I am selfish enough to tell you that I would keep you if I could.”

  Zara looked up, startled, into his shining blue eyes, now so close to her own.

  “Zara, you cannot have mistaken that I find you attractive,” he told her.

  “I’m not,” she insisted. “Not at all. And I’m a nobody. You’re a prince.”

  “A former prince,” he corrected. “I am now as much a nobody as you. And I find you a beautiful challenge I would spend every day of my life trying to win.”

  Her face went hot. He wasn’t using magic on her, was he? He was leaning closer and she still had no desire to kiss him, or to let him kiss her. But should she, if she wanted him to be convinced?

  “Wait!” She stepped backwards. Kissing was simply out of the question. “We haven’t decided anything yet.”

  Rowan did not step with her, but waited patiently, her hand still clasped in his. “I decided days ago what I wanted, Zara. It is only you who need still decide. Will you have me as a bonded partner? I realize it is Athven’s wish, but now it is my wish also that you come to this partnership willingly, because you know it is right, both for us and for Athven.”

  “I… yes.” She stumbled over the word. She had known she was going to say it, but it still tasted like wormwood in her mouth. “I will. Tomorrow morning, when the three days are up, we will bring everyone to the entry hall and announce it.”

  “Oh, but Zara,” Rowan coaxed, “why wait? Now that you have agreed, we need no audience to witness. All we need is Athven, and she is already here with us.”

  “She is?” Zara didn’t mean to sound quite so shocked.

  “Always.” Rowan smiled. “Does she not speak to you as she does to me?”

  “We can only speak in my dreams,” Zara admitted.

  “T
hen let me assure you that she is here and she is glad that you have chosen well. She is ready to perform the binding today, so that we can move forward as soon as possible.”

  “I…”

  “Come, Zara, why are you afraid? Athven tells me there is no pain, and it will only make us closer, both in mind and spirit once the binding is complete. We will be bound through her, so it will not be as close or as final as the marriage bond, of course, though that may yet be in our future.”

  Zara’s chest felt as though it were surrounded by metal bands. A huge hand squeezed her temples and her stomach knotted itself like rope. She had thought to have another day to prepare. Another day to convince herself that this was the right choice. It was the only choice, she knew, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t terrified of going through with it.

  But there really was no way out of it now. She had already said the words, already agreed, and no objection seemed to weigh with Rowan. If she were a willing participant, as she pretended, what further reason could she give to hesitate?

  Perhaps it was for the best. After all, should Alexei actually manage to restore the Rose, her plan required that she act before his task was finished. This was as good a time as any. She had chosen her own plank, and now she was going to have to walk it.

  “Yes,” she said, her voice firmer. “You are right, of course. This is no time to shrink back. I am only nervous, but that will pass. I am ready when you and Athven say it is time.”

  Zara staggered backwards as the floor suddenly moved underfoot. A rumbling, like boulders being poured onto the roof, filled the air and brought Zara to her knees with her hands clapped over her ears. Rowan did not move, only smiled as if he knew the sound was a signal of victory.

  “Athven believes it is time,” he said, as soon as the rumbling died down enough for Zara to hear him. “The only thing she requires is what I have promised her—the traitor’s life. She will bring him, and then we can begin.”

  “Wait.” Zara stared at him in horror. “She’s going to kill him? Now?”

  “I have not asked her plans for him,” Rowan said with a casual shrug. “He betrayed me, and Athven is welcome to her revenge.”

  “But… surely she won’t just kill him.”

  Rowan looked at her strangely. “Athven is a wise and ancient creature. She has seen and suffered much. I am convinced that whatever she decrees will be just.”

  “But does she have to dispense justice in the library?”

  The prince threw his head back and laughed. “Zara, I do love the things you say. Life with you is going to be a beautiful and surprising adventure.”

  The pang that shot through Zara’s heart at that was all too real, unlike the smile she wore. She would have liked to hear those words from someone who meant them. From someone she could say them back to.

  Alexei’s face flashed into her mind before she could stop it. Even in her imagination, he looked commanding and immovable, but also tired and serious and sad. Zara shoved the image away. She would not think of him now. He would never agree with her decision, neither with what she had chosen to do nor why. He most certainly would not forgive her. But she thought that a life with him in it might have been a beautiful adventure, even if they never left the castle.

  The door opened, startling her with its suddenness. She hadn’t heard footsteps. Porfiry’s head appeared in the doorway, swiveling uneasily until he spotted them.

  He sidled in, followed by Shadow, who stalked intently behind him as though she hunted something much closer to her size.

  Porfiry shot a sideways glance at Zara and licked his lips nervously. He should have looked a great deal more frightened than nervous.

  “It is time.” Rowan went down on one knee before Shadow. “Zara has agreed that I might join your bond, my lady. We are prepared.”

  Perhaps in response to her prompting, he stood and took Zara’s hand once more. Zara willed her hand not to shake. The peace of the library seemed anticlimactic as she waited for her unwanted destiny to overtake her.

