Counting Shadows (Duplicity)

by Olivia Rivers

  Lor chuckles and shakes his head. In a low voice I can barely hear, he says, “Then I guess I won’t be the only one to die.”

  FIVE

  I walk down the staircase to the second floor of the prison, trying not to bound down the steps three at a time. I need to escape this hell-hole. I need to get away from here, away from Lor.

  I absently register Hirard at my side. He asks what the other ten questions on the test are.

  I ignore him.

  All I can hear in my head is Lor’s words shattering my familiar picture of Ashe. He wasn’t my flawless Angel; he wasn’t an Angel at all. Just some type of demon.

  Did he have family out there somewhere? I’d always assumed that it would be impossible to find his family. They’d be on the far-away continent the Angels were banished to.

  But what if his family had been on this continent? What if I could have found them, and what if they could have saved Ashe?

  My stomach churns, and I walk faster.

  SIX

  Daylight comes with the most mundane sunrise in history. It doesn’t feel right. My understanding of Ashe has changed, but the world stays exactly the same.

  I watch the courtyard, sitting on the railing of the balcony connected to my chambers. Ashe always liked to people-watch up here, and said sunrise was the best time for it. According to him, it’s the time when people are the most tired and raw, and willing to show their true natures.

  I’m not sure if that’s true; hardly anyone here ever shows their real self. The courtyard below is off-limits to peasants, and is instead filled with royalty and egos and lies. But I still come out to this balcony every morning and look down, just like my Ashe used to.

  Soldiers patrol the cobbled grounds, messengers scurry about, and lesser royalty hold their heads way too high as they go about their business. But from up here, everything looks… different. Almost peaceful.

  Footsteps echo behind me. One, two, three. But I don’t turn. I received the message earlier: Farren is coming to visit me this morning. I don’t know why, but I do know that I’m not going to bother with a greeting. My head is still whirling from my visit with Lor, my stomach feels like it’s full of bubbling lead, and I’m not in the mood for visitors.

  “What the hell did I tell you about sitting up there? You’re a human, not a bloody Dragon. You won’t survive falling.”

  I yelp and grip the banister more tightly. The voice is harsh and rasping, toneless except for an edge of anger.

  As I regain my balance, I let out a long breath, unsure if its relieved or exasperated. “Jackal.” It’s impossible to mistake that voice. Jackal once had his throat slit by an assassin, and it ruined his vocal chords. Now his voice is high and gravelly, and it cuts through the morning air like a serrated knife.

  “How did you get in—”

  He quickly cuts me off. “No questions. How many times do I have to tell you? If you haven’t already figured out the answer, you don’t deserve to hear it.”

  I look up to the clouded sky and let out a long breath. “Yes, Jackal.”

  He grunts. “Well, what do you know, you do remember my name, eh?” A moment of silence passes, and then he hops on the railing, swinging his legs off the side and sitting next to me. He turns and glares, his red eyes boring into me. “Funny, because you don’t seem to remember a single thing I taught you.”

  I think of smiling and trying to pass his words off as a joke. But Jackal sees through my smiles every time, so I just bite at my lip and stare out into the ocean, glowering at the churning waves.

  “You’ve been leaving a trail, Faye,” Jackal says, his voice low. “Sketchy informants, too much money, and badly-concealed trips away from the castle. It’s a bad mix, and you know it.”

  I roll my eyes, turning my head so he doesn’t see. It’s useless. I feel a sharp slap strike the back of my head, and I hold back another yelp.

  I reach up and rub the back of my head ruefully. “That ‘bad mix’ is necessary.”

  “No, it’s not.”

  “Says you.”

  “Yes, says me. The commander of the Iris guard, your mentor, and a Council member.”

  “Former commander, former mentor, former Council member.”

  Another slap hits my head. I glare at him, looking straight at him for the first time in months.

  Jackal is one of the few Vampire-human hybrids in the world, and an unusual mix of lithe muscle and broad shoulders. His face is perpetually turned down into a bored expression, but his eyes tell the real story: They constantly flit around, assessing his surroundings, searching for danger.

