Shadow and Thorn

by Kenley Davidson

“The cat.” Alexei tried to work out how that might have happened. “The cat took my cousin?”

  “She came in here and hissed at us, and then stuck her claws in Porfiry’s leg.” Gulver shrugged, though his mustache twitched a little at the recollection. “She kept at it until he stopped swearing and started walking, and they went off. Wasn’t like we could have done anything.”

  Alexei collapsed onto the bench and accepted the bowl Silvay handed him. Whatever it was, it was cold, but it smelled like heaven. He took a bite. “So we should find Zara and figure out what has Tremontaine’s trousers in a twist.”

  Silvay eyed him curiously. “You’ve done it, haven’t you?”

  “I’ve done something,” he said carefully. “I haven’t made the Rose anew, if that’s what you’re hoping. It’s a strange story, and my efforts may all be for nothing, but I have hopes that whatever I’ve done will prove useful.”

  “Good enough for me,” Silvay said.

  Alexei had just lifted the second mouthful to his lips when the world moved. A clamor began inside his head, then the table in front of him simply disappeared. Everyone seated around it fell to the floor when the bench vanished, the bowl vanished—everything but the pieces of the Rose and the clothes they were wearing gone in an instant.

  The sound in Alexei’s head remained, still deafening, and yet not a sound at all. To his bleary-eyed gaze, the walls and the ceiling seemed to expand and contract, while the floor writhed beneath them. Then the fires went out and everything went still and silent.

  A faint glow came from the floor where Wilder had been sitting.

  “Lucky thing I kept this.” She held up a still-enchanted crystal, which gave just enough light to see that the kitchen was completely empty except for the five of them.

  Alexei staggered to his feet. Wilder shoved the crystal into his hand, and he needed neither thought nor effort to renew the enchantment that brought it blazing to life. “Zara,” he said. “We have to find her.”

  They went together, by Alexei’s insistence. He did not want to risk losing any of his companions to this strange new mood of Athven’s. The floor had stopped moving, but the walls still shifted occasionally, and the ceilings seemed lower than usual. Before he did anything else, he led them all down to the Rose Chamber, where he carefully placed the largest remaining piece of the Rose on the pedestal. He held his breath, but it fit beautifully, and the lines of power graven in the floor began to glow when he nudged the enchantment to life. They were not as bright as they had once been, and the enchantment was quite different, but it was exactly as Nar had intended. It would have to be enough.

  “What does it do?” Wilder breathed, eyes bright with curiosity and perhaps with awe. “It’s so pretty!”

  “It prevents anyone from entering Athven with intent to harm, steal, or destroy,” he answered. “I wish we’d had this only a few days sooner, but now at least we can be sure that no army will assault us within these walls.”

  “And the other pieces? Do they have their tasks as well?” Silvay asked, faint vertical lines creasing her forehead.

  “Yes, but don’t ask me exactly what they are. I only did as Nar commanded.”

  “Alexei,” she began, the lines growing deeper, “did you say Nar? As in, the Nar? He was speaking to you?”

  “It was a vision,” he clarified. “He left behind a piece of himself in the Rose for me to find.”

  “For you?” Gulver’s eyes were wide. “Alexei, how much did you sleep while you were away?”

  “I promise I’m not delirious,” Alexei insisted. “Or rather, that part wasn’t delirium. There was a seer. I swear I’ll explain it all after we find Zara.”

  “I’ll hold you to it,” Silvay warned, as they filed out of the room, only to stop dead before Wilder cleared the doorway.

  Shadow stood in the hall outside. She appeared to have lost half of her fur, but what she did have stood on end as she yowled, a sound of pain and anger that lifted the hair on Alexei’s neck.

  A word echoed in his mind. COME.

  “Show me,” he said grimly.

  Shadow led them up the narrow stair, onto the first level, then up another to the second. Her path ended at the wide doors to the library, now shut. She yowled again, mournfully, before the doors swung open on silent hinges.

  The library was dark and empty, except for the new shape that marred the emptiness of the room. A human shape, with long, pale hair that seemed to glow against the dark stone of the floor.

