by Avril Sabine
Krisa slipped into her room, Lani, one of her friends, staying as lookout at the door. Krisa glanced around the room, distaste on her face. “How can she live like this? It’s so basic.” She opened the chest and stared at the contents.
“Hurry up, Krisa. We don’t want to get caught.” Lani glanced into the room before she returned to peering up and down the hallway.
“It doesn’t matter. I have that sorted. If we’re caught I’ll say I’m leaving her one of my lace hankies. Poor girl has none of her own. Why, she doesn’t even have a decent dress to wear if her current attire is any indication.” She laughed at her false tone of sincerity as she fingered the material of the folded clothes in the chest. “This isn’t even silk. She’s clueless.” Next she picked up the knitting pattern and looked at it. “Lani, come here.”
“What if someone comes?”
“Lani.” There was a threat in her tone that brought Lani immediately to Krisa’s side. She held out the pattern. “Who wrote this?”
Lani read it over. “It looks like Jurn’s writing.”
Krisa smiled. “I thought so.”
“What are you going to do?”
Krisa dropped the lid of the chest and tucked the pattern into her reticule. “My mother did not go to the effort of making my name similar to the queen’s and pandering to her all these years to let some upstart come in and steal my place. Even if everyone else doesn’t realise it, I know the queen will eventually accept her when the captain returns.”
“How are you going to stop her?”
Krisa linked her arm through Lani’s. “Is that palace guard still madly in love with you?”
Lani nodded as they walked towards the door.
“And he’ll do whatever you want?” Krisa paused in the doorway.
“Of course.”
“I have the most delicious plan. You’re going to love it.” Krisa closed the door, a sly smile curving her lips.
Shadow sat on the top of her chest as the vision faded. Didn’t Krisa realise she wasn’t interested in taking her place? And the queen probably hated her more than Krisa did and would never accept her. She felt alone. Completely alone. She hadn’t even seen her brother in days. Sliding her sword out of the scabbard she sat it across her lap, fingering the engraving. When her fingers tingled again, she closed her eyes and sank gratefully into another vision.
Carson peered into a fire, his hands wrapped around a mug he sipped from. The sounds of murmured conversations drifted to him, but he sat alone. Across the fire was Gil, head tilted back as he stared into the starlit sky. Carson looked around and Shadow wished there was a way to tell him she could see him. Hear him.
Carson rose to his feet and strode over to Gil who took his time watching the sky before he finally gave his attention to Carson. “Are you sure there’s no one magic hid around here?”
Shadow watched as her Pa rose and slowly turned, checking his surroundings. He frowned and rubbed the back of his neck. “If the old girl weren’t dead I’d think it was Gennie’s Ma checking up on me. She had a lock of Gennie’s hair she’d use to check what we were up to. It didn’t always work but she could call up visions of the near future, the present and the not too distant past. Gave me the creeps.”
“Your wife or children don’t have it, do they?”
Gil shook his head. “Gennie said she wished she did when I was lost. She tried every day but not a single spark.”
“Your children?”
Gil started to shake his head then swore. “Anything’s possible with that bloody Shadow.”
Carson grinned. “That’s certainly the truth.” He paused a moment. “These visions. What are they like?”
Gil shrugged. “The old girl reckoned she could see and hear as clear as if she stood there when she was having a good one. Sometimes they were hazy and muffled. Or didn’t come at all. Why?”
“Just wondering.” He paused. “Thanks.” A nod and he strode away from the campfire to stand alone among the trees. Silence filled the night and Shadow was about to let go of the vision as it was becoming harder to hold.
“Shadow.” The word was spoken so softly she almost didn’t hear it.
She fought to hold onto the vision.
“I miss you, Shadow. Check on me any time you want.”
The vision evaporated and Shadow wanted to scream in frustration. She ran her fingers back and forth along the engraving. Nothing happened. She ran the back of her hand across her eyes when they blurred and was surprised by the dampness. Rising to her feet she sheathed her sword. There was no way she’d be able to sleep. Her hand rested on her pommel and she quickly came to a decision.
When she reached the training grounds she was surprised to find Jurn there, his sword slashing imaginary foes. If his movements were anything to go by, he was helplessly outnumbered. She drew her sword and he turned at the sound. He watched silently as she stepped forward.
At his sharp nod she attacked. He met her blows, the sound of metal singing in the night air. Time became meaningless, measured only by the collision of metal and the sharp breaths of exertion. When Shadow’s sword eventually landed on the ground, Jurn stepped back and gestured towards it.
She watched him a moment before she cautiously bent to retrieve it. He beckoned her to come at him again. Another watchful moment before Shadow complied. She was beginning to tire, her arms a burning ache, but still she continued. Her movements slowed and she concentrated on defending, attacking beyond her. And still Jurn came at her, his movements full of fury. When Shadow’s sword landed on the ground again, Jurn held his sword at her throat.
Her eyes met his, refusing to flinch away from the anger in them. There was little true darkness in the castle and its grounds. Lanterns dispelled any chance it had to take hold so there was no mistaking the equal parts of anger and venom. She held herself still, ready to move if he continued to attack. Not to run, she knew she couldn’t outrun him, but maybe grab the knife from her boot. Then he lowered the sword and spun away, sheathing it as he left.
