The Shadow Cats (fire and thorns )

by Rae Carson

  No rescue is forthcoming. It will be up to me to save us all.

  9

  “LUPITA, you must help me,” I say. “I need you to bind up my ankle as tight as possible.”

  “How?” she whispers.

  I start untying the stays on either side of my stiff leather vest. “With this. Here, help me get it off.”

  Her fingers are more nimble than mine, and her hands shake less. In a few moments, we have it off and the two pieces separated. The front piece is shaped oddly, the rawhide sculpted to my curves, but it has a little more flexibility than the back.

  Outside, the Perditos argue loudly. I feel a desperate need to hurry, even if I don’t know my next step.

  “Now the sleeves of my shirt,” I say. They are also held on with laces. I wince when Lupita’s efforts scrape at my injured shoulder and breathe relief when she’s done pulling the sleeves off my arms. I tie them together and wrap them crosswise around my ankle. I need three times their length, but it will have to do.

  I grab the front half of my vest. “We need to roll this up. Leather armor is not very flexible, so you’ll have to press hard.” I show her what I mean and hand it to her. “We’ll wrap it around my lower leg, as low as we can and as tight as we can, and then we’ll tie it in place. Can you do that?”

  “Yes—”

  A scream of anguish echoes from below. Lupita’s gaze darts outside; then she twitches toward the deeper part of the cave. She is confused, frightened, ready to go in every direction at once.

  “Right here, stay with me, Lupita. I need you to be strong for me. Are you ready?”

  Telling someone else to be strong is exactly what I need. When she nods, courage fills my own chest.

  I unroll the vest just enough to slip it over my ankle, stifling a groan of pain. I take a deep breath. “Ready, Lupita? Make it as tight as you can. Don’t be afraid to hurt me.”

  She presses down on the vest piece, rolling as she goes. “Harder,” I tell her between gritted teeth. “Tighter.”

  When it’s as tight as I can bear, I wrap the laces from my vest around it and knot them. I test the brace by pressing my foot against the cave wall. The pain is not nearly as bad as when the ankle was flopping uselessly.

  The brace will do little to support it, but I hope it will shore up the exhausted muscles and tendons holding it in place. Maybe, just maybe, I’ll be able to walk on it a little.

  Lupita and I crawl back to the lip of the cave and peek outside, careful to keep our faces in the shadows. I wish we had not.

  I cover the girl’s mouth, but only to keep myself from screaming. Zito is on his knees, his arms bound behind him. One man holds him by the hair. Another places an arrow, its iron tip glowing red, against his blistering, blackening cheek. A bloody hole in his face marks the spot where Zito’s right eye used to be.

  The Perdito shifts the arrow tip to beneath his remaining eye.

  “Who was with you, and where have they gone?” the Perdito says.

  “It was the queen of Orovalle,” Zito answers, laughing. “And she is a hawk, soaring above all of you.”

  The bandit presses the glowing arrowhead into Zito’s cheek, and blood runs down his chin as he screams. Tears stream down my face.

  “Look away, Lupita,” I say. Her eyes are wide, and her shoulders shake. I turn her head against my chest and pull her close, then bury my face in her hair. “You should not see this.”

  “She is a horse no man can catch, galloping across the desert,” Zito says. “She is—” He screams again.

  “Pack everything up, we move out now,” the Perdito says.

  “Cut his throat,” comes the animagus’ slippery voice, and his preternatural calm is more chilling than all the rage in the world.

  “Do it yourself, Chato,” the Perdito leader answers. “Use him to work your blood magic. But someone was with him, so I suggest you make quick work of it before Paxón’s men hunt us down.”

  I dare to peek from the cave’s entrance. The Perdito gestures to the others to leave.

  The animagus hisses, catlike, and the sound is so wild and inhuman that I shrink against the rock wall at my back. “The leash holding back the spring must be renewed daily,” he says. “All our work is wasted if we leave now. The land will heal itself quickly.”

  “And all our work is wasted if we’re dead,” the Perdito says. Then he and his men melt into the jungle, opposite the direction of Khelia Castle.