  “Zara,” Alexei whispered. Before he even registered the impulse, he had crossed the space between them and hit his knees by the side of her still form. She lay on her back, as though posed, her blue eyes closed, and her hands by her sides. Alexei felt frantically for her pulse, listened for her breath, and as his fingers brushed the side of her neck, he felt both the flutter that indicated her heart still beat, and the cold, hard links of a chain.

  He yanked his hand back with a curse as his friends reached him and gathered around with cries of dismay.

  Gulver dropped to the ground next to him and laid a hand on her shoulder, only to pull it back again with a pained yelp.

  “Malichai!” In his terror and anger, Alexei almost yelled the name.

  The warrior knelt next to him, tears streaking down his face. “I should never have let her go alone,” he wailed.

  “Just get this chain off of her,” Alexei demanded tersely. “Then we will see if there is any need for tears.”

  Malichai nodded, too deep in his shock and sorrow to ask why Alexei could not do so for himself. With one twist between his huge fingers, the narrow silver chain parted, and Malichai removed it from her neck. “Is that it?” he asked. “Was it enchanted?”

  “Worse,” Alexei said shortly. “It’s silver.”

  He had been so sure Rowan would do nothing to endanger her. So certain there was time to change whatever Zara had planned. But while Alexei had labored over the Rose, Rowan had made his move, and the result could be Zara’s death.

  But why had Rowan risked it? How could he have dared use silver while Zara’s life and Athven’s were so inextricably intertwined?

  Shadow appeared beside him, her ears flat as she watched him feel again for Zara’s pulse.

  “Are you happy now?” he demanded. “Are you going to tell me what happened? Or how you can still be here, with her neck wrapped in silver and her magic cut off?”

  The cat would not look at him.

  A faint, slow beat under his fingers told him that Zara had not yet left them entirely, but she showed no signs of improvement now that the silver was removed. There was no movement from her eyes or hands to indicate that she was even aware of their presence.

  Gulver laid his hand on her shoulder again and shut his eyes, only to open them again, wide and pained. “It is a survivor’s coma,” he said bleakly. “I have seen this before, or similar, in marriages, where one partner survives the other. They do not usually survive for long.”

  “How long do we have?” Alexei asked.

  “Hard to say,” Gulver told him, his mustache limp and lifeless, shoulders slumped. “But those I have seen do not usually regain consciousness. The severing of the bond is too sudden, too devastating. She may linger for some time, or slip away quickly. I’m sorry, Alexei.” He stood and wiped his eyes on his sleeve. “I wish there was something I could do.”

  Alexei remained on the floor, gazing at the woman who had so recently gained the trust he had once thought himself incapable of feeling. He could not even feel her loss yet, only perceive the beginnings of a yawning and terrible emptiness where his heart had been.

  Was this, then, what it felt like to love? Had he succumbed to an emotion he had once sworn did not truly exist? He did not know what else to call the feelings that he cursed himself for only acknowledging now, when there was no longer a chance of their return.

  He knew that he admired her. Respected her. Trusted her. Perhaps such feelings were the truest face of love. And if h
e did love her, it was not for any reason he would have once imagined. He loved her stubbornness, her independence, her defiance and her humor. She would never, ever have quit fighting. Whatever had befallen her, it must have taken her by surprise.

  Faster than the beat of a wyvern’s wings, he snatched up Shadow by the loose skin on the back of her neck and held her before him. “You,” he said, voice colder than winter, sharper than steel. “You swore she would be safe. You proudly proclaimed that you knew what was coming and that you had the Andari bastard right where you wanted him. Now see where your pride has led you!” He held her over Zara’s body and shook her. “Look!” he roared. “And unless you want me to toss your worthless carcass off the north tower, tell me how to fix this!”

  The cat wriggled in his grasp, but he was not letting go. Not until she looked at him. Not until she acknowledged her part in whatever terrible series of events had left Zara so near to death. But not dead. Not yet. There had to be a way to change it.

  His own words punched him in the chest and he turned the cat’s face to his. “Gulver has to be wrong,” he snarled. “You’re alive! You said she didn’t have enough power to sustain you, so if the bond had been fully severed, you wouldn’t be here. It must still be intact, so tell me what happened!”