  Years ago, Jackal was the royal bodyguard—or Guardian—for one of my aunts. Like most Guardians, he fell in love with his charge, only to have her ripped away when she was assassinated. Since then, Jackal has devoted his life to the Iris Guard, where he eventually became the commander of the mercenary Vampires.

  It’s not good news for most people. Everyone and everything is a threat, in Jackal’s mind. Most demon hybrids go crazy sometime in their life, and Jackal is no exception. After he publicly threatened to gut Jolik a few months ago, Father decided that his craziness had gone too far, and banned him from the castle and his duties as the Iris Guard commander.

  “That hurt,” I complain, going back to rubbing my head.

  “That was the point.”

  I sigh. “What are you doing here, Jackal?”

  His gaze flicks around, searching the balcony for other ears. When he finds no one, he looks me straight in the eye. “You’re in danger, Faye. Someone has noticed you. They’ll be coming for you soon.”

  I bite my lip and take a deep breath, quelling the anxiety rising in my chest. This sounds like one of Jackal’s usual delusions: Mysterious, dangerous people coming after someone. Frightening, but not actually harmful to anyone.

  “Okay,” I say, keeping my voice serious. “I’ll be careful.”

  He reaches out and grabs my arm in a vice-like grip. “Don’t brush me off like that, Faye. Listen to me.” He shakes me a little to hammer the words home, and I grip the railing tighter. “Someone is after you. You need to be on alert.”

  I grit my teeth. “Who is this someone, Jackal?”

  “I don’t know his name.”

  “Then what does he look like?”

  “I don’t know that, either.”

  I rip my arm out of his grasp. “Look, Jackal, I appreciate the warning. But I don’t think I have much to worry about.”

  His hand whips out and grabs my throat. He doesn’t squeeze, but just keeps his fingers clenched around my delicate skin. “You’re not listening.”

  “Let go of me, Jackal.”

  He grips a little tighter. “Faye, you—”

  “Jackal!”

  Farren’s voice cuts into our conversation. Jackal curses and whirls around. Farren stands at the entrance of the balcony, his mouth set in a tight line, his fists balled at his side. “Let her go.”

  Jackal smiles, the expression predatory, and releases me. He swings around and jumps down from the railing, landing on the balcony, and strides purposely toward Farren. My twin takes a hesitant step back, his fists clenching tighter.

  Jackal stops just a foot in front of Farren and leans toward him. Farren swallows hard, but doesn’t budge. After a moment of tense silence, Farren growls, “You shouldn’t be here. You’re banned from the castle grounds.”

  Jackal scoffs. “You think I don’t know that?”

  “I think you’re unaware of the consequences.”

  “Farren,” I groan, shooting him a warning look. Neither of them acknowledge me.

  Jackal tenses, one hand rapidly clenching and unclenching, the other straying toward his side, where he keeps his dagger. He takes a single step toward Farren, closing the distance between them. Jackal towers over my brother, and his shoulders roll forward with aggression.

  “You don’t intimidate me, Jackal,” Farren says.

  Jackal spits at Farren’s feet. “
Of course I don’t. You’ve always been too stupid to recognize danger, even when it stares you in the face.”

  “Get out,” Farren snarls, pointing to the doorway behind him.

  “Oh, what’s this?” He paces in front of Farren in a half-circle, his boots striking the stone in a menacing rhythm. “Did I upset the little princeling?”

  Farren’s hand wanders toward his waist, where he keeps his dagger. I curse and snap, “Jackal, leave. Come back later, okay? Sometime when Farren isn’t here to interfere.”

  Jackal whips his gaze toward me. “So now you’re giving me orders, huh?”

  “She’s Irrador’s princess,” Farren says, his voice disturbingly steady. “She’ll tell you to do whatever she wants.”

  Jackal rolls his eyes. “She’s powerless.”

  Farren smiles thinly. It’s not nearly as vicious as Jackal’s expression, but it still takes me aback. Since when did Farren learn to look scary?

