Shadowspire (Wytch Kings, Book 3)

by Jaye McKenna

  Ambris exchanged a concerned look with Kian, but said only, “You must be hungry. We were just going to toast some bread over the fire and have some cheese and a bit of cold meat with it. We’ve plenty to share if you’re hungry.”

  “I should like that very much,” Jaire said, relieved at the change of subject. He was tired of having to defend his decision to everyone. It made him feel as if they didn’t think he was old enough to decide for himself what he needed to do.

  When he glanced up, he noted that Vayne had returned from his explorations and was lingering near the door. Jaire gave him a brief nod of acknowledgment. The ghost-prince returned his nod solemnly, but Kian followed Jaire’s gaze and frowned, though he said nothing. To head off any awkward questions, Jaire followed Ambris to the fire and started regaling them both with all the news of the castle and its inhabitants.

  * * *

  Vayne divided his time between listening to the conversation within the little cottage and prowling around outside, making sure all was secure. There was no reason to think the Wytch Master would arrive early, but from what he’d managed to glean, it would not do for Faah to set eyes upon Kian or Ambris, and since Jaire was currently under their roof, a potential danger to them was a potential danger to Jaire.

  Was it just the fact that Jaire was the first person he’d spoken to in years that made him feel so protective? He wasn’t certain, but it made sense. Jaire was his only connection to a world he could otherwise only observe, but never participate in. Losing Jaire would mean a return to isolation, and the thought of going back to that world of helpless silence made Vayne feel ill.

  After making certain all was well, Vayne settled in to listen, smiling to himself as Jaire recounted the antics of the castle’s inhabitants. From the conversation, he gathered that Ambris had a long history with both Patra, the castle’s chief housekeeper, and Jorin, Garrik’s guard captain.

  Jaire glanced toward Vayne frequently, a small smile playing about his lips as he spoke. Kian noticed and followed his gaze a few times, but clearly saw nothing. Vayne wasn’t sure if he should be relieved or disappointed about that.

  Pleased as Jaire was to see his friends, it was clear to Vayne that he was doing his best to hide his exhaustion from them. After his first few yawns, Kian exchanged a meaningful look with Ambris and stretched. “It’s been a very long day, Jaire,” he said. “I worked hard at the forge, and Ambris has been busy gathering herbs to dry. I think we’re going to head off to bed. I’ll pull the pallet and some bedding out for you, and you can sleep by the fire. Tomorrow, we’ll get packed up and head for our hideaway. We keep it well-stocked, so it won’t take us long to pack some clothes and a few things. We can be off after breakfast. We don’t really have anywhere to accommodate Star, though. Can you board her at the inn?”

  “She’s there for tonight,” Jaire said, “but one of the guardsmen who came with me is going to lead her back home. Garrik didn’t think it was a good idea to leave any sign of my presence in the village.”

  “You’ve thought of everything,” Kian said with an approving nod. “How will you get home?”

  “Ilya will bring word,” Jaire said. “Or, if I’m needed immediately, Garrik will come and fetch me, and I shall ride home on his back.”

  “And enjoy every moment of it, I’ll warrant,” Ambris said with a smile.

  “I will!” Jaire said, grinning. “Much as I adore Star, I’d trade her for a dragon if I could. Don’t tell her I said that, though.”

  Kian laughed. “I’d better warn Garrik. He might find himself in the stable if he’s not careful!”

  While they got ready for bed, Vayne drifted through the wall to keep an eye on things outside. He circled the cottage twice, then followed the path all the way to the quiet village square. Things were just starting to get foggy as the village well came into view, so he turned around and headed back to the cottage. The amulet Jaire wore made it impossible for him to get lost. It was always there in the back of his mind, a constant, nearly imperceptible tug.

  When Vayne returned to the cottage, Jaire was already snuggled in his bedroll next to the fire. The lamps had been put out, but he could hear Kian and Ambris moving around in the loft overhead.

  “Where did you go off to?” Jaire asked quietly as Vayne settled next to him.

  “I did a quick patrol of the village. I wanted to make sure you weren’t followed.”

