Counting Shadows (Duplicity)

by Olivia Rivers

  I smirk. “You honestly haven’t figured that out by now? Hardly anyone ever comes into my chambers. And if they do, it’s either Jackal or Farren, or sometimes the maids. And none of them would dare tell Father I’m disobeying him and reading books.”

  Lor sits next to me. He has a bad habit of not understanding the concept of personal space, and he sits barely two feet from me. Ashe had the same habit, but I didn’t mind it when he sat close. Ashe’s presence was warm and comfortable. But Lor’s presence is… scorching.

  “Who’s this Jackal?” Lor asks.

  “He’s the Vampire we saw in the gardens.”

  “No, I mean who is he to you?”

  “He’s…” I trail off. How should I explain Jackal? I can’t call him my tutor; he’d been fired from that position, as his paranoia grew and his teaching skills waned. I can’t exactly call him a friend, either; he’s always been too hard on me for a true friendship to form. And a mentor… he’s too broken to be a person to truly look up to.

  Maybe that’s what he really is to me: Someone broken. Someone I can understand. Someone who understands me.

  “He’s an acquaintance,” I say slowly. Then I give Lor an accusing look. “You’re the one who’s supposed to be answering the questions.”

  He grins. “But you’re not asking any.”

  I give him a small glare, but don’t retort. This is all so odd to me. I ask questions when I want something or when I need information. Not when I casually want to get to know someone better.

  But that’s what I want from Lor. I want to know him better, to hear about his people, his country, his life with Ashe.

  I think for a long moment, considering the best way to approach the conversation. Waves crash against the sand. Seagulls cry. And I have my first question.

  “How old are you?” I ask. I’ve always wanted to know this; Ashe’s age was a mystery. We guessed that he was a year older than me, and celebrated his birthday the same day as mine. But it was never a very happy celebration, not when we both knew it was a lie.

  “Nineteen years,” Lor replies, confirming my suspicions. Then he quietly adds, “Jay was an hour younger than me.”

  I nod slowly, and my stomach twists a little. Somehow, it stings to hear Lor state Ashe’s age so easily. What was a frustrating mystery to me is nothing but an everyday fact to him. It’s just another reminder of what Lor is to Ashe: His brother. And what I am:

  Nothing. At least not anymore.

  Lor continues tapping his foot, which leads me to my next question.

  “Is everyone in your family as anxious as you are?”

  Lor’s eyes widen. He clenches his fist and unclenches it. Then clenches it again. It’s another nervous tic, one of his more unconscious ones, and he doesn’t realize he’s doing it as he replies, “I’m not anxious.”

  I scoff. “Lor, you never stop moving. You’re constantly looking around like you expect to be stabbed from behind. You stare at strangers like they’ll all plotting your murder…”

  Lor cringes at my words, and I trail off. Silence settles over us for a moment, and it’s not the comfortable type from just moments before. I decide to break it before it gets any more tense.

  “Someone plotted your murder?” I don’t bother speaking quietly; there’s no way to soften a question like that.

  Lor nods stiffly. I barely catch the movement, it’s so small. “Yeah. Asair did. He set me up to look like I’d killed my sister.” Lor lets out a long breath and rubs his face. “Emryll was the oldest of my siblings. I got really close to her after Jay was taken away. But she was also the commander of our navy, and had control over most foreign invasions.”

  A woman controlling an entire navy? My head spins a little at the thought. I’ve heard the stories of how women are treated differently in other lands, but I never imagined the differences could be that drastic.

  If I show any surprise, Lor doesn’t notice. He just continues with his story. “At the time, Emryll and I were in a fight. It got… heated. I knew Jay had been taken to Irrador, and I thought Emryll should send a fleet to retrieve him.

  “But Emryll didn’t like the idea. It’d already been years since Jay had disappeared, and she thought I was chasing after a ghost. She was afraid it was going to spark a conflict if any of our ships landed in Irrador uninvited.”

  Lor sighs and doesn’t say anything more for a long moment. He just grinds his teeth, his jaw working back and forth determinedly. I don’t say anything, either. The wind picks up, and the sound of sand skittering across the beach overtakes all traces of our conversation.

