Entwined Paths (Swift Shadows Book 2)

by M. L. Greye

  She’d wanted to knock him off his feet, but because he’d made them both the center of attention and had caught her completely off guard while sitting on a palanquin, she’d had to settle with simply glaring at him.

  “I’II miss you, Emry,” Trez had said as the black-eyed women lifted her into the air. “You’re the night to my day.”

  Emry had tried to shoot fire from her eyes. “One day I’ll repay you for all you’ve done for me.”

  His golden eyes had sparkled in the sunlight. “I will count the days until we are reunited.”

  “As will I.” She’d sneered.

  Or, had tried to as best she could with her flushed face. She must had failed miserably, though. Her last glance of Trez had been him grinning like a cat with a cornered mouse. Her father and his advisor had questioned her about Trez immediately after they’d boarded their ship.

  Throughout her interrogation, Emry plotted Trezim’s future demise at her hands the next time she saw him. She’d settled on hitting him over the head with his own staff and pushing him into a fountain right after.

  The problem was that she missed Trez. Already. Immensely. She hadn’t gone this long without seeing him in half a year. In those moments when she was being honest with herself, she’d enjoyed kissing him. It’d been exciting while it lasted. She just wished he’d been brave enough to do it before she literally had to go. Maybe she would have liked to have kissed him longer. She’d never know, though, because he’d picked the absolute worst time to explore beyond their friendship.

  Emry sighed and swore in her head. She’d been silently swearing at Trez a lot the past couple weeks. He deserved every word of it.

  “There it is,” Onyx said, bringing her attention around. His head was tilted toward one of the carriage’s windows, bronze eyes gazing outside.

  She twisted in her seat to get a better view. Just the green copper roof was visible through the trees. A moment more and they would round the curve, putting the palace fully in sight.

  “Home,” she breathed.

  It was her home. Enlennd was her home. She’d missed its thick forests and mountains and cool, crisp air. Heerth would forever hold a place in her heart, but Enlennd would always be her first love.

  Onyx smiled warmly at her. “Welcome back, Emerald.”

  Joy bubbled up within her as they rounded that last bend in the road and the palace rose up before her. She couldn’t hide her own grin. There, in the front courtyard, was a line of servants waiting for the return of their dear princess – all attired in the silver and black livery of Enlennd.

  There was Citrine, standing in front of the massive front doors. She was dressed in a day gown of sage green, her long, black hair braided in one swooping braid from one side of her head to the other and back again, hanging over her shoulder. Emry knew the moment Cit saw them because she began to wave vigorously – her hand high above her head.

  The carriage pulled to a stop across from Cit, and Emry didn’t wait for a runner to open the door. She shoved it open and jumped the short drop down. Cit was already running. She crashed into Emry – flinging her arms around Emry’s shoulders.

  Emry held onto her sister tightly for at least a minute – her own arms wrapped across Cit’s back. When Citrine’s grip began to loosen, Emry pulled back a little. There were tears in her sister’s eyes. She smiled. “Hello, Cit.”

  “I’m so glad you’re back.” Cit wiped at her eyes with one hand and let out a grunt. “Don’t ever go away again. A year was far too long.”

  “We’ve been a part before – for months at a time, even.” Emry laughed and squeezed her sister again. It felt so good to be near her. She’d forced herself to keep busy in Heerth – to avoid feeling homesick or missing her family too much.

  “Months do not equate a full year,” Cit retorted into Emry’s ear. “Have you grown taller?”

  “No.” Emry nearly snorted. “But you have.”

  “Girls,” a hand pressed against Emry’s upper back as her father came up alongside her. “Shall we take this inside?”

  Emry finally released her hold on Cit and stepped back. “I can’t wait to hear everything you’ve done this year,” Emry said, grasping onto her skirts with one hand as she began up the few steps to the front doors.

  Cit loosed a startled laugh. “Me? You’re the one who’s been off exploring the world. I want to hear what you’ve been doing. I have so many questions.”

  “Ask away.” Emry grinned.