  The animagus glares after them a moment, then prods Zito with the end of his staff. My steward groans and twitches, and relief fills me.

  I scramble backward, dragging Lupita with me. “Are you sneaky?” I whisper. “Are you fast?”

  “Yes,” she answers uncertainly.

  “Espiritu is dead, and the bad men have gone away, all but that one. We cannot let him escape. I need you to run back to the castle and tell everyone.”

  She shakes her head. I understand her fear, but she must do this. I reach for her arm and give what I hope is a reassuring squeeze.

  “You can sneak down on the shadowed side, hiding between the rocks. And then you must race back to the castle and tell your tía Calla everything.”

  “I’m scared.”

  “Of course you are. So am I. And Lady Calla is scared for you too. And your grandmother and grandfather. But I cannot run back to the castle, not with my ankle. You’re the only one who can do this. You must save your aunt by warning her about the Perditos.”

  I should hate myself for manipulating her this way, but I don’t. I watch carefully as the fear on her face transmutes into something else. It’s that same steely look Elisa gets when I’m about to scold her.

  Not sullenness, I understand suddenly. Bravery.

  Together we crawl to the lip of the cave. Zito sits in the center of the meadow, curled up on himself, panting. Around him, the animagus traces lines in the earth with the glowing end of his staff, a task that requires all his focus. I nod at Lupita and push her out of the cave. She freezes for just an instant, then turns and slips over the boulders as quietly as the moonrise.

  I watch her go, ready to leap out after her if the animagus notices her, but she disappears into the jungle. I exhale relief, but it is short-lived. The animagus circles Zito as if in a trance, chanting as he drags his staff through the lines he drew, over and over again. They begin to glow with bluish light, and I feel sickness rise like a miasma from the earth. When it is done, I will have lost my chance to save my steward, however small it might be. My heart kicks in my chest.

  I ease out from the cave and crouch among the boulders. My fingers close on a rock, the only weapon at hand. My ankle screams at me to stop, but I creep forward over the rocks as quickly and as quietly as I can. Gravel clatters down the slope. Surely he will hear. Surely he will look up.

  I am not quick enough. The chant slows. The light in the animagus’ staff blinks out. The glowing lines fade.

  I’ve reached the meadow, but I’m too far away as he puts the knife to Zito’s throat. I burst into a sprint, every stride an arrow of torment up my leg. But I will not falter. I will not fail.

  The animagus whirls, eyes wide. He raises both staff and knife to defend himself.

  I scream like the jaguar, raw and anguished, like a predator that will not be denied, and he freezes for the merest instance.

  I leap and smash the rock across his head.

  He falls, and I fall on top of him. I pound his head, feeling the bones crack underneath, until red and gray splash with each blow. I toss the bloody rock away, and grab the staff from his still-tight grip. I snap it across my knee, and throw the pieces into the underbrush.

  Gasping, I hold my hands up to the light, shocked at the torrent of violence that flowed so easily from them. My knuckles bleed, and my right palm is scraped raw. I look down at the animagus’ broken form, sickened at the mess I have made. And I watch, half in terror, half in relief, as his body shrivels before my eyes, like a piece of fruit left too long in the su
n.

  All the sickness and decay that flowed out of his ritual moments ago rushes back like a tide, flowing over and around me, until I am swimming in it. I fall to my hands and knees and vomit long past the time my stomach is empty.

  The sickness fades, like mist dissipating in the warming sun, leaving the scents of rich soil and moist bark and morning glory blooms. They are good scents. Clean scents.

  “Zito,” I say, crawling toward him because I cannot stand. “Zito.”

  “Alodia! What happened?” He turns his face to me, but the angle is not quite right, like he’s looking at someone behind me.

  I reach for his tied wrists. “Stop moving so I can untie you.”

  “Alodia,” he whispers. “Just let me die.”

  “We’re going back to the castle.” His bonds are soaked in blood. My fingers fumble as I work the slimy knots.

  “Without my eyes, what am I? Even less of a man than I was before.”

