Shadow Crown

by Kristen Martin

  A knot twists in my stomach as I turn around, a loud humming sound filling the space around me. It grows louder and louder at an alarming rate. I cringe and throw my hands over my ears, pressing my palms as tightly as possible to block out the sound.

  I gaze up at the sky, at the source of the sound. My eyes widen at what I see. Hundreds of wispy black tethers come shooting down like arrows all around me. As they hit the ground, they dissipate to form a black fog. Eventually it gets so dense that I can’t see. I’m coughing and gasping for air simultaneously and my eyes burn as the haze seeps into my pores.

  Definitely not Xerin.

  Darkness tears into me like a sword slicing through the middle of my body. I cry out in angst, feeling petrified and alive at the same time. Black tethers swirl around me like lightning in a torrential thunderstorm. It pulls at me, my feelings, my emotions, my mind. Pulls and pulls until I feel everything and nothing all at once.

  “I knew you’d be drawn to it,” a male’s voice says. “The darkness, that is.”

  I squint, trying to discern where the voice is coming from. Even through the dense fog, a figure starts to take shape.

  “We are one in the same, you and I,” he says, “so why did you join them? Why did you join the Caldari?”

  I open my mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. It feels as if my throat is lined with chalk and dust, dry and unrelenting. I begin to cough again, and the mystery figure clucks his tongue against the roof of his mouth.

  “Such a pity, really. We could have used another one like you.”

  The man steps through the fog and, finally, I can see him clearly. He’s tall and stocky—muscular, yet lanky. Copper hair wound in tight curls sits atop his head. Bright hazel eyes meet mine.

  It’s then I realize that he’s one of the men in the photo.

  I scan the images in my memory as I pull forward the photo of the King’s Savant. He was standing next to the man with almost identical features to my own.

  What is he doing here?

  As quickly as it came, the fog begins to clear, but not in its expected fading fashion. Lines of black haze shoot back as if time is being reversed. I open my eyes wider as another figure comes into view. There is no mistaking who this man is. This is the man from the picture. The one that looks exactly like me.

  My lower lip trembles as he draws nearer, but he doesn’t fully approach me. Instead, he walks to the copper-haired man, who’s currently on his knees, gasping for air. I look between the two men, trying to understand what in lords’ name is happening, but for the life of me, I can’t.

  “Enough, Clive. She doesn’t deserve this. Leave her be.”

  I watch in both awe and fear as the fog is seemingly sucked into a black hole the second man has somehow created. It doesn’t take long for Clive to fall over completely. He lies on the ground, motionless, hands still clasped around his neck.

  The man turns to face me. Emerald green eyes lock on mine. It’s like looking into a mirror.

  “Th-thank you,” I sputter.

  A longing smile touches his lips. “It’s good to see that you’re doing well.”

  I try to hide my confusion, but I’m sure my expression has contorted into a cluster of question marks.

  “Casters are some of the most dangerous illusié,” the man warns. “You’d do best to remember that.”

  I nod my head as he takes a step closer. I swear my heart might leap out of my chest.

  “Let this token serve as a reminder.” He tosses something at my feet, something strangely familiar.

  My breath catches as I pick up the object. A gold pocket watch. I flip it over. Eliri is inscribed on the back. “How—?”

  But when I look up, he’s gone.

  I grip the watch tightly, pick myself up, and run like hell back to the others. They’re in the exact same place I’d left them, which is all the more confusing. “Did you see that?” I yell, panting.

  Estelle turns to face me. She looks even more confused than I feel. “See what?”

  “Where have you been?” Felix cuts in, clearly annoyed by my disappearance.

  I look at Rydan. “Did you?”

  “Did I what?”

  I repeatedly point to the spot in the forest. “See that? Did anyone see that?”

  Rydan shakes his head. “Honestly, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  “Argh!” I throw my hands in the air in frustration, momentarily forgetting about the watch. It slips to the ground.