  :::::

  Emry had returned home over a week ago. Since that first day back, she’d discovered her year abroad had finally convinced her father’s advisors she was ready to become more involved with Enlennd. It was very exciting until she learned what that meant to them. She was to have afternoon tea.

  Apparently, her year infiltrating Heerth wasn’t worth much at all to the people running her country. Because all they assumed she would be good for was to entertain ambassadors, courtiers, or whichever visiting lord and lady from whatever region was at the palace over tea and biscuits. However, she was only to occupy their time while Onyx and his advisors were too busy to sit with them.

  She was to act as backup entertainment. Her and Cit both.

  They’d each take their tea with whomever the advisors deemed fit that day. They were to be docile little puppets furthering the political agendas of those power-grasping old men. It absolutely infuriated Emry. She’d thought her year away had proved herself adept enough to become more involved with the policies of her future people. She’d learned an entirely new language and culture for the opportunity to finally be admitted to some sort of political meeting. But no. Instead, she was to babysit.

  During all those months in Heerth, she’d honestly expected to be seen as a valuable political figure when she returned home. Clearly, she’d been an idiot. An absolute imbecile. Because all anyone in Enlennd saw her as was finally polite enough to keep visitors from boredom.

  Emry was so distractedly furious with her life that the doe-eyed, stuttering daughter of a Mid Lord had had to ask her twice if she’d ever been to Pritchl. Emry had responded to the girl – who couldn’t have been much younger than herself but acted like she was barely out of the nursery – that she had not been.

  Pritchl was the largest city in the Midlands, and Emry had seen alarmingly little of her own country. She’d seen more of Heerth.

  It was another topic that annoyed Emry – revealed her own forced shortcomings as the future sovereign. The girl’s question was a reminder of her own inadequacy, which had only furthered Emry’s bitter mood.

  Silence currently filled the lavender themed parlor. Emry hadn’t even gotten the good parlor today. Citrine had claimed the calming blue-painted one, leaving Emry with the suffocating purple one.

  The little Mid’s teacup rattled against her saucer in her lap. It was almost deafening and the poor corn-colored haired girl jumped. “Apologies, dearest princess,” she murmured, her gaze on her obnoxiously loud hands.

  Emry winced at the title she’d forgotten she loathed. Somewhere in the back of her mind she knew she was taking out her frustration on the girl, who probably wanted to be here as little as she did. Transference. That was what she was doing. Her actions were bound to leave a lasting horrid impression.

  Holding back a sigh, Emry sought out that cold darkness she kept deep within herself, trying to mollify her agitation. Carefully. Taking just enough to soothe her sullenness. If she beckoned too much, she was sure she’d lose her grasp on her control and fill the whole room in shadow. Taking a deep breath, Emry pushed away the frown on her face, for something that hopefully resembled a smile.

  She noticed the Mid’s purple eyes matched the walls of the room and the settee she sat on. The pale pink muslin day gown she wore seemed to blend into the room’s theme as well. Different from Emry’s lively aquamarine colored gown.

  “Have you seen the palace gardens yet?” Emry asked after clearing her throat and causing another startled jerk fro
m the young Mid.

  Tanya. That was her name. Right? At least, Tanya sounded right…

  “Yes, they’re very bright and dry.” Tanya nodded once, still not lifting her eyes from her hands.

  “Bright and dry?” Emry blurted the words before thinking them through. She’d never heard anyone describe any part of Enn that way. Acoba, yes, but not the Enlennd palace gardens.

  The Mid flushed. “I’m sorry. I- I didn’t- I mean, I wasn’t trying to imply-”

  Emry waved a hand at her with a shake of her head. “I’m not offended.”

  Tanya’s shoulders caved in a little with relief. “Forgive me, dearest princess.”

  “I’m not offended,” she repeated. “I’m just curious. What do you mean? What are the gardens like in Pritchl?”

  The question seemed to catch the girl off guard. Enough that she stared at Emry open-mouthed for a moment. Or maybe she was sorting through the words in her head to say the politest thing she could think of. But Emry waited. She was genuinely interested.