  “She might be powerless,” Farren says. “But I’m not. I could have you killed for trespassing in her chambers.”

  “You wouldn’t,” Jackal says. “You’re too weak.”

  “Try me.”

  Farren’s voice is starting to grow louder, and he’ll attract the attention of the guards soon. Jackal looks cautiously behind Farren, into my chambers. He curses.

  “You,” he says, pointing to me. “Be careful. You’re too valuable to die.”

  I nearly fall off the railing. Valuable? Had Jackal actually acknowledged that I have some kind of worth? This is definitely a first…

  I don’t get a chance to reply. Jackal storms back into my chambers, turning toward the library. He’ll use that hidden passage to get out of the castle, like he often does.

  Farren stares after him, his fists slowly unclenching. Then he shakes his head and walks over to me.

  “You’re going to kill yourself up there.” His voice is softer than usual, like he’s trying not to upset me anymore than I already am. Leave it to Farren to see through my stony expression and straight to my anxiety.

  I stare down at my feet dangling off the edge of the balcony. The first time I sat up here, I was terrified. But Ashe had just laughed at my expression and wrapped his arms around my waist, promising to never let go.

  I shake away the memory and stare out at the horizon. Beyond the edge of the castle grounds, I can see the sheer cliff the castle overlooks, and the pounding waves of the ocean far below. Nothing impedes the view, except for the very tip of a guard tower in the eastern corner of the castle.

  Behind me, Farren sighs. “Faye. Come down from there.”

  “I have a greater chance of falling if I move.”

  Farren scoffs. “So you’re just going to stay up there forever?”

  I stare down at ocean, where it pummels boulders close to the shore. One of my first visions was of those boulders towering into the sky. But, like all my visions, it was just the past. Now waves easily wash over the rocks. “Not forever,” I say. “But maybe awhile.”

  “You don’t have awhile. Father is expecting us in the courtyard in an hour.”

  My stomach does a flip, and it’s only because of years of practice that I don’t fall. I finally swing my legs back over the railing, and let myself drop onto the stone balcony. I place a hand on my hip and face Farren.

  He looks princely and perfect, in freshly-pressed clothing and a slim crown in his hair. Which really isn’t fair, since I just woke up half an hour ago and barely had time to pull on a casual dress.

  “He wants to see me?” I repeat. “Father?”

  “Yes, Father. You know, the king? The man who raised us?”

  I ignore his sarcasm, as always. “Why does he want to see me? He hasn’t in months.” Ten months, to be exact. I haven’t seen him since the day he ordered Ashe’s arrest.

  Farren sighs and shakes his head. I don’t know how he manages to keep his crown in place, but his dark hair hardly moves, and the crown stays put. “If you paid more attention to castle-life, and stopped spending your time listening to him—” He points after Jackal. “—then maybe you’d already know.”

  “Jackal has taught me more than castle-life ever could,” I growl.

  “And now he’s gone insane,” Farren says. “There’s a reason Father banned him from these grounds. He’s a hybrid, he’s dangerous, and you should be nowhere near him.”

  “I’ll be the judge of that.”

  Farren scoffs. “And what makes you think you can trust your judgment?”

  “What makes you think I can’t?”

  “Well, for one, you’re putting yourself in danger by chasing after Ashe’s killer. And for two, you’ve become completely and utterly oblivious.”

  I know his words are bait, but I can’t help but to take it. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “It means you’re Choosing your new Guardian today. And, if you weren’t so busy chasing after this nameless killer and socializing with an insane man, you’d be prepared.”

  My body dissolves into shivers, and it’s not from the tidal breeze washing over the balcony. “I have one Guardian,” I somehow manage to growl. “And now he’s dead. I won’t take another.”

  “You have to. Father demands it.”

  I swallow hard, and it takes me a moment to realize I’m holding back tears. Part of me wonders if this is some kind of cruel joke. In Irrador, Guardians are the bodyguards of royal women. Only they’re more than that. They’re friends, confiders, and protectors for all eternity. Most women take their Guardians as husbands, and I would have done the same with Ashe.