  It catches Rydan’s eye, but just as he’s about to pick it up, a strong breeze—one that almost knocks us all over—sweeps through the trees. I put my hand over my eyes and gaze into the sky. A giant creature hovers over us, then starts to lower.

  “Look out!” I scream.

  Everyone looks up. Once they’ve seen why I’m yelling, they dive off into different areas of the forest. The wind picks up as enormous wings flap. The leaves on the trees rustle, and the fallen ones scatter, dancing along the forest floor. The creature lands with a loud thud, the whole ground shaking, and I can’t help but feel stunned. It’s a dragon.

  Holy lords.

  I scan its body, working my way up until I reach its eyes. They’re blood red.

  “It’s Xerin,” I say.

  The dragon makes a strange whinnying sound to confirm it actually is him.

  There’s no time for me to feel shocked or amazed. We have to get out of here. “Everyone get on his back. He’ll take us to Sardoria.”

  Estelle climbs on first, followed by Felix. Rydan hops on next and holds his hand out to me. When I grab it, my fingers brush something cold and metallic. Before I can pull away, he wraps his fingers around mine. I can feel the circular shape pressing against my palm.

  “I thought you never brought your pocket watch on Cruex missions,” he whispers.

  Good memory. I squeeze his hand tighter as he pulls me onboard. I swing my leg over the dragon, then look over my shoulder at him and say, “That’s because I don’t.”

  CERYLIA JARETH

  CERYLIA SITS IN awkward silence by the fire with Braxton, Opal, and Elvira. It’s been a few hours since Xerin left, but it might as well be an eternity. Where are the rest of them? What’s taking so long?

  Braxton sits across from her, eyes trained on the flickering flames. They dance and hiss, a mix of bright oranges, royal purples, and deep reds. Every time she looks at Braxton, she can’t help but think of Darius. The boy is the spitting image of his father. Same blonde hair. Same ice colored eyes. But Braxton’s face is kinder. Innocent.

  Hopefully that will never change.

  Her thoughts scatter as a throat clears. Both her and Braxton’s heads turn toward Opal. She bites her lower lip as if she’s weighing whether or not to speak. After a few moments, she gives in. “Sitting in silence isn’t going to make time go by any faster.”

  A beat hardly passes before Braxton says, “I’m worried.”

  Cerylia gives him a reassuring smile. “No need to be. They’re in good hands. Xerin knows what he’s doing.”

  Braxton nods, but it isn’t the slightest bit convincing.

  “They should be back by now,” Opal says. She’s turned away from them now and is staring out the window. “It’s entirely possible something’s gone wrong.”

  “Don’t talk like that,” Cerylia scolds. “They are fine. They will be here.”

  Another hour passes with no sign of Xerin, Arden, Felix, Estelle, or Rydan. Cerylia can tell that both Braxton and Opal are growing restless, while Elvira’s already drifted off into a deep sleep by the fire. I need to take their minds off of this. Distract them somehow.

  She lifts her index finger to her lips and brushes them lightly. “So, Braxton,” she starts, “you’re new to the Caldari? If you don’t mind my asking, what is your ability?”

  This seems to catch him off-guard. “I’m, uh, what they call a Deviator.” He stumbles over the words as if it’s t
he first time he’s ever had a conversation.

  “Which means what exactly?”

  “That I can return attacks back to where they originated.”

  Cerylia leans forward. “Fascinating.” She hesitates before asking her next question. “And when did you discover you had this ability?”

  Braxton shifts uncomfortably in his seat. “When I was ten years old.”

  “Isn’t that the same age you ran away from Trendalath?”

  Opal regards the queen with wide eyes. “Your Greatness, isn’t that a personal question?” Her gaze shifts to Braxton, whose eyes are now cast toward the floor.

  Cerylia ignores Opal and waits for Braxton to respond. “Well?”

  Braxton lifts his head. His eyes are glassy. “Yes.”

  Cerylia sits back in her chair. It dawns on her that she could seek vengeance on Aldreda by killing her only son. An eye for an eye, a love for a love. She’s been told there is no love like a mother’s love for her eldest son, but whoever said that had never met Cerylia and Dane. Their love could withstand anything.

