“So, while you may not like me and I certainly do not like you, consider Shade. Even if he doesn’t seem to care, he should. Without a reputation, he is nothing in society and you are killing his. I’ll give you a week to part ways with him so you can do it without too much drama,” Cassia finished. Jala was sure she had missed some of the girl’s words, but really didn’t care to think what they might have been. There was obvious threat in her last words, though, and that shouldn’t be ignored.
“Cassia, does your brother know you have gotten out of your kennel again?” Finn asked as he dropped lightly into the chair by Jala. Cassia looked at him in disbelief, and outrage at his greeting. “I know he would be upset if anything happened to you. From what I hear you are the favorite bitch of the Avanti House,” he finished with a smile.
She glared in mute outrage and then looked to Jala with an expression that could wilt flowers. “We will speak of this later,” she hissed and rose with the toss of her head and stalked off.
“That really is a wonderful dress, Cassia. It does amazing work at slimming. You should keep that tailor.” Finn called after her in a cheerful voice.
Jala stared at him, her eyes wide. “I can’t believe you said that to her,” she whispered after a moment.
Finn turned to face her, his expression no longer cheerful. “She is a bitch and that dress does make her ass look smaller,” he returned with a shrug. “Are you OK? What did she say to you?” he asked with a look of concern.
“A lot and nothing I care to repeat,” Jala answered quietly. She looked up at him and almost broke into tears. “You know I didn’t know, right?” She asked.
He gave a slight nod. “I know, and I tried to prompt him into telling you,” he replied, his tone more serious than she had ever heard from him.
“What do they say about me? I wondered why they all stared, but I didn’t realize there were rumors about me and Shade.” She watched him half afraid of his answer.
He toyed with the edge of the chocolate box and gave a light shrug. “They say you are his whore and that he enrolled you in school to keep you close as a bit of a joke. They say a lot of things. It’s their form of entertainment. They pick on those with less social standing and plot ways to kill each other off. Give it time and they will find another target.” He spoke softly and gently, but it didn’t take the edge off his words. “I’ve been avoiding you to keep more rumors from forming. I have my own reputation, and it would have done nothing but add fuel to the fire surrounding you,” he admitted with a sigh.
“I thought you just didn’t have any interest in my company,” she replied. The knot in her throat was getting bigger. She would have to leave the garden soon or risk breaking into tears in front of everyone. She could feel their eyes on them. “You know, I’m not, right?’ she asked at last, half dreading his answer.
“What? His whore?” He raised an eyebrow. “Of course I know you’re not that sort. Believe me, if anyone can spot that sort it’s me,” he said with a bitter chuckle. “I was avoiding you for that exact reason. People know what sort of women I keep company with, and I didn’t want them to think worse of you than Shade was already letting them think.” He shook his head. “He should have known better. This mess lies directly at his feet,” he finished in a voice that was almost a growl.
“I don’t know why he didn’t tell me, but I won’t believe he did this with any malice. Shade is my friend,” she objected hoarsely and rested her elbows on the table and rubbed her face.
He regarded her thoughtfully for a moment and shrugged. “You know him better than I do, I’m sure,” he said. Leaning forward a bit, he flipped the box open silently and looked at the chocolates. He raised an eyebrow and lifted one of the “I love you” pieces out. “Oh, you are just having a great day all around,” he said dryly. “Well, if nothing else, you got chocolate out of it,” he said with a shrug and popped the chocolate into his mouth chewing slowly. His expression changed from a faint smile to disbelief after the first few chews. His chewing slowed and he swallowed, his eyes locked on her with the look of concern back on his face. “Jala, have you eaten any of these?” he asked.
She dropped her hands back to the table and looked at him wearily. “No, why?” She asked with a soft shake of her head.
“They are filled with rather strong alcohol,” he said then sucked on his teeth lightly. “And if I’m not mistaken are laced with Nesra,” he finished and looked back down at the box, shaking it slightly to see how many candies were inside.
“I don’t even know what Nesra is, Finn,” she admitted. She rubbed her face again and looked around at the people still watching them. “I can’t believe they don’t have something better to do,” she sighed.
“Nesra is an aphrodisiac, Jala, and there is enough in all this candy to have you panting after anything that moves,” he said, ignoring their audience completely.
She stared at him and looked down at the box and shook her head in disbelief. “Wonderful, just bloody wonderful,” she said in disgust.
“Marry me, indeed. Enough of these chocolates and you would be drunk and horny enough to do that.” Finn shook his head, his tone sharing her disgust. “That boy has issues.” He closed the box and leaned on the table watching her.
She sat for a moment longer and then looked at Finn, hoping he would understand. “I have to go Finn, I don’t want to be rude, but I have to leave here. It’s too much. I can’t take them watching me. I refuse to break in front of them.” She stood quickly and picked up her book, she grabbed the box of chocolates as well, and was turning to leave when he gently took her arm. She hadn’t even noticed him stand.
“Calmly now. If you don’t want them to see you break, we won’t even let them see you crack. Give me a bit of a smile, just fake it for a second. Once we are past them, you can cry on my shoulder if you want,” he whispered to her as he began to walk from the garden with her in calm measured steps. She forced a smile to her face and walked out with as much dignity as she could muster.