  But the cat still wouldn’t look at him, and if ever a cat bore the look of guilt it was Shadow, hanging from his grip, squirming helplessly, her eyes fixed on the ceiling.

  And then he knew.

  “You bonded with him, didn’t you.” It wasn’t a question. It was the only way Athven could have maintained any avatar at all, even a half-hairless one. “You let Rowan bond with you and then he killed her, so he could have you all to himself!”

  With a frantic twist and a yowl, the cat wrenched out of his grip. The floor lurched under them again as Shadow fell, got to her feet, and disappeared through the open door.

  Alexei did not bother to chase her, or even watch her go. Her refusal to speak to him only confirmed her guilt. His eyes returned to Zara’s face, and the ever-so-slight movement of her chest that indicated she still lived. For now.

  Gulver had not been wrong after all, and Alexei knew what was coming. Bonds such as the one between Zara and Athven were a deep and permanent commitment, an intertwining of souls as miraculous as it could be tragic. Although it was rare amongst a people who could be healed of almost any ailment or injury, early death occasionally struck one half of a bonded pair. When it did, that death inevitably claimed two lives instead of one.

  The dissolution of the bond between Zara and Athven had left a gaping hole where their lives had become inextricably entwined. Zara’s magic was bleeding out of her now, drop by precious drop, and when it was gone, her heart would inevitably stop.

  Deep in his pocket, Alexei felt the shape of the smallest piece of the Rose pressing into his skin, and realized to his sorrow what it was for. He had never dreamed, as he labored over its completion, the pain that would accompany its use. Picking up Zara’s hand, he wrapped her limp fingers around the crystal’s rough-edged form.

  “Is that a talisman?” Gulver asked, through his tears.

  “Of sorts,” Alexei replied, his voice flat, his emotions buried far off where they could not keep him from acting decisively. “It is a stasis stone. Used to prevent decay. Much like Athven has preserved her contents over time, this should keep Zara alive until we have dealt with the traitor and can say our goodbyes.”

  “You don’t need to worry,” Wilder said, as calm and serious as Alexei had ever seen her. “The Rose will protect her.”

  He looked up. The girl appeared on the surface to be the same, but this time Alexei let himself see the peaceful certainty that lent maturity to her thin face. Even her few short years of surrendering to the strange whims of prescience had given her a resilience few adults could match. She was sure, and her faith gave him hope.

  “I believe you,” he said. “And yet I would not leave her alone.”

  “I will bring her,” Malichai said, and the jut of his chin dared Alexei to attempt dissuading him from his course. “There’s no point in weapons, not the way these bastards fight, so I will protect her instead. No one will harm her while I live.”

  “Thank you.” Alexei nodded. “Now, before we go, you should know—Athven is now bonded to Rowan. This must have been his doing, though I cannot imagine why he would have risked such a thing, not when it could have killed them all. It proves we should not make the mistake of assuming we know the traitor prince’s mind.”

  “You are certain?” Silvay asked bluntly.

  “Yes,” Alexei confirmed with a short nod. “I am as certain as I can be. Athven is alive and still able to maintain her avatar, which takes a great deal of her power and focus. She must have a new source, and Rowan would never have risked Zara’s death until Athven was his. He and Athven either convinced Zara to allow him to join their bond, or forced it on her before he attempted to cut her out. He did not know…”

  Alexei stopped. His eyes shot to the woman on the floor, the beautiful, brave, reckless, impossible woman who had…

  “She did it on purpose,” he whispered.

  “What?” A chorus of denial arose from all sides, but Alexei had never been more certain.

  “The last time we spoke, she made me promise not to give the Rose to Rowan. She wanted to be certain he would have no reason to leave. She planned this.”

  “But why?” Gulver wailed. “I thought she was faking when she pretended to be on his side.”

  “She was,” Silvay interjected, nodding slowly. “She wanted him to believe she would accept him eventually, but she needed to hold his interest by making him work for what he wanted. She drew him in, then pushed him back, and then gave in at the last.” She looked up at Alexei. “But why?”

  “To save us. To save Erath. To keep Rowan from winning.”