  Jaire smiled at him. “That was thoughtful. I really am all right, though. I can take care of myself. I know I don’t look it, but I can.”

  “I believe you,” Vayne said solemnly. “I’d just rather you didn’t have to.”

  “Oh?” Jaire’s smile widened. “Is that because I’m the only one you can talk to? Or because you actually think I’m worth defending?”

  Vayne returned the grin with a teasing one of his own. “I haven’t decided yet. Now settle down, and go to sleep. You were riding all day, and it sounds as if you’ve a long hike ahead of you tomorrow. I’m going off to have another look around so I don’t disturb you.”

  “You sound like a nursemaid.” Jaire scowled fiercely.

  Vayne got to his feet and executed a formal bow. “Nursemaid Vayne, at your service. I specialize in putting brat princes in their place, so we’ll have none of your back talk, Your Highness.”

  Jaire smothered a giggle and waved him away.

  When he was certain the prince had settled down, Vayne drifted out through the front door and then back in upstairs, where he could hear Ambris and Kian murmuring quietly to one another.

  “…Garrik said Ilya was worried,” Kian was saying. “And I swear, I saw him nodding toward the corner, as if he were acknowledging someone. But of course, there was no one there.”

  “He seems perfectly all right to me, Kian. I think you and Garrik are both worrying too much. I saw you checking the currents around him, and I did the same. His mythe-shadow shows no sign of illness. Prince Jaire has a very active imagination — we all know that. And we’ve both seen him talking to himself countless times in the past, when he’s got some new idea in his head.”

  “I suppose so,” Kian said reluctantly. “And if he’s agreed to the betrothal, I imagine he’s probably feeling a bit anxious. He’ll need some time to get used to the idea of marrying.”

  “Most probably,” Ambris agreed.

  “Even so, we should keep an eye on him. Garrik knows exactly what Jaire’s like, and he was worried enough to mention it in his letter.”

  Vayne lingered for a while longer, but the conversation drifted to an accounting of things that would have to be done before they took their leave the next morning. When affectionate kisses turned into gentle touches and quiet murmurs of pleasure, Vayne withdrew.

  He’d have to make more of an effort not to distract Jaire when others were present, difficult as that might be. After having no one but Ashna for all the long, lonely years of his exile, he was desperate for every moment of contact.

  But he had to think of Jaire’s safety. What would become of him if his brother thought he was talking to a man who wasn’t there? Would Jaire be able to convince anyone that Vayne was real? Vayne had no way of proving it. He’d been trying to make someone notice him ever since Ashna had shown him how to reach the human world, but Jaire was the first who’d ever responded to his overtures.

  The thought of Jaire’s family deciding he was mad because of Vayne was almost too much to bear. He would have to be very careful. They both would.

  * * *

  “You just have to walk through the wall,” Kian said, pushing aside a tangle of vines to reveal a rough wall of natural stone.

  From where Jaire stood, it looked as if it was part of the same cliff face that formed the western edge of the valley they’d been following for the last hour or so. He cast Kian a dubious look. “You just want me to smack my nose against the rock.”

  “No, really, that’s the way in,” Ambris said, pushing past him and disappearing through the solid rock. “C
ome on,” he called.

  Jaire reached out to touch the stone, and wasn’t surprised to find that it wasn’t solid at all. He pushed through and emerged in a small, tree-filled canyon.

  Ambris was grinning widely as Jaire joined him. “It’s an illusion. One of Ilya’s better ones. He’s set wards of concealment around it, so nobody’s going to stumble across it. You have to know you’re looking for it to even find the spot where the false wall begins.”

  “And Wytch Master Faah won’t sense it?”

  “Not unless we do something powerful enough to disturb the mythe,” Kian said, coming up behind him.

  “Ilya chose this spot because the canyon is sitting right on top of a vein of mythe-stone,” Ambris added. “He’s using that to power the illusion. And just the presence of that much raw mythe-stone makes enough of a disturbance in the mythe to cover any small things we might do, like calling fire or making light.”

  “What about shifting?” Jaire asked. He never tired of watching Ambris, Ilya, and Garrik shift into dragon form, and was rather hoping Ambris might indulge him with a demonstration once they’d settled in.