  Unfortunately, they were robbed of that opportunity.

  No, she won’t seek vengeance. Not yet, anyway. Braxton seems like a decent person, even for a Tymond. She’ll have to find some other way—perhaps something worse than death.

  Just as she’s considering telling Braxton about the heinous crime his mother had committed, Opal speaks. “I don’t think I ever had the chance to properly introduce myself. I’m Opal Marston. I’m also a Caldari—an Inverter.”

  Braxton looks at her with a blank stare.

  “It means that I have the ability to travel back in time,” she adds quickly. Cerylia can tell her nerves are kicking in because she’s talking faster, and her voice has even raised an octave. “Actually, Cerylia and I recently—”

  “—went for tea,” the queen interrupts, realizing what Opal was about to bring up. “Do you like tea, Braxton?”

  Before he can answer, she claps her hands three times. “Delwynn!”

  Her advisor hobbles from around the corner into the den.

  “That was surprisingly fast,” Cerylia remarks with a small smile. “Would you be a dear and fetch us some . . .?” Her voice trails off as she notices the distraught expression on his face. “What is it?”

  “You must see this. There’s a . . . a . . . ” Delwynn sputters, not quite able to get the words out.

  Braxton shoots up from his seat. “Dragon?” he finishes.

  Delwynn’s head bobs up and down. Elvira begins to stir from all the commotion. Her eyes flutter open, and Braxton takes her hand. “They’re here.” She and Braxton take off for the castle doors with Opal right on their heels.

  Cerylia remains seated and waits patiently for her loyal advisor to turn his attention back to her. When he’s finally focused on her again, he says, “My apologies, Your Greatness. I was startled.”

  Cerylia waves her hand in the air. “No apology necessary. Now, I’m thinking I could go for some ale. Be a dear and fetch me some.”

  “Ale? At this hour?”

  “I said,” Cerylia says again, this time through clenched teeth, “bring me some.”

  Realizing his mistake, Delwynn bows and nods his head, then hurries down the corridor.

  Cerylia watches him go, then leans back into her chair. Yes, housing the Caldari and their friends will be anything but dull. And if she’s to keep up, she may as well loosen the reins a bit.

  BRAXTON HORNSBY

  BRAXTON’S NEVER SEEN two people more excited to see each other. He watches as Rydan flings himself off the dragon straight into Elvira’s arms. They hold each other close for a few moments, not letting go. From the corner of his eye, he can see Xerin, who appears to have a permanent scowl on his face, and Arden, who looks confused and almost hurt.

  Braxton doesn’t know the full history behind Rydan and Arden’s friendship, but he’s aware that they were in the Cruex together—probably even grew up together. That should make them like brother and sister, right?

  Then why does Arden look so distraught?

  Unless there’s something more to her and Rydan.

  His envy falters as a throat clears. Everyone hushes and turns toward the sound. Queen Cerylia Jareth stands in front of the doors to her enormously elegant castle. She opens her arms and, with a soft smile, says, “Welcome to the Queendom of Sardoria. I am so happy you’ve all made it here safely.” As she scans each one of them, Braxton notices her lips turn down as her eyes run over him. “Delwynn is my most trusted advisor, and he will be yours as well for the duration of your stay. Anything you need, Delwynn will assist you.”

  Braxton can’t tell if she’s trying to push the Caldari off on Delwynn because she doesn’t want to deal with them herself, or if Delwynn truly is the proper person to go to.

  “I know in Trendalath, illusié was banished, but it isn’t here. While in Sardoria, I request that you develop and hone your skills. Make yourselves stronger, more powerful.” She walks down the steps, one by one, her hand sliding along the white and gray marble banister. “Delwynn will create a training schedule for each of you—but seeing as there’s only one of him and seven of you, I may need to call in some minor reinforcements.” She smiles. “That, however, will come with time.”

  Braxton is about to interject when the queen turns and begins to climb the stairs.

