Shadow Crown

by Kristen Martin

  If only he had as much faith in them as Elvira—it certainly would make things a hell of a lot easier.

  DARIUS TYMOND

  DARIUS IS ALMOST certain the members of the Caldari reside somewhere in the Isle of Lonia. After Clive’s discovery of the partially injured fawn, he’d made an executive decision to send his most senior Savant member back to the Thering Forest. Clive hadn’t seemed too thrilled with his assignment, but he’d bitten his tongue and obliged.

  He’d tried to get Darius to go with him, but the king had been set on staying in Trendalath. After all, with Elvira’s execution quickly approaching, what kind of king would leave, especially when he has every intention of making an example out of the girl?

  “A coward, that’s who,” Darius mutters, answering himself. He finishes polishing the looking glass Clive had given him just a few hours prior. Even though Darius wouldn’t go with him to Lonia, he still wanted to keep an eye on things. This also gave him another excuse to keep Clive away from his wife for a little while longer.

  A win-win.

  He holds up the looking glass and repeats the incantation provided by Clive. A purple glow emanates from the glass, brightening around the sphere. He sets it down on the little stand in front of his throne and rubs his hands together with glee, then takes a seat and points his gaze at the mystical object. Like clockwork, Clive appears. He’s walking on the outskirts of the town, right on the edge of the forest. He looks dreadful, like he hasn’t slept in days, and he doesn’t appear to be his usual snarky self. For a moment, Darius doubts his decision. Perhaps he should have let Clive rest for a day.

  No, there wasn’t any time. He had to leave immediately.

  His internal battle carries on longer than expected until Clive ducking into the brush distracts him from his own debilitating thoughts. There seems to be a minor delay with what the looking glass is portraying and what is actually happening in Lonia. He rises from his throne and taps the glass, as if that’s going to help it catch up to real-time.

  He watches with curiosity as Clive wanders deeper into the forest, wondering where he’s headed—but as the lapse in time grows larger, so does his frustration. Just as he’s about to turn away and give up, Clive stops in his tracks. The looking glass has a chance to catch up, and Darius notices an animal just off in the distance. It appears to be injured.

  As he draws nearer, Darius realizes that the animal is the injured fawn Clive had reported earlier during his search for Arden. Although he doesn’t want to admit it, it’s a smart move. For once, Clive has done something right.

  Twigs snap. Leaves crunch. He moves to the edge of his seat, watching as Clive backs away from the fawn and hides in a shallow ditch nearby, behind a towering oak tree. He brings the sphere closer to his face, knowing full well that this won’t improve his view. Psychologically, it satisfies some need.

  Two shadowed figures come into view. From the high-pitched sound of their voices, he can tell it’s two women, but whether or not they’re Caldari, he hasn’t a clue. The first one comes into view. Long black hair, violet eyes, and mocha colored skin. Darius has never seen her before, nor does he care. His focus is trained on the second figure. He catches a glimpse of emerald eyes and chestnut hair and inhales a sharp breath.

  “It’s her,” he mutters to himself, then yells, “It’s her!” He knows that Clive can’t hear him, but that doesn’t keep him from shouting, “That’s Arden! That’s her!”

  “Is this the fawn?” the midnight-haired girl asks.

  “That’s it,” Arden says as she approaches the injured animal. She kneels next to it, checking for vitals. “It’s still alive.”

  She seems relieved.

  Darius’s gaze shifts to the shallow ditch that Clive is hiding in. “Why aren’t you doing anything? That’s Arden! Bring her to me!” he snaps, even though his demands are futile.

  Arden gently places her hands on the fawn. What is she doing? The king’s mouth drops as a soft white glow appears around her hands.

  She knows of her abilities.

  Anger roils deep within until he can’t hold it in any longer. He smacks his hand down on the table, nearly sending the looking glass over the edge. He catches it just in time.

  “Why aren’t you doing anything!” he yells again, wishing more than anything that Clive could hear him. As if on cue, Clive appears and makes himself known. The midnight-haired girl steps in front of Arden and commands that Clive leave, but he stands his ground.