“Thank you,” she whispered to him at the edge of the garden.
He nodded in reply and looked around for a moment. “Where are we going?” He asked. “I’ll walk you there and then head back to the garden so they don’t have a chance to gossip too much.”
“I’m just going to go back to my rooms and lie down. I want to sleep before I talk to Shade. I haven’t been sleeping well, and I’m sure that’s why I’m handling this so poorly,” she replied. He gave a nod and guided their steps that way. He remained quiet the entire way back to the rooms, and she silently thanked him for it, because talking was the last thing she felt like doing right now. She gave Finn a light hug in thanks at the door, and headed straight for her rooms. Crawling under the blankets and covering her head with her pillow seemed the perfect solution to the day.
Chapter 14
Sanctuary
Shade entered the hall to find Oma just on the other side of the door, apparently waiting for him. She regarded him, her pale blue eyes almost accusing. He paused, his expression bewildered.
“What?” He asked in confusion.
“She is upset, very upset, and I think it is your fault,” Oma accused in her quiet voice.
Shade blinked and looked toward Jala’s door and started to head that way. Oma stopped him with a light hand on his arm. “She is sleeping right now, and you should let her until the nightmares wake her. She needs what restful sleep she can get,” Oma said.
“What nightmares?” Shade asked, his confusion doubling. Oma rolled her eyes at him as if he was the stupidest thing she had ever seen. Her hand was still on his arm, and she tugged him gently toward her own room. She gave him a light push toward the table once they were inside, and shut the door behind them. “I am an Empath, not a mind mage. I tell you, she is upset and it centers around you, but I don’t know why. Just as I can tell you, she has nightmares almost every night, but I cannot tell you what they are about.” Oma spoke with such patience that Shade began to be
lieve he actually was the stupidest thing she had seen.
“She’s never mentioned nightmares to me, and we talk daily,” he offered lamely.
Oma sat down across from him and gave him a dead pan stare. “And why would she? She is not the sort to want sympathy or coddling,” she answered with the same patience.
Shade nodded slowly and tried to think why she would be mad at him. The most obvious answer was the betrothal. He should have told her by now, but he had been avoiding it. It wasn’t as though they had done anything improper. They were friends, and that was it, but still rumors would have flown by now. He sighed.
“How bad is it, Oma?” He asked finally.
Oma seemed to consider the answer before she spoke. “I’m surprised she is still here,” she said finally. She gave a shrug. “If you handle this well, perhaps you can fix things. I would let her sleep as long as she likes, though. A well-rested mind is much more rational.”
Shade frowned at her words and fidgeted in his seat. “Let’s play tiles then, I’ll need something to focus on to keep me from going mad until she wakes,” he said. With long practiced ease, he began setting the tiles up on the table in a very complex pattern. Oma was a skilled player and he needed the game to be a tough one so it would actually distract him.
They had played three games, and the evening had darkened to full night, before Shade finally admitted she was going to sleep until morning. It was a good thing he knew that, but still it didn’t make the waiting any easier. He could barely stomach the idea of Jala being angry with him. He wasn’t exactly spoiled for friends, and the ones he trusted completely, he could count on one hand. Jala was perhaps the best person he knew. In his theory of grey, he would put her nearly white. He couldn’t think of another person he knew that would qualify for that. He rubbed his face, and fought back the urge to wake her once again. Tiles no longer worked. He had to occupy himself better.
He stood slowly and stretched before looking down at Oma. “I’m going out quietly tonight. It’s been a while since I have,” he announced quietly. Actually, I haven’t gone out quietly since Jala arrived, he realized once he had spoken.
Oma was watching him with a disapproving silence, giving the slightest shake to her head to indicate she didn’t agree with this plan at all.
“I won’t be sleeping tonight, Oma, and Jala needs to. I’ll be back before morning, and we will talk then,” he said with a tone that showed his mind was set.
“If you must go, be back by early morning, preferably before the sun rises,” she ordered gently.
He gave her a nod of agreement and headed to his own rooms. He began stripping out of the fine clothes the moment the door shut behind him. He threw open his closet door with a bit too much force and dug to the bottom of his trunk, scattering clothes. His hands brushed across the soft leather buried there, and he pulled it out. Worn, scarred, and battered, the leather armor was far from anything one would expect Christian Morcaillo to wear. He pulled on the under padding then laced the deep grey armor on quickly. With practiced ease, he fastened on a belt with several pouches, and secured half a dozen knives about him.
As silent as a shadow, he slipped from the window and up to the Academy roof. He scanned the area to make sure no one below had noticed him. With a satisfied nod, he moved farther back into the shadows and called on his birthright. His body began to shift, slowly at first and then rapidly as his mind made the demand more clear. His size shrank, his limbs changed, and his leather armor and gear changed with him, all absorbing into this new, smaller, lighter body. Where a man had stood moments before a small owl now perched. He ruffled his feathers a bit and looked himself over. Without hesitating, he pushed into the air and flew toward the rougher parts of Sanctuary.