  “Asair murdered my sister in her sleep,” Lor murmurs. He states it so quietly that I barely hear him. But I can still hear the anger in his words, penetrating every syllable.

  “I’m sorry,” I say in a tone that sounds odd even to me. It’s not quite a whisper, but it’s… hushed. Almost sympathetic.

  Lor begins clenching and unclenching his fist again. “Asair made it look like I’d killed her. And my father bought the story. After all, I was fighting with Emryll, so it’d make sense for me to kill her. But…” Lor shakes his head. “I would never have hurt her. Never.”

  “Is that why you’re no longer in line for the throne?”

  He nods. “Asair’s plan was for me to be put to death for the crime, but it didn’t work. My dad always had a soft spot for me, even after he thought I killed my sister. So I was spared death. Instead I had my wings ripped off, my ability to feel pain taken away, and I was banished from my country.” He gives a wry smile. “It didn’t work the way my Dad hoped, though. He thought my tattoo would disappear as soon as I was banished. But I still have it.”

  I mull over his words for a moment. “So then you’re still the figure from the prophecy?”

  He shrugs. “Who knows? To be honest, I’m not even convinced the prophecy is real. The tattoos are strange, I’ll admit that, but… The whole thing just seems far-fetched.”

  I nod and stare past Lor, out toward the ocean. I try to see a faraway continent, only reachable by grand ships and weeks of travel. But all I see are churning waves and a pelican swooping down to nab a fish.

  “So how did you end up over here?” I ask. “Did your father banish you to Irrador?”

  Lor shakes his head. “No. I went looking for Asair. For revenge, I guess. He disappeared after he got me banished, and rumors said he came here. Also, there were rumors that whoever kidnapped Ashe took him to your country. My father would never let me go after him before, but when I was banished…” He sighs. “In some ways, I had a little more freedom, I guess. I snuck onto a ship headed for Irrador, and landed here a couple months ago.”

  Something he says prickles me in an uncomfortable way. But I can’t pinpoint what it is, and I decide now isn’t the time to focus on it.

  “How did you end up in the dungeon?” I ask. I’ve been dying to ask this question ever since I met him, and now seems like as good of time as any.

  Lor glances over to me and gives a sheepish grin. “I shoplifted from a bakery.”

  I raise my eyebrows and stare at him, waiting for him to take back the words. He’s joking. He has to be. But Lor doesn’t say anything more, and his grin grows a little at my incredulous reaction.

  “Shoplifting?” I repeat. “You made it all the way across the ocean, and you end up trapped in a dungeon for shoplifting?”

  He shrugs. “I was hungry. And they had good bread.”

  “You say that like you were already familiar with their product.”

  He grins wolfishly. “Hungry princes have to eat. Even the broke ones.”

  “Even the banished broke ones?”

  His grin rapidly disintegrates into a tight frown. He lets out one of his hum-growls and crosses his arms over his chest. It looks like he’s pouting, and it’s almost cute.

  “You should apologize for that,” he grumbles.

  “I probably should,” I say. “But I won’t.”

  He grunts and then look
s toward the ocean. His eyes look strange out here on the beach; they’re such a vibrant shade of red, and don’t match the dull, clouded-over surroundings.

  “Well,” Lor says slowly, “I’ve answered all your questions.”

  “Who says I’m done asking them?”

  “Let me try that again.” He turns to me, his jaw gritted and his eyebrows narrowed. “I’m done answering your questions. Got it?”

  I nod. Something tells me that Lor never anticipated our conversation going so far. So… deep. He expected me to ask his favorite color and what his family’s castle looked like. He hadn’t expected to mentally relive his banishment and imprisonment.

  I hadn’t anticipated for the conversation to turn out this way, either. But I’m still not satisfied. I still want more.

  “We’ve been out for too long,” I say. “Someone is going to notice. We need to go back.”

  “To the castle?”

  I raise an eyebrow at him. “Where else?”

  He shrugs and turns his attention back the ocean. Waves roll in, the swells carrying the scent of salt and rotting seaweed.