  When it happened, there was not the overwhelming landslide of sensations Zara feared, nor did the new bond overwhelm her mind. Instead, the moment she had been dreading passed without pomp or fanfare or pain. The only difference she could sense was a new awareness, an awakening to the presence of a part of her she had never thought to look for—her magic. She knew it to be hers in part, even as it swelled and grew and changed, before settling back again, though it did not return to invisibility.

  Now she could not stop noticing the thing it had become. No longer merely hers, the strange coil wound its way through her consciousness, touching the various parts of her mind lightly yet inescapably.

  It itched, was her first thought, when all of the newness had settled into place at last. She looked at Rowan, and determined from his expression that his own experience had been rather different. It must have considerably more than itched. His eyes were huge, and his face was a hue rarely seen on anyone who wasn’t dead.

  “It…” He gasped for air. “That…” On a second gasp, he fell to his knees. “How do you even breathe?”

  And then Zara felt him. Athven was there too, both of them blended with Zara’s own magic, both a seemingly inextricable piece of the coil within her mind. It was all Zara could do not to throw up the moment she realized that a portion of that unfamiliar coil was Rowan. His part of the bond seemed less complete, more separate. He was clearly not as deeply intertwined with Zara’s magic as Athven was, but even though Zara could not read him, could not yet sense his thoughts or feelings, his signature was unmistakeable. The panic rose in her throat as she wondered what he could feel of her?

  “She’s in my mind.” Rowan clutched at his hair. “She’s so vast, so powerful, how do you bear it?”

  It must have something to do with the greater strength of his magic, Zara thought clinically, and the fact that he had chosen his fate. She was too relieved at his preoccupation with Athven to care much what it felt like. If Athven was so overwhelming, perhaps he would never even notice she was there.

  Her next thought hit her like a plunge into an ice-cold sea.

  It was done.

  They were bonded.

  There was no going back, and Zara had won. A hollow, painful victory, but a victory nonetheless. And the price paid for that victory was small indeed—her own future, sacrificed for Rowan’s defeat.

  The prince was trapped. Bound forever to an enchanted castle he could never leave. Power he would have, but he would never use that power to conquer and destroy. Athven’s own power would be greater still, and she was a possessive creature, who would ensure that his efforts never strayed beyond the boundaries of Erath.

  He was going to be decidedly annoyed when he learned the truth of what had been done to him—what Athven had convinced him to do to himself. Zara had nothing to look forward to now but a life spent trapped in a smugly superior castle with a bitter, angry prince. It would be anything but a fairy tale. But her friends would be safe. Now that Athven had what she wanted, she had promised to let them leave, just as soon as Zara could convince them that they should go. That leaving her behind was the best possible future for everyone.

  Zara turned towards the door, but a swift motion caught her eye, and she tried to turn back to see it. Something caught painfully at her throat. She reached up impatiently, and encountered a slender, unfamiliar chain that tightened as she grasped it.

  “Did you think I was fool enough to settle meekly for my own death?” Porfiry snarled in her ear. “Your precious Athven cannot save you now. I hope you drown in your own spittle and that the last thing you see as the darkness takes you is my face.” Crazed laughter escaped him as the chain tightened. “And after you’re gone, I hope it tears my perfect cousin in two when he finds your lifeless body and realizes how helpless he is to fix it.”

  Zara tried to breathe, and was startled to find that she still could. He was not actually trying to choke her. She ran her finger behind the chain. I
t was too strong to break, too small to remove.

  “What is this?” she gasped out. “What are you trying to do?”

  “I’m saving myself,” Porfiry snarled. “And gaining the final piece of my revenge! Haven’t you ever seen silver before?”

  Silver. Zara’s vision wavered. The coil resting within her felt strangely heavy. She saw Shadow turn to look at her, crouched low with flattened ears, saw Rowan’s face turn sideways, and then she hit the floor as everything within her seemed to unravel at once.

  “No, you fool!” she heard Rowan cry, but that was the last she heard before the world slipped away from her.

  When Alexei felt the floor shake beneath him, he knew his time was up. Whether his work was finished or not, he would have to chance his hand and pray that it was enough. He had no idea whether it was day or night, nor how many hours had passed since he first entered the workshop. Gathering up the pieces of the Rose, he did not pause to adjust his appearance, only moved hastily toward the door.

  On his first try, it slapped him in the face. He shook himself, blinked, and this time, managed to open it before he tried to walk through the doorway. Perhaps he had gone a few too many hours without sleep.

  By the time he staggered blearily into the kitchen, he had determined that it was day, perhaps early afternoon, though gray and rainy.

  “What day is it?” he asked, provoking a chorus of exclamations from his friends around the table.

  “Where in all the hells have you been?” Malichai demanded harshly, crossing the floor to take his arm and lead him to a seat. Ordinarily, Alexei would have scowled at being ordered about, but under the circumstances it was probably wise to permit it. The floor still seemed to be moving.

  “Good morning to you too,” Silvay said, serene as ever. “It is somewhere in the afternoon of the third day. But we are a bit worried about Zara. Rowan dragged her off somewhere around luncheon, all atwitter about something he’d found, and they’ve not been back. Also, Shadow took Porfiry.”