Shadow watched him walk towards the castle before she collected her own sword and sheathed it. Her steps were slower as she headed to the castle, wondering if Jurn was one of the many people who lived there.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Shadow was doing push ups on her bedroom floor when there was a knock at her door. She jumped to her feet, grinning that she felt no aches after last night’s practice session. Or had it been a fight she’d twice lost? Either way, she never wanted to run out of bruise balm. She swung the door open and took the well folded paper Radler handed her, her name scrawled across the front. In his other hand was a basket covered in a cloth.
“Enjoy your breakfast, Lady Shadow.” He held out the basket.
“Thank you.” Once she took it from him, he turned and headed down the hallway. Shadow was surprised to see her brother coming towards her, yawning. “What are you doing up so early?”
He grinned. “I’m not up. Or should I say I haven’t gone to bed yet.” He yawned again. “Not everyone wants a daily dose of the torture they call army.”
“Who told you?”
He shrugged. “There’s rumours everywhere. Most of them are about you failing. You better not.” He pointed at her in warning. “I’ve got a lot of money riding on you.”
“You’re betting on me to win?”
“I’m not stupid enough to think you’re going to lose.”
“No, I mean-” she broke off, waving the rest of her words away with her hand. “Oh forget it. I should be used to you gambling on everything possible.”
“Only on a winner.” He grinned and reached out to check under the cloth draped over the basket.
Shadow dragged it away from him. “Mine.”
“Heartless wench. I’m off to bed.” Irlan started to move towards his room.
“Irlan.” She waited until he turned towards her. “You’re fine? Everything’s well?”
Irlan grinned. “Couldn’t be better. Who’d ha
ve imagined we’d end up at the castle? Not bad little sister. I’m looking forward to your next miracle.”
“There aren’t going to be anymore miracles.” She emphasised the last word.
“Of course there will. In four days.” He grinned. “Night.” His grin remained in place as he turned and strolled towards his room.
Shadow shook her head as she stared after her brother. Miracle. Not likely. It was going to take a lot of hard work. She closed her door and sat on her bed, pulling back the cloth from the basket to find a mix of pastries and Carson’s favourite biscuits. She took a bite of a biscuit and dropped it in the basket so she could undo the string holding the letter closed. It was folded up several times and she quickly found the reason. A lock of Carson’s hair.
‘Shadow, I hope this will make it easier for you. I wish I could do the same. I guess I will have to wait to find out what chaos you’re creating. Love Carson.’
With a smile, Shadow tucked the letter into her belt pouch along with the other two. With Krisa thinking she could wander into her room there was no way she’d even think about leaving them behind. She fingered the lock of black hair and focused on Carson. She felt a tingle and closed her eyes as the vision sharpened. He walked along, leading his horse, two of his men in front of him.
Carson looked up from the ground he studied. After a glance around, he smiled, pressing the fingers of his right hand momentarily against his heart. His glance had shown Shadow the rest of the soldiers and her Pa following him.
One of the men looked back and stared at Carson for a moment. “What are you grinning about, Captain? We’ve been dancing through these hills too long to find anything worth celebrating. How long’s it gonna take to get that army together?”
“A couple more weeks. Maybe a little longer and then we can head home,” Carson said.
“Grinning?” Gil came alongside him. He rubbed the back of his neck once he came into Shadow’s viewing area. “I thought so. You better watch out for that brother of yours, Shadow. You owe me for this, girl.”
“For what?” Carson asked.
Gil shook his head. “That’s between me and my girl.”
“The pair of you have cracked,” the soldier said, hurrying ahead. “That’ll teach you for playing cat and mouse with an army too big to take on.”
Carson chuckled. “I wasn’t the one talking to people who aren’t actually here.”
“She might as well be,” Gil grumbled. “Take up embroidery or something. Try and stay out of trouble for once.”
Farnell joined them. “How can you be certain it’s Shadow? It could be anyone spying on what we’re up to.”
“You need something personal to view over long distances, or be very attached to the one you’re viewing. How many people are running around with locks of his hair?” Gil nodded towards Carson.
“One,” Carson answered.
Shadow almost groaned when the vision slipped from her grasp, but a smile still formed when she thought of his answer. One. That had to be her. She slid her hand into her belt pouch and reluctantly let go of the lock of hair. And no one else was going to get hold of it. No wonder people threw their hair into a fire when they had it cut. She thought of the hair she’d left behind for her Ma to find. Usually.
Shadow did groan when she realised how much time had passed. She’d have to rush to get to the training grounds before Dore. Grabbing a handful of the food from the basket she slid her boots on and raced through hallways, ignoring muttered curses from the few people she passed. Once she stepped outside she slowed her pace, arriving at the training grounds minutes before Dore.
They fell into place before him and he glared at them, holding up a page. Shadow stared at the pattern, keeping her eyes on it when she would have preferred checking Jurn’s reaction.
“Well? Anyone going to tell me what this is?”
“It’s mine,” Shadow said at the same time as Jurn said, “It belongs to me.”