  I want to slap sense into him, but I am done hitting things today. Tears roll from my eyes. “Idiot. None of my guards are half the man you are. I can’t make it without you.”

  “Alodia—”

  “Shut up.” My hands are shaking hard, but I finally untie the knots that bind his hands. “You’re my best friend, Zito, and I need you.”

  “You don’t need anyone,” he says, rubbing his wrists.

  “I need you,” I repeat, wiping my nose on my bare arm. But such a declaration is too raw for me, no matter how true, so I add, “I can’t walk on my own. I need you to lean on. Once we get back to the castle, you can crawl off and die.” I find his spear on the ground and thrust it toward him. “So stop whining and get on your damn feet.”

  I can’t tell if he’s laughing or choking, and I don’t care. He leverages himself up, then runs his hands along the length of his spear, as if getting to know it all over again.

  He holds out his arm. “I can’t see the way, Alodia,” he says. “I suppose we need each other right now.”

  Half a dozen inappropriate replies jump to the tip of my tongue, but I keep my mouth firmly closed. We link arms and hobble back the way we came.

  10

  WE are nearly to the castle when something rustles through the underbrush ahead. I hear footsteps, and I’m about to yank Zito into a hollow of ferns when I also hear the creak of armor. The Perditos don’t wear armor.

  “Lupita?” I whisper.

  Figures barrel down the deer path—four of my guards, Lupita, Nurse Ximena, and to my absolute shock, my little sister. Elisa’s hair is full of dirt and leaves, her cheeks are flushed, and the hem of her gown is thick with mud, but she plows forward, her face set stubbornly. She holds a knife in her hand. A kitchen knife, I note with no small amount of amusement. What she thinks she’ll do with it, I’ve no idea. When she sees me, her features melt into relief.

  “What are you doing here?” I ask, and it comes out sharper than I intend.

  It stops her cold. “I . . . well . . . I heard you leave last night. But then you didn’t come back, and Zito was gone too. . . . And the cat screamed, so I fetched the guards, and then we found Lupita, and . . .” Something in my face makes her pause, and her own features harden in response. “I was worried for Zito. I know you can take care of yourself.”

  Lupita weaves through the guards toward me, then wraps my legs in a great hug, squeezing tight. I pat her head absently. “But why are you here? Why not send Khelia’s guards?” How could she risk herself like this? She’s the farthest thing from a warrior I’ve ever known. Of all the stupid . . . My anger dissolves. No, my sister has never been stupid.

  “You left in secret,” she whispers, fully cowed. “So, I knew you had a plan. You always have a plan. And I knew you would be so irritated with me if I spoiled it by telling everyone.”

  I stare at her, dismayed, because she is exactly right. “Elisa, I’m s—”

  Zito places a silencing hand on my shoulder, probably thinking I’m about to scold her as usual. “Thank you for coming, Highness,” he says. “And for bringing aid. It was quick thinking and brave.”

  Elisa gasps, as if seeing him for the first time. “Oh, my God,” she says.

  If she is just now noticing the blood dripping from his ruined eyes and the burn marks on his cheeks, then her only thought when undertaking this ridiculous rescue was for me. She truly thought she was rescuing me.

  “We need to get Zito to the castle,” I say, and my voice is gentler with her than it has been in a long time. “I’m worried about infection.”

  “Of course,” she says. And my weak, lazy, selfish sister clamps the silly kitchen knife between her teeth, hitches up her sleeves, and lodges herself under Zito’s other arm. “Big rock just ahead, Zito,” she says. “You’ll have to step high.”

  A guard takes my spot beneath Zito’s other arm, and I follow behind, aided by Lupita. As we shuffle back to the castle in the least royal, most awkward procession of my life, I stare at my sister’s back. By not involving Khelia’s or Isodel’s soldiers, she has salvaged my plan.

  Espiritu is dead. The blight on the land will fade soon enough. And no one will be able to deny that it was the crown princess and her people who made it happen.

  11

  THE wedding is delayed for two weeks to give Zito and me some time to recover. Within days, the land begins to bloom again, like new growth forest after a cleansing fire. People call it a miracle.