  “I have one more question,” I say. He doesn’t respond, and I take it as permission to proceed. “Do you miss your country?”

  He bites his lip and just stares off into the ocean. I wonder what he sees out there. Can he see more than I can?

  “I miss my home,” he finally murmurs.

  TWENTY-SEVEN

  We ride through the surf on our way back to the castle. Our horses kick up water and sand, and my dress is ruined. And I don’t care.

  Lor grins as we race across the beach. He seems to have forgotten that he’s afraid of horses, and he stands in his stirrups and urges his stallion on faster. I trail behind him just slightly, even though I have to hold Tamal back. I want Lor to think he’s winning this race. I want to see him grinning.

  It’s amazing how he can do that. Just grin like there’s nothing wrong in the world. Like he hasn’t been banished, like his brother didn’t plot his murder.

  Like Ashe isn’t dead.

  I remember what Ashe told me once, when I’d asked how he could be so stoic when he lived in a country that hated him. “Everyone hurts, my little sparrowhawk,” he’d said to me, his voice so quiet I could barely hear it. “Some just hurt differently than others.”

  Maybe Ashe was wrong, and not everyone hurts. Maybe Lor is the crazy one, and not me. Because people shouldn’t be able to smile, not when they’re in pain. Right? That has to be right.

  Lor throws up a fist and lets out a whoop as we reach the end of the beach. He turns to me, probably to share some snide remark about his victory. Then he sees my expression.

  And his grin fades.

  TWENTY-EIGHT

  Lor’s stallion grows nervous as we reach the end of the beach. I’ve let Lor take the lead, and he tries to guide his horse along the path heading up the cliff and away from the beach. But his horse tosses his head and snorts, refusing to move. Lor jerks at the reins and kicks him, urging him forward.

  “Give him some head,” I say. “It might calm him down.”

  Lor turns and gives me a perplexed look. “He already has a head.”

  I roll my eyes and Lor glares at me. But it’s not as severe as earlier, and I swear there’s amusement in his eyes. The look only lasts a moment, before his stallion skitters to the right, nearly tossing him off.

  I sigh. “Lor, it’s really not that hard. Just get him under con—”

  Tamal rears, cutting off my words. I yelp and grip at the saddle horn. My horse lands, his front hooves spraying up sand, and lets out a piercing whinny. He tries to turn around, but I yank at the reins and don’t let him.

  “What is your problem?” I demand the horse through gritted teeth.

  He replies with another shrieking whinny, and tries again to turn around. As I struggle with him, I catch a glimpse of his eyes. They’re wide and terrified, the whites showing all around his iris.

  “We need to get back to the stables,” I say, risking a glance up to look at Lor. “Something is spooking them.”

  Lor nods, but just then his stallion bucks. He flies out of the saddle, landing in the sand next to the stallion. Lor cries out and jerks away, but his foot is caught in the stirrup. The stallion’s eyes roll wildly with fear, and it rears, yanking Lor off the ground by his foot. The horse lands a moment later, slamming Lor back down into the sand.

  He turns to me, his eyes as wide as his horse’s. “Faye!”

  I jump off Tamal, stumbling as I land. I try to grab Tamal’s reins, but he jerks away from me and gallops back the way we came. Cursing, I run toward Lor.

  The stallion starts spinning in circles, trying to dislodge Lor. Lor screams at it and reaches for his foot. But he’s thrown away as the stallion frantically whirls around.

  I leap forward and grab the stallions reins. He rears again, nearly tearing away from my grasp. But I manage to hang on and jerk the reins as he lands. “Easy,” I say in the calmest tone I can manage. “Easy, boy. That’s it. Just hold still.”

  The stallion stands still for just a moment, his entire body shuddering. I step to his side and quickly pull Lor’s ankle out of the stirrup. Lor stumbles away from the horse, his foot dragging behind him. It looks broken.

  The moment Lor is out of reach, the stallion rears again. His hooves strike dangerously close to my face. I yelp and let go of the reins.

  The horse whirls and takes off down the beach, following Tamal. I call after it, but of course it doesn’t come back.

