Entwined Paths (Swift Shadows Book 2)

by M. L. Greye

  “A Trials?” Emry blurted.

  In Enlennd, princesses had to have a Knight sworn to them as protection. It was tradition – a very old tradition. Princesses weren’t permitted to train on how to protect themselves, but they were able to have a Knight attached to them to do the job. Emry had never really been fond of the notion. To make it worse, in order for an Enlennd princess to be deemed ready to marry, she had to have a Knight first.

  It was an obnoxious rule. Nonsensical, really. One that Emry fully intended on changing someday.

  Citrine had always shared a similar opinion with Emry. For her to have requested one instead of it being forced on her…

  “Marry,” Emry repeated when Cit didn’t respond. “You wish to marry? Who? Do you already have someone in mind?”

  “No.” Cit shook her head and smoothed her dress again. “No, I just- I mean, I’m an adult now, and I won’t always be able to live as I have here-”

  “You can live here until you die, for all I care,” Emry retorted, cutting her off. “Don’t give that as a reason. You will always have a home here, or even at the estate in Anexia. Wherever you choose.”

  Citrine dropped her gaze to her hands. “Thanks, Emry. That’s not what I meant, though.” She paused, and Emry decided to wait for the rest. It took her a moment, but finally she went on, “As we continue to grow older, our responsibilities will change. You have been traveling a lot lately, and I understand why. I’m- I’m not upset. I miss you like mad while you’re away, but I get why you must see the regions for yourself. Our lives are going in different directions, as is to be expected. I just … I think I’d like to find someone to share mine with me. So I requested a Trials, to start encouraging suitors.”

  Her words hung in the air between them. Emry bit the tip of her tongue. Cit was right. Their lives were going in different directions, and they would continue to do so. Cit was lonely. Emry shouldn’t have been surprised. Of course she was. Their father loved them, but he wasn’t exactly a close companion.

  Guilt trickled into Emry. She’d been so focused on becoming the queen Enlennd required that she’d let her relationship with Cit slip a little. She winced, but nodded. She understood Cit’s wishes. They were far from her own, but she was not her sister. They might have looked alike, but underneath they were two very different people.

  “When will your Trials take place?” Emry asked.

  Cit straightened. “Father said he needed a few months to get everything settled.”

  “Well, then,” Emry inhaled and said, “I hope your Knight is someone exciting.”

  Her sister laughed, the tension easing out of her, and shook her head again. “Only you would suggest such a thing.”

  “You’ll need someone to get you away from those keys every so often.” Emry smiled, dipping her head towards the pianoforte.

  “If all goes as planned, I won’t have a Knight for long.” Cit rolled her eyes. “Hopefully, one of my future suitors will steal my heart right away, and I can be rid of my Knight.”

  “One can hope,” Emry mused.

  As Cit twisted back to her music and began to play once more, Emry felt her smile fade. For Cit, as the younger sister, she could marry whom she pleased from Court. Even though no one knew she was the younger one, her father wouldn’t scrutinize her suitors as much as he would Emry’s. Emry would be the one expected to make a political match – someone who could be a proper queen’s consort.

  The thought didn’t sit well with Emry. It made somewhere deep inside of her ache. She wasn’t sure why, but Declan’s face came to mind. His teal eyes did nothing to soothe her.

  :::::

  It’d been snowing for the past three days. Not much of it all at once – just a steady drop of snow in the air. It was like the sprinkling version of snow. Never enough to make a snow drift, but always some flakes in sight. Declan wished it would just snow for real. It was like the weather couldn’t make up its mind.

  The drizzle of snow was making the entire camp both frozen and muddy. Declan’s boots were caked in the filthy slush. Icy soil wasn’t great to run on, either. It jarred his knees. Kearns hadn’t cared to take into account the effect of the weather conditions on the ground. She still had him running at least once a day for an hour or so, depending on her mood.

  Declan was just glad he had furs to sleep beneath. He could only imagine how miserable he’d be without them. He’d honestly probably die from exposure or hypothermia. Although, he might die of those anyway just from being forced outside in it all day.

  Kearns came for him at his tent that morning in her usual way – by shouting for him from a distance and a sharp jab in his side from those Back Rube abilities of hers. It was literally the same every single morning. She made him rise as the sun popped up above the horizon. Declan was convinced she just enjoyed giving him pain first thing in the morning.

  Today, Declan joined Tabitha – the Bronze girl who could become a wolf – and Kearns on his walk to the rounds. It meant that Declan wouldn’t be running until later in the day. He’d be dueling until Kearns released him for his first meal. Lovely.

  Declan tried not to shiver as he trudged alongside Tabitha between the tents and other emerging Stolen. Had he been alone, he would have been blowing on his hands to bring back some feeling in them. Kearns led him and the Bronze to her favorite round – the one closest to her quarters in the larger of the brick buildings.