  “Your friend comes with me,” Clive says, his tone flat.

  “By whose order?” the midnight-haired girl shoots back.

  Clive narrows his eyes, his mouth twitching in annoyance. “I don’t answer to you.”

  “Well, we don’t answer to you.” The midnight-haired girl stays in front of Arden, blocking Clive from her like a giant, impenetrable wall.

  Clive narrows his eyes as his lips turn upward into a half smile. Darius knows exactly what he’s about to do—he’s going to use his ability. As a Caster, he’s able to cast and weave illusions to alter his victim’s senses and perceptions of their surroundings. Having been a victim of one of these himself, numerous times over, he knows the shock and agony that comes with not being able to determine what’s real and what’s fake.

  Arden pushes her way in front of Estelle. She draws weapons from her holsters, spinning the blades in her hands with ease. “I suggest you turn around,” she hisses. “And don’t come back ever again.”

  Clive raises one hand in the air. It appears as though he’s about to surrender—until he flicks his wrist. Arden’s once determined and daring expression turns into one of shock and fear. Even though Darius can’t see what illusion Clive has cast around her, he knows exactly what she must be feeling—and it isn’t the least bit enjoyable.

  Arden tries to fight back, aiming her chakrams at emptiness while her friend screams, “It’s not real!” He’s not sure what the midnight-haired girl’s abilities are, or if she even has any, so there’s no use in worrying about her. For now, she’s just a bystander.

  The expression on Clive’s face grows darker and darker as he weaves what are likely to be more elaborate—and terrifying—illusions around her. The thought alone is enough to make him shudder. Clive’s mind isn’t just bleak—it’s downright twisted. His sense of right and wrong is completely warped. The affair with his wife is evidence enough.

  He shoves the thought from his mind and focuses back on the looking glass. Arden seems to be fading. Any minute now, Clive should be able to shackle her and bring her back to the castle.

  Just as Arden is about to fall to the ground, the midnight-haired girl flings a dagger right at Clive’s head. It barely skims his cheek as it lodges itself into a tree. It does its job though—it’s enough to distract him.

  Darius watches with dread as the girl rushes to Arden and, suddenly, they’re gone. “No, no, no,” he mutters to himself. He taps the looking glass, hoping that maybe he’s missed something, but no. He saw it with his own two eyes. The other girl is a Caldari. A Cloaker.

  Damn invisibility—the ability for cowards.

  It takes a few moments, but Clive seems to finally understand what’s just happened. He throws his fists into the air, punching at the sky, then grabs the handle of the dagger and wrenches it from the tree. He shouts some profanities before turning around and storming back into town.

  Darius knows the feeling well. She’s slipped right through his fingers, yet again.

  CERYLIA JARETH

  “DO YOU THINK I should go with them?”

  Cerylia knew the question would come eventually, but, even so, it still catches her off-guard. She glances at Opal, then takes a long sip of her tea.

  “I don’t know whether to take your silence as being deep in thought, or a flat-out no,” Opal jests.

  Cerylia regards her with a small smile. “I think you made the right decision by staying here,” she says.

  “I thi
nk you mean to say that you made the right decision in making me stay here.” She’s quiet, then adds, “Your Greatness.”

  Cerylia sighs. “The Caldari hardly even have a coherent plan in place. They’re a bunch of rogue misfits trying to do good in a kingdom where they don’t have the upper hand.”

  “Oh.”

  From the hurt look in Opal’s eyes, the queen can tell she’s gone a little too far. “I’m not saying you’re a misfit, Opal—”

  “But I’m one of them.” She looks down at her hands, fidgeting with the edge of her plate.

  “Aren’t you hungry?” Cerylia asks, trying to change the subject.

  Opal pushes her plate away from her before scooting her chair back. “May I be excused, Your Greatness?”

  Cerylia sets down her teacup and gives the girl a pleading look. When she doesn’t respond, the queen waves her hand in the air and says, “Yes, yes, you are excused.”