  I walk toward Lor, realizing that I’m also limping. A sharp pain sears my right thigh, and I look down to find blood there. The stallion’s hoof must have caught my leg when he reared.

  “Are you alright?” I ask Lor.

  He frowns at me. “You’re bleeding.”

  “That’s not what I asked you about.” I reach his side and offer him my shoulder to lean on.

  Lor shakes his head and doesn’t accept my offer of support. “I’m fine. No pain, remember?”

  “Your ankle is broken,” I say, nodding to his limp foot.

  He shrugs. “Could be worse.” Then a shaky grin spreads across his face. “You know, sweetheart, when you threatened the whole trampling thing, I didn’t think you meant it seriously.”

  I roll my eyes. “This isn’t my fault. If anything, it’s—”

  A whinny interrupts me. I whirl toward it and find Lor’s stallion backed against the cliff face. It rears and bucks, but I can’t see anything threatening it. What the hell is going on?

  Then something swoops down from the cloud-cover. Its large and winged, and I shake my head, unsure how that’s possible. The bird is bigger than a horse.

  A scream tears through the air, starting as a shriek and slowly rising into a roar. I clap my hands over my ears, but can’t seem to make my feet move. I’m frozen as the creature descends from the clouds.

  I see its beak first, and decide it must be a giant eagle. Maybe something from the Southern lands, where monstrous-sized creatures are common. That would make sense, right?

  Then I see the rest of it. It has four legs, not two. The front legs end in long talons, while the back have paws that look feline. Its tail lashes back and forth, like a cat’s, and the back half of it reminds me of a sleek panther.

  It grasps something in its talons. At first I think it’s moving, but then I realize the thing it clutches is limp, moving only from the turbulence of the creature’s flapping wings.

  I peer closer at the thing in its talons, and my gut drops. It has a dark brown coat and blood dripping from its hide. Tamal.

  “It’s a gryphon,” Lor murmurs, as if answering my thoughts.

  The gryphon drops Tamal, and the horse’s body falls limply into the sand. I can see now that his side has been ripped open, exposing a bloody ribcage.

  The gryphon shrieks again, and I tear my gaze away from Tamal. The gryphon’s ivory beak is covered in red, a stark contrast to the rest of it. Every
feather and strand of fur on it is pure black, so dark it gleams blue. Its talons are ivory, and its eyes have no color at all.

  The gryphon lands next to Tamal’s body, its wings spraying sand everywhere. It lunges at Tamal’s corpse and buries its beak into the horse’s side, growling as it tears a chunk of flesh off. As it tucks its wings to its side, I see something on the gryphon’s back. A person sits astride it on a saddle.

  “Lor.” I point to the rider. “Something is riding that thing.”

  Lor grabs my hand and yanks me toward the path leading away from the beach. “Run!” he hisses at me.

  He stumbles forward with me in tow, and I struggle to keep up with him. I should be able to outrun him, but shock courses through me, numbing my limbs.

  “Faye, snap out of it!” Lor snarls. He jerks on my arm again, and as pain sears my shoulder, my adrenaline kicks in. I sprint forward, tripping on the loose sand, but refusing to let myself fall. Now I’m pulling Lor along, who struggles to stay upright with his broken ankle.

  I hear a piercing whinny that’s quickly cut short by a loud crunch. I don’t dare look back.

  “The horses should keep it busy for awhile,” Lor pants. “Gryphons hate horses.”

  “Did it come here to hunt them?” I ask.

  “No, it came for us.” Lor stumbles and falls to one knee, nearly dragging me down with him. I pull him back to his feet. He gasps and continues, “Or at least the rider came for us.”

  “Why?”

  An angry roar echoes through the air, and I hear flapping as the beast takes flight again.

  Lor turns and gives me an exasperated look. “Why do you think?”

  I swallow hard. It wants us dead. We’re both going to die, and I’ll never get a chance to avenge Ashe, or apologize to Farren, or say goodbye to Jackal.

  I run faster.

  “The castle,” Lor gasps.

  “I know,” I snap. “We need to get there. We’ll be safe.”