  “I’m afraid not,” Kian said. “Ilya was quite emphatic about that. No shifting, no healing. Either would be noisy enough to give us away.”

  “That’s a shame,” Jaire said, trying to hide his disappointment.

  “As soon as we get word that the Wytch Master is gone, I’ll give you a show,” Ambris said. “I promise. In the meantime, we should get inside. I’d like to air the place out before nightfall and get some dinner cooking. We had an early start and a strenuous hike, and I’m sure you’re both as hungry as I am.”

  Jaire followed Ambris and Kian through the trees to a tiny clearing containing a snug little shelter. Kian opened the door to reveal a single room. It held a small hearth, two storage chests, four sturdy chairs and a table, and enough clear space on the floor to sleep six, or possibly eight, if they got cozy. The wall opposite the hearth was lined with shelves containing sacks and jars of supplies.

  Ambris went straight to the hearth. Jaire followed, peering into it and frowning when he saw a pile of stones sitting in the fireplace.

  “What’s this, then?” he asked.

  “Watch,” Ambris said, waving his hand over the stones. Heat emanated from them almost immediately. “Ilya set this up,” Ambris explained. “The stones are tied to the mythe, and it only takes a breath of power to activate them. They’ll stay warm until I cut off their connection to the mythe. And since we’re sitting on top of a source of power already, a Wytch Master would have to be in here with us to notice the power fluctuation. Even then, he might not attribute it to anything unnatural.”

  “It means we don’t have to bother with chopping wood,” Kian added. “And if anyone did stray too close, the smoke from the fire wouldn’t give us away.”

  Jaire nodded. “Very clever. Ilya thought of everything, didn’t he?”

  “He wanted to make sure we stayed well hidden.” Kian began unpacking things and setting them on the shelves. “And if anyone could do so, Ilya could. He kept himself hidden from the Council for years before they finally caught him.”

  “Yes, he did,” Jaire agreed. “I suppose he’d know what was safe and what wasn’t. What shall we do to keep busy for the next few days?”

  “I thought perhaps we could use the time to gather and dry some herbs,” Kian said. “We do need to replenish our supplies. When it gets too dark outside for that, I know Ambris has some rather lurid tales stashed away in one of the chests.”

  Ambris flushed. “I didn’t hear you complaining the last time I read one to you.”

  “Ai, well, you did the voices so well, I was spellbound, wasn’t I?” Kian shot back. “Should have heard him. He does a very convincing old maid impression.”

  “If you can manage to behave yourselves, I might be persuaded to do another performance,” Ambris told them. He turned his grin back on Jaire. “There’s a set of Castles in one of the chests. Perhaps we can play a game after dinner? Kian occasionally indulges me, but he’s not much of a challenge.”

  “That’s because nobody’s ever bothered to explain the rules properly,” Kian grumbled.

  “I’ve only explained them a dozen times,” Ambris pointed out cheerfully. “And I’ve always been careful to use very small words.”

  Jaire laughed. Kian and Ambris had made a running joke of Ambris’s love of Castles and Kian’s aversion to it. “I’d love to play. Garrik doesn’t like it much, either, and Ilya rarely has time.”

  “Excellent!” Ambris looked pleased. “Then I’d best set to and get some dinner made. Jaire, would you mind taking that bucket by the door and filling it from the spring? Just follow the path behind the shelter. There’s a little pool there, and you can scoop the water out with the bucket.”

  Jaire grabbed the bucket and went around the shelter to the path. He found the spring easily enough. It dripped from overhead into a small pool, the water so clear, he could see the sandy bottom as if he were looking through glass. He dipped the bucket in to fill it. When he turned around, Vayne was standing in the middle of the path.

  “Where have you been?” Jaire asked. The ghost-prince had been absent all day, and Jaire had been worried that he might have gotten bored and retreated into the mythe. His hand strayed to the jewel he wore around his neck.

  “You were with Kian and Ambris most of the day,” Vayne said. “I thought it would be best not to show up where you might be tempted to look at me or speak to me.”