  Except now he’s dead.

  Farren clears his throat, breaking into my panicked thoughts. “You have less than an hour to get ready for the ceremony.”

  “I’m not going.”

  “Yes, you are. I promised Father you would.”

  I tear my gaze from the ground. “You… Why? Why would you promise that?”

  Farren begins pacing the balcony. “You’re caught up in the past, Faye. I understand mourning, but this is… obsession. You have to move on. A new Guardian will be good for you.”

  “I won’t do it,” I whisper. “I won’t replace him.”

  “You’re not replacing Ashe. You’re moving on without him. He’s no longer a part of your life, Faye. Start getting used to it.”

  “If my Guardian isn’t a part of my life, then I don’t have a life.”

  Farren shrugs. “Very well. Then welcome to death. You’re expected at the amphitheater by noon, and your Choosing begins soon after.”

  “Who are my Choices?”

  I can’t really be considering going along with this, can I? I shake my head, trying to clear my thoughts.

  “Father picked good Choices for you,” Farren says, his tone lightening a little. “The sons of Duke Glandor, and the son of a powerful marquis.”

  I don’t bother asking who this marquis is. It doesn’t matter. None of this matters.

  I nod slowly to Farren. “Tell Father I’ll be in the courtyard at the time he requested.”

  Farren’s eyebrows shoot up, like he hadn’t expected this to be so easy. “You’ll make a Choice?”

  “I’ll do as Father wishes,” I lie.

  He smiles at me a little, but the expression quickly darkens with worry. “Father wants you to Choose the eldest son of the duke. You’ll pick him, won’t you? You’ll please Father?”

  I force myself to smile back. It’s harder than usual to form the fake expression. “Of course.”

  Farren lets out a long, relieved breath. “Wonderful.” His smile falters again. “Just… Faye?”

  “What?”

  “Don’t Choose someone unexpected again, alright?”

  I smile back at him. “I promise,” I say, slightly relieved that I can say at least something true. I won’t Choose anyone unexpected, because I won’t Choose anyone at all. Ashe was my Guardian.

  And he’ll never be replaced. Never.

  SEVEN

&n
bsp; The aroma of freshly-baked bread strikes me as I step into my room. I breathe deeply, and the moment I let out the breath, the scent is gone.

  My chambers used to contain the castle’s bakery, and while I’m able to push away most of the visions, I still smell bread every time I walk in my room. It’s comforting, in a familiar sort of way.

  I walk over to where the ovens used to be, the spot where my wardrobe now stands. Running my hand over the wood, I close my eyes.

  I hardly remember my mom, but one clear memory remains of when she was alive. She’d stood with me in front of this wardrobe, lacing the back of a formal dress. I kept peeking glances at myself in the mirror next to the wardrobe, and she kept telling me to look straight ahead and hold still.

  Sometimes I replay that memory over and over again, straining to make out the exact words she said. But I can never hear them. There’s only her gentle tone and a certain softness that coats her sentences. Was it love that made her words so soft? Ashe used to tell me it must have been, that she was my mother and she must have loved me because of that.

  But why would she have taken her own life, if she loved me so much?

  I open the wardrobe, struggling to focus on the dresses inside. As I retreated down the hall and away from the balcony, Farren suggested I wear something red. It’s Father’s favorite color, he called after me.

  I settle on a black dress and pull it from the wardrobe.

  “An interesting choice.”

  I whirl toward the door, looking for the source of the voice. It’s definitely masculine, and definitely doesn’t belong in my room. I don’t even let Farren in here.

  I peer at the door; the lock is still in place. I force in a deep breath and reach toward my hip, only to remember that my knife is safely hidden in my nightstand.

  Or maybe not so safely.

  The man chuckles. “Over here, princess.” There’s something off about his voice; it’s distorted, almost like he’s underwater. And it echoes everywhere, making me turn in circles to find him.

  My mirror. I yelp and stumble back, faced with the mirror only feet from my wardrobe. The glass surface shudders, colors playing across its surface. Greens and reds and blues ripple out from the center of the mirror.