  “We don’t have gardens,” Tanya finally said. “We have farmland. We tend crops and orchards, but not in an ornamental way. If we wish to take a walk in the fresh air, we wander through our vineyards. As for parties and dances, those are hosted out in the front yard space.”

  It was the most coherent statement Emry had heard from her, but also the most insulting. Not because of the way Tanya said it. No, the girl had been very polite in her explanation.

  What bothered Emry was why Tanya had acted so surprised. It was because to Tanya, this was clearly common knowledge. But for Emry to not know that detail of a region she was the princess of – that was what startled Tanya. There was a disconnect.

  Once again Emry was ashamed. She should know what each region was like. What their customs were like. How they spoke to one another. What sort of dishes were common … Emry had spent a year studying Heerth, but what of her own country? The one she was to inherit. To lead.

  “Thank you, Tanya.” Emry meant it, despite her own humiliation. “It sounds lovely.”

  As the girl went back to sipping her tea, Emry realized she couldn’t stay in Enn. Even though Cit wished her stay, she had more traveling to do if she were to become the queen Enlennd deserved. She needed to speak with her father.

  It took a week for her to fully formulate the words she wanted to say to him. She was going to petition him to allow her to travel to the various regions of Enlennd. For months at a time – so that she could better understand her people. Her father had trusted her to go to Heerth, and it was a somewhat unofficial tradition for Jewel children to tour the regions. Emry didn’t doubt her father’s approval. It was the timeline that concerned her.

  Emry had been home for less than three weeks. The most she’d done with her shadow blades was swing them around the roof of the palace. At night and all alone. She had yet to find the Turanga tavern Trez had told her about, despite taking two shopping trips into Breccan in search of them. Emry could almost feel her body growing soft again. She needed to keep up her strength, her practice. But her freedom in Enn was so limited. Which was why she needed to get away from it – to see the world again.

  Cit wouldn’t be pleased. In truth, Emry would be sad to leave her behind. It didn’t have to be that way – Cit could go with her. Yet, Citrine would never agree to it. Ever since she’d almost died years ago, she refused to travel, demanding to be near a medic at all times. Emry wasn’t sure which was more ridiculous – Cit becoming so much an Enn that she called Rubys medics, or that Emry still didn’t have the courage to tell her sister the truth.

  A Ruby hadn’t cured Cit last time, Emry had – with the life of their mother. Emry felt like a coward every time Cit refused to leave the palace for more than a day. The ironic part was that if Cit was so utterly set on being near the abilities that saved her life, then by her own logic, she should never leave Emry’s side.

  It wasn’t really the time, though, for Emry to be musing over Cit’s fears. She’d reached the path leading up to the palace’s menagerie. Her father was inside with his animals. It was his study of a sort. The king of Heerth had one within the walls of his palace, but he was a Gold, not a Bronze, like Onyx was. He was also a very different sort of king than her father.

  Emry reached the heavy, dark wood door and twisted its knob. “Father,” she called out in greeting as she stepped inside.

  The menagerie was more like an enormous, ornate barn. Its walls were panels of rich, cherry-colored wood that extended high above her head. Tall, frosted windows lined the entire length on both of the longer walls, filling the space with bright light. The floor was paved in gray brick, laid in a chevron pattern. There were no stalls. Instead, pallets of hay were strewn across the edges of the menagerie – against its walls – for the animals to rest on and to eat. In the dead center of the barn was a long metal basin that had been turned into a fountain of sorts with several bubblers spread throughout it. The basin was a glorified trough.

  Onyx crouched beside it – one hand on its edge, the other draped across the back of a gray-brown wolf. At her voice, he rose to his feet and offered her a smile. “Hello, Emerald.”

  She made her way to him, edging around a handful of nearly-grown wolf pups that had run up to circle and sniff her. Their snouts came to her hips when they tilted their heads up toward her. Off to her left, a lioness glared at her from where she lounged, and to her right, a crane stretched out its wings.