She had no idea what Krisa had instigated, but it wasn’t fair to let Jurn take the blame when it was her Krisa was trying to harm. “You can’t take it back, Jurn. It’s mine.”
“He gave this to you.” Dore faced Shadow.
Shadow nodded.
“Why?”
“How did you get it?” Shadow stalled for time.
“I ask the questions. You answer.” Dore’s eyes bore into her.
Shadow was tempted to tell him her Pa could teach him a few lessons on how to have a person quiver in their boots with just a look. “It was a joke. I gave him knitting needles.”
Dore stared at her a moment longer. “You.” He pointed at Shadow. “And you.” His finger aimed at Jurn. “Follow. The rest of you.” His gaze fell on the rest of the squad. “Push ups.”
No one dared to groan as Dore strode away. Shadow and Jurn followed him.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Jurn hissed.
“Don’t blame this on me. It’s all Krisa’s effort.”
“What did you do to her?”
Shadow couldn’t resist grinning. “She’s threatened by my stunning beauty and worried I’ll steal all her love struck followers.”
Any words Jurn might have spoken were prevented by Dore. “Wipe that grin off your face. There’s nothing amusing here. Or is that the plan? Get rid of the toughest competition.”
“Maybe you should be telling us what’s happening. We’re the ones confused,” Shadow said.
Dore’s eyes narrowed further until he looked like he might draw his sword. “A palace guard brought this to me this morning.” He shook the paper. “The queen is not impressed her protégée is the brunt of these unamusing jokes and would like the soldier at blame to be punished for his poor attempt at humour.” His gaze turned to Jurn. “Can you imagine how severe that punishment would need to be, soldier?”
“Yes, sir.” Jurn held his gaze unflinching.
“I started this,” Shadow said.
“This is your writing?” Dore waved the paper at her face.
“No, sir. Ask him where the knitting needles are I gave him.”
Dore turned to Jurn. “Well?”
Jurn pulled the needles from his boot and held them out. Each wooden needle had been sharpened to a point, looking more like weapons.
“When did you get these?” Dore pointed towards the needles.
Shadow answered before Jurn could. “We swapped gifts yesterday. Sir.”
“Did I ask you?”
“No, sir.” Shadow shook her head.
Dore turned back to Jurn. “Well?”
“We swapped gifts yesterday, sir.” Jurn repeated Shadow’s words.
“Then what’s going on?” Dore roared.
“I guess the queen was misinformed about the joke, sir.” Shadow shrugged. “It happens. You know how many mouths every comment goes through. I’m surprised it wasn’t even more garbled by the time it reached the queen’s ears.”
Dore stared at her a moment longer. “And what do you suggest I do with this?” He waved the pattern at her again.
Shadow remembered Iain’s words about how she should act around Dore. She took a steady breath and tried to remain relaxed. “Maybe you should keep it for the one who wins your ball of wool. Sir.”
Dore pulled the ball of wool from his belt pouch and held it out to her. “Maybe I should give both of them to you right now. And those knitting needles.”
Jurn held the needles out to Dore again.
Shadow was tempted to thank him for his help. Right before she stabbed him with one of the needles he’d sharpened. “That was a quick seven days, sir.”
Dore glared at her a moment longer before he turned to Jurn, shoving the pattern at him. “Fifty push ups. The two of you.” He strode back to the rest of the squad.
“That’s mine.” Shadow snatched the pattern from him and folded it to fit in her belt pouch.
“How did Krisa get it?”
“She obviously believes people welcome her going through their t
hings and helping herself to whatever she wants.”
Jurn slid the needles into his boot before he dropped to the ground and started doing push ups. “This changes nothing.”
Shadow joined him. “What do you mean?”
“This is your fault. I owe you nothing.”
She was about to make a reply she was sure she’d regret later when a glitter caught her attention. Jurn’s father was at the edge of the training grounds, watching. “Why does your father trail after you?”
“Where?”
Shadow described the location and was surprised when Jurn didn’t even look in the direction. “Does he do this often?” When he didn’t answer, she said. “I saved your butt. How about we call the answer a fair exchange.” Silence stretched out and she began to think he wasn’t going to answer.
“Must do. Or at least someone regularly follows since he knows everything I do.”
They fell silent, both doing their push ups. Jurn finished first. She watched him walk away then glanced to where his father still watched. She was beginning to think Gil was the better father and that was a scary thought.
When Shadow rejoined the squad, Dore called them to attention, ending the hand to hand training early. He clasped his hands behind his back and waited until they were neatly lined up. “Dagger throwing. You better all be carrying one. No soldier wanders around with a single weapon.” He was silent a moment. “Well? Where are they?”
They all reached into their boots and pulled out daggers, looking towards the targets they usually used for crossbow training when Dore pointed in that direction.
“Well? What are you waiting for? My funeral?” When they started to move away, Dore pointed first to Jurn, then Shadow. “Not you two.” He paused while they came to a halt in front of him. “I believe you both have another weapon you prefer.” His gaze fell onto Jurn’s boot he’d tucked the knitting needles into. “Well?”
“Yes, sir.” Jurn tucked his dagger into his boot and pulled out the needles, handing one to Shadow.