  Tabitha didn’t say a word to Declan, and he felt no need to speak up either. It was just the way it was in the camp. There were no allies, no friends. The Back Rubes made sure of that. Anytime someone seemed to get particularly chummy, their Mains made them fight each other. The Back Rubes were big on the whole lone warrior idealistic.

  When Kearns pulled up to her favorite round near the river, Declan was surprised to see it was already taken. Kearns was usually the first one to it. She didn’t look upset at all, though, when she sidled up beside Simon. He gave her a brief once over before returning his attention to his slaves on the round. Declan noticed one of them was Rand.

  Tabitha halted a few feet behind the two Back Rubes – waiting for orders. Declan did the same, but to the side so that he could watch the match.

  Rand was against a petite blonde who had pale skin and black eyes with pink flecks. Declan only knew about the pink in her eyes because he’d once faced off against the woman, and had lost terribly. She was good – very strong, even for a Black. The pink in her eyes gave her the ability to pull blood through an opponent’s pores when she managed to touch skin. That had been especially painful when Declan had fought her. Rand seemed to be doing much better than he had.

  Most Grays had some sort of affinity with lightning. Usually, they could call it down. Others could control where it hit, and then even fewer could pull the lightning into themselves to shoot it out as a weapon. From what Declan had seen, Rand could call it down and control where the bolt landed. He couldn’t really contain it within himself. His main strengths were in creating electrical storms and wind.

  Against the Black, he was using mostly wind. In this frigid air, it was difficult to call out lightning. Instead, Rand had created a wind funnel on the round, contained to just the clay.

  The blonde Black, to her credit, was still progressing towards Rand – one step at a time. When his wind didn’t knock her down, Rand tried a different tactic. He created a thick fog on the round, blocking him and the black-eyed from view. Several bolts of lightning erupted down onto the round, causing Declan to jump. There was no thunder. It was just like the lightning up in the clouds when he’d first arrived at the camp – back before it became so freezing.

  There was a loud scream, and the fog dissipated. Or rather, whatever method Rand had been using to keep it confined to the round disappeared, and the fog radiated outward into the camp.

  It took a moment for Declan to register what he was seeing as the fog cleared. The Black was on her back – eyes wide and body twitching. Rand was crouched beside her, a
hand on her throat. He was choking her, but she wasn’t fighting him off. Because she’d most likely just been hit by lightning, her muscles were spasming and not responding.

  “Enough!” Simon shouted.

  Rand didn’t remove his hand. In fact, he tightened his grip.

  “I said enough!” Simon growled.

  Still Rand did nothing. He was going to kill her if he didn’t stop. The girl’s face was turning purple. Declan stared. Was Rand trying to … He wasn’t, was he? Was Rand going to actually kill her – to give her the release he was never granted?

  The luxury.

  Declan swore and tapped into his Teal speed. In less than a heartbeat, Declan yanked Rand off of the blonde and then returned back to the spot he’d been standing. It was as if he’d never left. He’d moved faster than just a blur – he’d been invisible.

  Rand flew onto the clay, releasing his grasp on the Black’s neck. If Declan hadn’t known better, Rand would have looked like he just stumbled backwards onto his rear. Kearns, though, had felt Declan tap into his speed. She whirled, but Declan met her gaze evenly. As far as he was concerned, he was innocent. He’d only helped Simon along.

  Kearns’s eyes narrowed for a moment before she set her sights on Tabitha. “On the round, Bronze. Stay close, Sharpe, you’ll be next.”

  Tabitha stepped onto the round as Rand rose to his feet. Declan watched as a couple Rubys dragged the black-eyed off to the side. If they couldn’t heal her here, she’d be taken to the infirmary tent. Simon called over another one of his prisoners to fight Tabitha – another Bronze.

  With both of the Back Rubes now occupied, Rand joined Declan. “I know what you did,” he hissed.

  “I figured you would,” Declan retorted, keeping his eyes on the duel between the Bronzes.

  “Interfere with me again, and I’ll send a bolt through your tent,” Rand spat out.

  Declan turned to him and lifted a brow. “I stopped you from making a mistake. You would have killed her.”

  “I wasn’t going to kill her. Even if I did, she’d be better off than alive here.” Rand snapped, his nostrils flaring. He spun on his heel, about to head off, but Declan grabbed his arm with one hand, twisting him back around.

  “She didn’t want it, Rand,” Declan said, locking eyes with the Gray. “Just because you want to die, doesn’t mean others do too.”

  “And how would you know?” He demanded. “Losing to me meant losing her tent. You think she wants to be out in the snow?”

  “Someone who wants to be dead doesn’t look so terrified when it calls,” Declan shot back. “Not everyone thinks death is a gift. You killing her meant you’d be taking away her choice to live. You’d be no better than the Back Rubes.”

  “I wasn’t going to kill her,” Rand repeated, yanking his arm free of Declan’s grip.

  “I’ve watched you fight plenty of duels, and not once have you choked your opponent at the end.” Declan frowned. “What made this girl different?”