  The menagerie probably should have frightened her, but her father was a strong Bronze. His animals were obedient. They would never harm her. The place probably should have reeked, too. Yet, every time she visited, it smelled of eucalyptus and a hint of mint. She wasn’t sure why. It had to be the workings of some green-eyed servant. Some Greens dealt with the control of scents.

  “Good morning, Father,” she greeted, stepping over a wandering possum.

  “I’m glad you’ve come,” he replied, scratching his wolf friend on its head, as he would have done with a dog. “I have someone to show you.”

  Emry blinked. “You do?”

  “Yes, he came today.” Onyx glanced over his shoulder and waved a hand behind him, summoning whatever it was.

  The fully-grown, gray-brown wolf walked away, and Emry took its place beside her father. Just as a brilliantly colored bird sauntered toward them.

  “A peacock?” Emry gasped. “Where did you find a peacock?”

  As if he understood they were speaking of him, the peacock fanned out his lustrous feathers. Emry grinned at the teal, purple, and lighter blues. “What’s his name?” She asked.

  “He says he doesn’t have a name,” Onyx answered. “He’s still fairly young, but he would like a name.”

  “What do you have in mind for him?” Emry couldn’t take her eyes off of the bird. She’d missed the sight of his kind.

  “It isn’t my place to name him,” her father returned. “As he belongs to you, and peacocks are very proud creatures who value their status with their masters, you must be the one to name him.”

  “He’s mine?” Emry tossed a glance at Onyx, surprised.

  “That is what the courier who delivered him said.” Onyx pressed his lips together in a thin line. “All the way from Heerth.”

  Emry whirled. “What?”

  “The third prince of Heerth has sent him to you as a gift to remember him by.” Onyx frowned. “He also said that a mate for your peacock will be brought to you in six months when he is to visit Enlennd for his younger brother’s wedding – to our Lady Nathilie. He will bring you another bird because, in his own words, ‘a male should never be left alone.’”

  She almost swore out loud. She had to bite her tongue to keep the words from coming out. What had possessed Trez to send such a blatant show of affection so soon after the goodbye display he’d dragged her through?

  What game was he playing? Wait, had her father said… “What wedding?”

  Onyx’s frown seemed to deepen at her response. �
��Prince Nakomis has formed an alliance with Lady Nathilie from our own Court. They will be wed here in Breccan in six months’ time. Apparently, the third prince will be joining us.”

  “Trez will be coming here?” Emry couldn’t disguise the sudden burst of joy in her voice. Despite the nuisance of him sending her a live peacock, she missed him. Dearly. He was her closest friend. But honestly, what did he think she would do with a bird?

  “It appears so,” Onyx said slowly.

  “Fascinating.” Emry glanced down at the still strutting peacock, avoiding her father’s gaze. “I think I’ll name him Zyntar, in honor of Heerth.”

  Her father turned to the bird at their feet. “Does Zyntar suit you?”

  The peacock shook his fan of feathers and headed away. Onyx chuckled. “He accepts your name.”

  For the hundredth time, Emry wondered what it would have been like if she’d inherited her father’s eyes like Ewan had, instead of her mother’s. She doubted she’d be the same person. Her abilities had helped shape her over the years – had defined moments of her life.

  “Father, I wish to see more of Enlennd,” she said quietly. “I need to get to know our people. Our culture.”

  Onyx loosed his breath in one long gust. “I’d figured you would.”

  “You did?” Emry stared at him.

  “I thought a year in Heerth might make you hungry to visit more of your own country,” he admitted. “Especially since it’s somewhat expected of you and your sister.”

  Emry forced her hands to be still at her sides, rather than folding them across her chest. She reminded her back to stay straight, instead of dipping into the stance she’d learned from Sabine. “You’ve been planning on me leaving. Does that mean you have an idea of where I should go first?”

  “You will not be returning to Anexia.” Onyx shot her a sharp look. “You may visit the other regions, but not Anexia.”