  “She gave him more power in order to save us?” Malichai snorted. “Now I know you’re delirious.”

  “Athven never told Rowan the whole truth,” Alexei reminded them. “Rowan still believes he can leave whenever he wants. Only Zara knew that if she left, the bond would break, and both she and Athven would die. Now that Rowan has usurped the bond, that limitation applies to him.”

  “She’s tied him here forever,” Silvay breathed. “He’s trapped, along with his diabolical dreams for the future.”

  “Yes,” Alexei agreed, stunned anew by Zara’s sacrifice. She had clearly made her decision days ago, and carried the weight of it alone. “And she knew she would have to share his exile as long as she lived.”

  Gulver’s mustache bristled like Shadow’s back when she was angry, and his cheeks grew red. “I am no warrior,” he said. “And I am forbidden to use my gift to harm. But I would. For Zara I would. Even if it meant losing my magic forever, I would find him and I would make his heart explode and his brain bleed out his ears and…”

  Alexei felt the need to say something, do something, laugh, cry or rage to somehow acknowledge the depth of courage and loyalty that Zara had both shown and inspired. Even placid, timid Gulver was moved to violence.

  Silvay rubbed her face briskly with her hands, then scrubbed them on her cloak. “But we need you, Gulver, so as moving as I find that description of Rowan’s demise, I beg you not to put it into practice,” she said tartly. “There are other ways. And I’m guessing the third piece of the Rose has its own task to fulfill.”

  “We need to follow Shadow,” Alexei told them. “She and Rowan will have a lot to talk about, and they will both be angry. I don’t believe Athven meant for Zara to be harmed, or she would never have sought us out, or led us here. She is suffering from guilt, perhaps for the first time in her existence. We may still have an opportunity to learn what she, or he, plans to do, or even find a way to escape.”

  “Escape?” Malichai exclaimed fiercely.

  “Yes. Now that Zara…” Alexei stumbled over her name. “None of us is tied here any longer.” He refused to ack
nowledge what that meant for the future. For him or for Erath. “I would not choose to leave Tremontaine as master of this place, now or ever, but I do not see what choice we have. And yet, I would know Athven’s mind before we leave, to know whether he has turned her against him. If not, he is a great danger even trapped here with no escape. He may find a way to persuade Athven to act against her nature. But,” he added, “if she has turned against him, perhaps we can risk leaving her to deal with him as she wills. We cannot kill him without harming her, so I can only hope to find a way to contain him, and then get as far away as we can.”

  “Wisely spoken,” Silvay said briskly. “We should move quickly, and be ready to abandon our possessions if needed. Wilder, I would tell you to stay in the rear with Malichai and Zara, but I suspect you wouldn’t listen.”

  “No, probably not,” the girl acknowledged. “I’m needed elsewhere.”

  “And I should just stop trying to protect you, whether you look like you need it or not,” Silvay admitted wryly. “I know very well you can take care of yourself, it’s just…”

  “I know,” Wilder said, with a smile that added years to her face. “And I don’t mind.”

  Gulver sobbed quietly as he moved towards the door, followed by Silvay, her arm around Wilder’s thin shoulders. Malichai prepared to lift Zara, his own face still wet, but set in a fierce expression that would have sent anyone who didn’t know him scrambling for cover.

  Alexei stopped him for a moment, and bent one last time over the still body of the woman he loved. He doubted she could ever have loved him back. Not after he’d been such a beast to her when they met. And when she proposed. Both times. It was a miracle she had ever forgiven him enough to speak to him.

  “We won’t leave you,” he told her. “You won’t die alone. And I won’t let you die here. I’ll try to get you home, no matter what it takes. And I’ll make sure your family knows what happened.” He knelt and grasped her hand in his. “I know what you did, and I know why. If you were here for me to yell at I would be…” He swallowed a rising surge of pain. “Angry, probably. I would have yelled at you for days, for doing this to yourself, and for feeling like you had to bear the weight of this choice alone. Or maybe I would have told you that I loved you and begged you to love me back. Now, all I can do is promise that we will honor your sacrifice, and make sure that the task you began is finished. Rowan Tremontaine will not leave this place alive, I swear it.”