  “What, you’re afraid they’ll think I’m mad?” Jaire shook his head. “They already think I’m a bit odd. I don’t see how talking to myself a bit more than usual could make it worse.”

  “It might if word got back to Wytch King Ord, or to the Wytch Council. Both have the power to break the betrothal if they should decide you’re… unsuitable.”

  Jaire rolled his eyes. “Unstable, you mean. It’s all right. I know what they think of me.”

  “I heard Kian and Ambris talking last night,” Vayne said quietly. “They’re worried about you. Your brother mentioned your odd behavior in his letter, and Kian told Ambris he’d noticed you staring off into space and talking to someone who wasn’t there.”

  “You’re probably right,” Jaire conceded, sighing heavily. “But what about you? Won’t you be lonely?”

  “If all goes well, you’ll only be here for a few days,” Vayne said with a gentle smile. “And I’ve been alone a lot longer than that. I’m used to being lonely.”

  “Jaire?” Kian’s voice came from the front of the shelter. “Ambris is waiting for his water.”

  “Just coming, Kian,” Jaire called back. “I was watching a bird drinking at the pool.” He lowered his voice and said to Vayne, “I’ll talk to you later. If nothing else, I’ll slip outside after Kian and Ambris have gone to sleep.”

  * * *

  Jaire stared out the open door of the shelter while he waited for Ambris to take his turn at Castles. Something pale moved in the darkness beyond, and his heart leapt. A shred of fog, or was Vayne hanging about, listening and waiting, longing for the sound of a human voice responding to his own? Jaire hadn’t caught even a glimpse of the ghost-prince since he’d gone to the spring to fill the bucket, but he was certain Vayne was close by, waiting for Kian and Ambris to settle down for the night.

  Used to being lonely, indeed. Vayne was clearly as eager as Jaire to continue their association.

  Jaire wished, suddenly, that he could see the prince properly. Vayne’s wispy form had no color at all, only varying shades of light and dark. His hair was dark, but it was impossible to tell the exact shade, though most of the men of Irilan’s royal line had black hair, same as the men of Altan’s line. What color eyes did Vayne have? Perhaps he could find a portrait in one of the history books… or better yet, hanging on the wall somewhere in Castle Irila. Vayne would probably know if such a thing existed. Jaire wouldn’t mind seeing what he’d looked like in the flesh. He�
��d be very handsome, if his ghostly wraith-form was anything to go by.

  “Jaire?” Ambris’s voice broke into his thoughts, and he dragged his attention back to the game board. “It’s your turn. I’ve just moved my falcons and my foot soldiers.” Ambris pointed out the moves he’d made.

  “Right, sorry. I was just thinking.” Jaire scanned the board, heart sinking as he realized he’d entirely missed the fact that Ambris was slowly but surely cutting off a third of his army. “Oh dear…” He gestured to a group of soldiers that was now almost entirely surrounded.

  “You must be very distracted,” Ambris said. “I wasn’t expecting to get away with that; normally you’d have noticed five moves ago.”

  Jaire studied the board as he considered his options, but it didn’t look like there was any way he’d be able to recover from his mistake. “It looks like I’d better concede,” he said finally. “I don’t think even Master Ilya could turn this mess into a victory.”

  “Probably not,” Ambris said with a grin. He turned to Kian. “Do you see why Jaire decided to concede?”

  “Well, your foot soldiers have him almost surrounded here,” Kian said slowly, pointing to the green area of the grid Ambris had just finished moving his pieces into.

  “Exactly. And now that I’ve split his forces, it will be much easier to overcome them.”

  Another flash of white drifted past the door, and Jaire turned his head to see. Kian followed his gaze and asked, “Did you see something?”

  “Just fireflies, I think,” Jaire lied. He yawned and stretched. “Is it time for bed yet? That long walk up here really tired me out.”

  “Ai, we can get you settled, if you like. Ambris and I can sit on the step outside and talk quietly until we’re ready to sleep.”

  That wasn’t exactly what Jaire had in mind, but he’d admitted to being tired now, so there was nothing for it but to get himself ready for bed.