He would become someone else there tonight. He would shift his form to one seldom used and become no one of importance. In those rough parts of the city, they knew him as Chris who had no father to please, no one to impress, and no lands to govern. He was a simple street rat, a rogue when he needed to be, but otherwise no different from the other commons. In those parts of the city, no one cared what he did as long as he left them out of it. The best part was, there was no way anyone would ever link Chris to Christian, unless he told them. The rogue was rougher of looks as well as manners. It was quite simply another life. The Changeling blood was innate, and the change would not show as magical. It was natural for them, and the reason they were nearly extinct. A true Changeling could be anything, anywhere, and it terrified people to know that there was a creature that could imitate them so completely that even their own mothers could not tell the difference. It was too much for most, so his family pretended to be something else. The Morcaillo’s were well honed at keeping secrets. He felt a bit of disgust at the thought and flew on toward his own personal secret. This one at least wouldn’t hurt anyone. It was just his way of feeling what a normal life was like. A few pints with his friends there and some time soaking in the shadows of the city and he would be ready to face the world as Christian the Shade once more.
Dim lanterns swung lazily outside the Pauper’s Pint, and the alleys to either side of the drinking house were as black as ink. The faint sound of a woman gasping echoed quietly from the alley accompanied by the steady grunting of a man. Shade eyed the garbage that spilled from the alley onto the street, and tried not to imagine what sort of whore would turn her tricks in the blackest of alleys. The porch of the tavern was empty tonight. That in itself was unusual. He took the two steps as one and pushed his way inside. With luck, he would find the Ravens here tonight. The small gang of thieves was the closest he had to friends in this persona.
The taproom was nearly empty, where, on an average night, this place was bustling. Shade eyed the empty, scarred tables and looked around the rest of the taproom. Sadie stood on the other side of the bar watching him as he entered. The buxom woman was normally all smiles and flirtations. Tonight, however, she simply watched him, her hands busy at cleaning a mug. He saw her swallow heavily as her eyes glanced to a corner booth. He could tell someone was sitting there, but he wasn’t at the right angle to see who. Shade looked back to Sadie and noted how pale the woman was. He cursed silently. It would seem his other life had poured over to spoil this fantasy. From the way she looked at him, he had no doubts that this trouble had come calling for him. He let out a long breath and moved silently forward, diagonal from the door, until he could see into the booth and get a decent look at its occupant.
The figure wore a long dark grey cloak with its hood pulled forward shrouding his face from sight. If it was a he, Shade reasoned. The figure’s posture was bent slightly over the table with elbows resting to either side. They held a battered mug in one hand, and he watched as the figure took a drink. From the way the cloak draped, and the gloved hands, he could see nothing to give him an indication of who was waiting on him.
“If you like we can talk across this distance, Shade, but I’d prefer a quieter word. I’m afraid I’ll have to kill the woman if she overhears too much,” a familiar voice called to him. Though loud enough to be heard across the room, the speaker had a knack for making every word seem a whisper. His voice was soft as silk and cold as ice. It was a voice one didn’t forget, partly from the tones of it, but mostly because it belonged to Hemlock, the leader of Sanctuary’s Assassins guild.
Shade moved quietly to the table. He had relaxed a bit when he heard the voice. It wasn’t that Hemlock was a friend, or that he trusted the man. It was the simple fact if Hemlock had a contract to kill him, Shade would never have known he was there. He took a seat opposite Hemlock and raised an eyebrow at the man. No one should have known him in this form. His hair was different, he appeared older, he had scars, and more importantly, he looked mortal and showed no trace of Elder Blood. The fact that Hemlock had known him did not surprise him at all, though. A man like Hemlock had to know everything or he didn’t last long. “So, what is it you wish to speak of, Hemlock?” Shade asked, his voice soft.
&n
bsp; “Your new kitten, actually,” Hemlock replied in his cold dead voice. He sat the mug down between them and pushed it slightly toward Shade. “Beer?” He offered.
Shade eyed the glass for a bare second before shaking his head in refusal. It was rumored Hemlock added his namesake to everything he drank or ate. As far as Shade was concerned, that could remain a rumor. He had no desire to seek the truth of it.
Hemlock gave a mirthless chuckle and pulled the mug back over to rest in front of him. “Suit yourself,” he said quietly.
“Why do you wish to know about Jala?” Shade asked. He tried to keep the concern out of his voice. It would never do to have a man like Hemlock knowing how much the girl meant to him. He had barely known her three months. If he played his cards right, it would be reasonable for others to accept she meant little to him.
“Because others want her dead and I want to know what I’m killing before I kill it,” Hemlock answered in a tone that suggested he might have been commenting on the price of salt.
Shade kept his face a blank mask. “That would inconvenience me, Hemlock, because she is under the protection of my house, and to have her die in my care would look quite bad on my part,” he returned, his voice equally uncaring. There were times when he thought lying was the best honed skill of all of the High Lords. His acting right now was proving that thought quite accurately.
“You really are quite good,” Hemlock said after a moment. “Your eyes don’t dilate, you don’t sweat. You are a very good liar, Shade. I dare say it would upset you a great deal, no matter how uncaring you act.”
The Elder Blood Chronicles Bk 1 In Shades of Grey Page 21