  “If you’ll follow me, I’ll take each of you to your chambers.”

  Rydan, Elvira, and Felix are first to jump in line, followed by Xerin, Opal, and Estelle. Arden joins last. Braxton strolls up beside her and nudges her in the side. “Well, this ought to be interesting, wouldn’t you say?”

  She nods, but doesn’t make a sound. She’s looking far off into the distance and is focused on something else entirely.

  “What is it?”

  She blinks before turning to look at him. “From one castle to the next,” she says, biting down on her lower lip. “Will anywhere ever feel like home?”

  Without thinking, he reaches over and grabs her hand. She seems hesitant, but her fingers close around his. He squeezes her hand gently. “Home is where you make it.”

  A smile graces her lips. She bows her head and nods a few times. “I suppose that’s true.”

  They hold hands the entire way through the castle, but no one seems to notice—the other Caldari are occupied chatting amongst one another. They only break their grip once they reach their separate chambers.

  “Goodnight, Braxton,” she whispers.

  “Goodnight, Arden.” He waits until the door shuts firmly behind her. He taps the front of his door with his fingertips, trying to hide his smile, then slips into his chambers to settle in for the night.

  ARDEN ELIRI

  IT’S BEEN A little over a week since arriving in Sardoria. Tymond nor his Savant have come looking for us, which I suppose is a good sign. I feel safe in Sardoria—safer even than when we were in Orihia. I sigh as images of the beautiful tree village float across my mind. I was really starting to like it there, but I suppose I’m starting to like it here, too.

  The queen already has us started on our training—the woman doesn’t waste any time. I’m normally scheduled with Braxton, which I find comical. According to Delwynn and his many theories (trust me, he has more than I can count), Deviators and Healers are the ideal combination to train in tandem. I still don’t quite understand this, but I let the little man do his thing.

  I don’t complain. I don’t argue. I show up when it’s required of me and do as I’m told. It’s easier that way.

  For the first time in my life, I feel like I can breathe without constraint. I’m not constantly being watched under a vicious dictator—I can make mistakes, I can mess up. I don’t have to hit my mark every time. For an assassin, I thought this would be infuriating, but I actually find it quite refreshing.

  Everyone seems to be settling in just fine, except for Rydan. We still haven’t spoken in l
ength about the past, about Tymond, about our Lonia mission. It’s like he’s tucked it into the far reaches of his mind, never to pull it out again.

  Perhaps I have as well.

  Braxton and I have just left our training for the day. I sit at the desk in my new room, devouring book after book from the Caldari’s undisclosed library. I’d mentioned it to Cerylia when I’d first arrived, hoping that she’d send her guards to retrieve some of the texts, and she’d graciously obliged. Xerin had led the guards to Orihia—disguised as one of them, of course—and retrieved a large majority of the texts. When I’m not training, I spend a large portion of my time reading them. I soak it all in, hoping that it’ll all make sense one day.

  I yawn and pull the pocket watch from the corner of the bookshelf. It’s getting late. I shut the book in front of me and return it to its proper place. I look at the pocket watch again and the image of the man who gave it to me floats across my mind. It’s a dream I’ve had often this past week, one I wish would go away. Perhaps one day we’ll meet again and I’ll be able to ask the many questions left unanswered. Or perhaps not.

  Only time will tell.

  Just as I’m about to wind down for bed, heavy footsteps race past my door. My curiosity getting the better of me, I hastily grab my cloak and wrap it around me, then hurry over to the door, opening it just a crack. A head of jet-black hair turns a corner.

  Rydan.

  I close the door behind me and sneak down the corridor, trying to hurry and be as light on my feet as humanly possible. Just as I reach the end, I peer down the hall to see Rydan turn yet another corner.

  Where is he going?

  I continue to follow him until we’re just outside the castle doors. As he’s about to descend the snow-filled steps, he seems to notice my presence. He turns around slowly. It’s the first one-on-one encounter we’ve had since the Lonia mission. The same mission where I bashed him over the head with a lantern and left him by himself.