  I do not correct them. I haven’t decided what to do with my knowledge that the Perditos have allied with Invierne, that magic was used to sicken our land. I say only that Zito and I rescued each other from bandits, that we killed Espiritu and scattered the Perditos. I order my guards to spread the idea that maybe the Perditos were the ones causing God’s wrath, that the land heals itself because we chased them away.

  When Conde Paxón presents Zito with a new spear—sturdier than his old one and carved with swirling jungle vines—I remember the animagus’ broken staff. I’m sure Father Donatzine at the Monastery-at-Amalur would love to study such a talisman. If nothing else, the jewel on the end of it might be of value. But my ankle is too fragile to retrieve it myself, and I’m not sure who to send in my place without raising questions I’m unwilling to answer. I decide to let it go. The jungle will claim it soon enough, with creepers and detritus and thick ferns. It will never be found.

  In the days leading to the wedding, Conde Paxón and Lord Jorán share hunting escapades and late-night dessert wines like they’ve been friends for decades. Soldiers from Khelia and Isodel cheerfully practice together in the yard. Lord Jorán even pulls me aside one day and expresses a sincere hope that Isodel will once again come into the fold of Orovalle, that he is prepared to swear himself as my vassal.

  Papá will be proud of everything I have accomplished here.

  But Zito says nothing. He refuses to talk about what happened, even to me.

  The day of the wedding dawns more beautiful than anyone anticipated. Lady Calla is a lovely bride, and Conde Paxón an endearingly nervous mess. After the ceremony, Zito and I are seated on a dais apart from the others, because of our injuries and my station. He wears a red cloth over his eyes, tied at the back of his head. He leans into his new spear, his ear turned to the sounds of celebration.

  “Describe everything to me,” he says.

  Hope sparks inside me at the genuine interest in his voice. Maybe he’s not going to sneak away to die on me after all. I swallow hard and say flippantly, “Oh, it’s a typical wedding. If you’ve seen one, you’ve seen them all. The father of the bride has had too much to drink and dances like an old bear. The groom’s men and the bride’s maids flirt shamelessly with one another, knowing that on this day, they’ll be forgiven anything. The servants linger at the buffet table, sneaking their lord’s food while he pretends not to notice.”

  “And the groom and bride?”

  “He is an old, crippled soldier, past his prime, and she is young and beautiful.”

  Zito’s f
ace freezes. After an awkward silence, I hastily add, “They look deliriously happy. It is a marriage of great affection, maybe even love. Still, I give it a fortnight before they are as glum as any married couple.”

  He doesn’t even crack a smile. “And Elisa? How is your sister?”

  “She and Lupita are inseparable. I’ve offered to foster Lupita, you know, when she is old enough. Lady Calla had raptures when I made the suggestion. It’s funny—Lupita could have any flowers she wants now that they are blooming, but she chose the scarlet hedge nettle. It looks awful.” And wonderful. It really is a good symbol for the people here. Softly, I add, “I have been thinking about Elisa.”

  Zito says nothing, but he turns his blind face to me.

  In a queer twist of fate, my sister is a hero now. The speculation I fed to the guards evolved during the last two weeks. Someone must have wondered if Elisa used the power of her Godstone to chase away the Perditos and heal the land. It’s been such a popular notion that none of her protestations can convince them otherwise.

  I smile to myself. Elisa will forever have the acclaim for something that Zito and I did. And for some reason, I don’t mind at all.

  “Thinking what?” Zito prods at last.

  “Papá has considered giving Elisa away to one of our lesser but wealthy lords to refill our coffers. But maybe she belongs with someone in a position of power. She . . .” For some reason, it’s hard to say. But this is Zito. I can say anything to him. “She has potential, Zito. She will act when forced. And when she sets her mind to something . . . Well, getting her away and on her own might be just what she needs.”

  His features shift slightly, but without his eyes to measure his mood, I’m not sure what it means. I suppose I must get to know my steward all over again. If he stays with me long enough.

  “I’m glad you’ve come to see some worth in her,” he says at last. “The two of you, working together, would be a pair to be reckoned with.”