  The door shuts firmly behind Opal, leaving Cerylia alone with her thoughts, which isn’t necessarily a good thing at the present moment. From the stories Cerylia had heard of the great Caldari, she’d always admired their tenacity and courage, their skill and prowess.

  But after meeting with Braxton Tymond—or Braxton Hornsby, as he prefers to be called now—Cerylia can’t help but feel as though the legends and tales she’d heard had been exaggerated to a higher degree. Their plan to overthrow King Tymond is not only disjointed and rushed, but the overall organization of their expertise and abilities seems, frankly, like a chaotic mess.

  It wasn’t at all what she’d expected, especially after working with someone like Opal. Opal had integrity, courage, and skill, yet she was also unforgiving and resilient—the way a Caldari should be.

  She pours another cup of tea, blowing on the steaming liquid before raising it to her mouth. It goes down smooth, warming her to the bone. Opal’s question repeats over and over again in her head. Do you think I should go with them?

  When Braxton had shown up at her doorstep, she’d invited him in, albeit feeling hesitant to do so. It was well known around Aeridon that the Tymond’s son, heir to the Trendalath throne, had run away at the young age of ten; so it was a given that Braxton despised both Darius and Aldreda just as much as she did.

  Right out of the gate, he’d asked if Sardoria could be a safe haven for the Caldari. Seeing as she’d already had one of their members, how could she say no?

  Braxton had presented the bare bones of their plan, and nowhere did it involve Opal’s time-traveling abilities. At the time, Cerylia could sense the hurt Opal was feeling as she sat across the room and listened, completely removed from the conversation. Braxton had been in a rush to get back to the Caldari, so Cerylia had given him the answer he’d wanted to hear and let him go. Of course, she still plans to stick by it—she is, and always will be, a woman of her word, unlike so many others that have crossed her path.

  Another long sip of tea has her feeling satisfied. She pushes her chair away from the table and rises. Her robes swish as she makes her way across the table to blow out the candles.

  The room goes dark.

  As she heads for the door, she stops mid-step. Tomorrow will be a big day. Best to put her mind at ease. She relights one of the candles as she surveys the room. Her eyes land on a bottle of red wine.

  Yes, that will certainly do.

  BRAXTON HORNSBY

  BRAXTON’S CAUGHT IN a mid-afternoon snooze when loud shouts ring out in Orihia. He throws the covers off of him and stumbles out of bed, looking for his boots. He spots them in the corner of his room and pulls them on, then rushes out the door. He recognizes the voices to be Estelle’s and Arden’s, but the field outside his dwelling is empty. They’re nowhere to be seen.

  “Are you cloaked?” Braxton yells as he rubs the sleep from his eyes. “Estelle? Arden?”

  The two suddenly appear just a few feet away from him, causing him to jump. “Lords, you scared me!” He shakes his head. “What’s going on? Why are you shouting?”

  Before they can answer, Estelle takes off toward Felix’s dwelling.

  Braxton gives Arden a confused look. “Should we follow her?”

  Arden just shrugs.

  “Grab Xerin!” Estelle yells over her shoulder as she swings the door open to Felix’s place.

  Braxton does as he’s told as Arden runs in the opposite direction, toward Felix’s. Braxton pounds on Xerin’s door, waiting impatiently for him to answer. He glances over his shoulder, wondering what’s gotten Estelle so worked up. When Xerin doesn’t answer, he bangs on the door again, even louder this time. “Xerin!” he shouts.

  No answer.

  He forces his way in, quickly surveying the area. Bed made. Fire out. Window open. He rushes toward the window and pokes his head outside.

  Still no Xerin.

  His eyes scan the grassy meadow until they land on a tree in the distance. A bird is perched on one of the branches. A black falcon.

  Feeling overwhelmed, he pulls his head back inside, cursing as he bumps it on the edge of the window, then darts over to the back door. He swings it open and runs across the back porch, flailing his arms in the air to try and get the bird’s attention.

  It works.

  The bird cocks its head toward him, then hops from the tree onto the ground. A yellow glow appears around the animal, and Braxton taps his foot as the transformation ensues. A few moments later, Xerin’s head appears above a haystack.

  “You look crazed,” Xerin says as he pulls a tunic over his head.

  Braxton averts his gaze as he gets dressed. “Estelle and Arden are calling a meeting,” he pants. He hadn’t realized how out of breath he was until now. “They seem pretty shaken up, like they have something urgent they need to tell us. Come on.”

  Xerin tugs on the bottom of his tunic, and Braxton ventures around the haystack, pulling his sleeve to get him moving. They jog side by side until they reach Felix’s house. The door is wide open, so they let themselves in. Estelle, Arden, and Felix are gathered around the table. They rise when Braxton and Xerin enter.

  By the concerned looks on their faces, Braxton assumes they won’t be bearing good news. “What’s going on?”

  Estelle looks right at him before saying, “It’s time to set our plan in motion.”

  Braxton gulps as his gaze shifts from her to Arden. “Right now? Why? I thought we’d have more time.”

  Arden shakes her head. “Unfortunately, our security is at stake.”

  He gives her a confused look.

  She glances at Estelle, then raises her chin a little higher.

  Braxton cringes, knowing exactly what’s about to come out of her mouth. It’s the one thing he’s been dreading—the one thing they’re not fully prepared for. Don’t say it. Don’t say it.

  She says it anyway. “The King’s Savant is in Orihia.”

  ARDEN ELIRI

  I SPEND THE remainder of the evening ensuring that I’ve packed everything I need for our mission. Even though I haven’t been in Orihia for very long, it’s come to feel like my new home. I survey the space around me—the stone fireplace, the wobbly wooden table and chairs, the bed that Juniper and I fit perfectly in—and can’t help but feel an overwhelming sense of sadness. Just when I was settling in, just when things seemed to be turning for the better, the King’s Savant had to ride in and ruin everything.

  I sigh as I secure my pack and throw it over my shoulder. Juniper is sitting patiently on the bed. I can tell she doesn’t want to leave either. “Come on, girl,” I say, patting my leg. She hops off the bed, but instead of coming over to me, she wanders over to the bookshelf. I try again to call her over, but to no avail. I give her an exasperated look before walking over to a nearby cabinet. I pull some juniper berries from a small rag I’d collected just a few days prior. I try once again. “Here, girl. I have a treat for you.”

  The little fox takes a few steps forward, then turns around with her tail in the
air, and heads back to the bookshelf. I cross my arms. I will not let her temperamental behavior get the best of me. I try one more time, and I’m not sure if I’m seeing things, but I swear she just bobbed her head toward the bookshelf. I walk over to where she’s sitting and kneel so that I’m eye-level with the lower shelf. The book I’d “borrowed” from Estelle stares back at me.

  I scratch Juniper behind the ears. “You’re too smart for your own good,” I say as I grab the book and stuff it into my bag. I give her some berries and she trots happily behind me out the door.

  

  “Don’t fall behind!” Estelle yells from the front of the group. Her abundance of energy is truly astounding, but after realizing that even Felix and Braxton are having a hard time keeping up, I don’t feel so bad. Xerin flies overhead, just a couple of paces behind Estelle. I’m at the back of the group, keeping an eye out for any signs of the Savant. Juniper’s helping, and her little nose twitches as she raises it into the air.

  After discovering that one of the Savant members had been in the Thering Forest, Estelle thought it best not to risk our safety. She recommended that we travel on the outskirts of the Thering Forest in order to reach Lonia bay. Felix has his ship docked there and ready for departure, so as far as I know, that’s the first piece of the plan.

  I reach into my pocket, feeling grateful for swiping the berries from my dwelling. After a few hours on foot, I know we should be nearing the bay soon, but my stomach won’t stop rumbling. I pop a few berries into my mouth. Juniper looks up at me with pleading eyes, so I stop for a second to give her some.

  “Better keep up, Eliri!” Estelle calls.

  I roll my eyes as I tuck the food back into my pocket and jog over to them. I catch up to Braxton and give him a playful nudge in the shoulder.