  Rand’s face took on a dark look. A mix of pain, defiance, shame, and rage. He just stood there glaring at Declan for long enough that Declan wasn’t sure he’d answer. But then, in a low voice, he snarled, “You keep to your duels and I’ll keep to mine.”

  “I’ll try to remember.” Declan grunted.

  He snorted and stormed off, muttering something under his breath. Before he’d taken two steps, Declan called out, “You’re welcome, Rand.”

  The Gray didn’t so much as offer him a glance back.

  :::::

  Emry was walking through the woods that surrounded her palace. She’d left her rented horse with the stable hand just minutes before. It’d been another lovely afternoon spent at the Ranga Pit. The past four hours had been filled with shadow and sun blades. She’d spent longer than she’d originally intended, but it’d been so easy to get caught up within her workout. Sparring with Yvonne’s clients was almost as good as facing off with Trezim. Almost.

  The woods were quiet today. A blanket of snow covered them, muting even Emry’s steps to a gentle hush. They were eerie and barren with plenty of shadows for her to play with.

  It was cold, but the cloud cover above made the day bearable as long as Emry kept moving. She was grateful she’d gone with fur-lined Kruth leggings, a thick sweater tunic, and boots instead of her usual Turanga practice attire. The extra layers helped to keep her warm enough. She just had to tuck her hands into the sleeves of her sweater. Next time she’d remember gloves.

  It was getting harder to sneak off unnoticed. Her father was beginning to suspect she left the palace grounds. Or, at least, she assumed he suspected something. He’d begun to have palace guards patrol the woods. They hadn’t started calling out her name or anything, but they did spend a little too much time analyzing her footprints when they just suddenly ended. Little did they know, she’d become shadow and climbed up a tree to avoid them. It’d only happened a handful of times, thankfully. She was just going to have to be more careful because she was not going to stop training at the Ranga Pit.

  The sound of hooves on snow wafted to her, louder than any other noise. Emry winced. It was as if just thinking of them brought the guards to her. With a sharp intake of breath, Emry became shadow and jumped up the nearest tree. Once up in the branches, as nothing more than slithering tendrils of black mist, Emry leapt across to the branches of another tree and then another until she was no longer directly above her last footprints in the snow.

  About two minutes later, three guards in her palace’s livery of black, silver, and white halted below her in a spray of snow and billowing plumes of hot breath from both man and horse. They inspected her footsteps, spending far longer than Emry felt was necessary, and then finally rode off in the direction she’d come.

  She waited until she could no longer hear them before dropping down from her perch. Right in front of a woman.

  Emry swore, and the woman let out a cry of surprise. Her eyes shot up to the trees and then back down to Emry. It was obvious that Emry had come from them, and she’d been too occupied with the guards to notice anyone else. A mistake on Emry’s part.

  “I’m sorry,” Emry exclaimed, and then mentally kicked herself for using her Anexian accent. They weren’t in Anexia. Why had Emry jumped to that?

  The woman looked to be in her fifties – maybe even sixties. She had dark brown hair with gray streaks throughout it, what looked like a slender form beneath her layers, and teal eyes. Declan’s eyes. Emry gawked.

  The logical part of her brain told her that there were many, many Teals out in the world, but … This woman’s eyes were not only the same shade of teal, but also the same shape – set the same width apart.

  “What’s your name?” Emry once again found herself blurting out on impulse.

  The Teal, to her credit, merely said slowly in an Anexian accent, “I’m Llydia Finn.”

  Her name sent an odd jolt through Emry. She had no idea why. The woman’s name didn’t ring any bells. Yet, her eyes … Emry knew those eyes – knew them with a certainty that reached down to her very core. “Are you related to Declan Sharpe?” The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them.

  Llydia stiffened. It took her a few seconds to respond. “He’s my son.”

  All at once, Emry was instantly glad she’d mistakenly used her Anexian accent, and suddenly very aware of how loud her own heartbeat was. She forced a smile and held her hands at her side, ignoring the sudden strange urge to flutter them about.

  This was Declan’s mother. Here. In front of her. Why were her palms starting to sweat?

  Emry offered her a smile. “I knew your son, back in Anexia. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

  His mother didn’t respond right away. She eyed Emry through a furrowed brow for a moment. Then, she asked, “Have we met before?”

  “I don’t think so.” Emry shook her head. She knew for a fact they’d never met.

  “You look so familiar,” Llydia replied, frowning. “What’s your name?�
��

  Emry sincerely hoped Llydia had never seen her as a princess from a distance. She should have made her hair blonde. Realistically that wouldn’t have helped much, but it would have made Emry feel a little better about it. She bit the tip of her tongue. “Em- Emry,” she stuttered, almost revealing her full name. What was wrong with her today? “Emry DeLune.”

  “DeLune?” Llydia lifted her eyebrows, startled.

  For a brief second, Emry panicked, wondering if Llydia had ever heard of her mother’s family. DeLune had been Emry’s mother’s last name. Emry had used it at the estate with Ewan, who had also used it while incognito on border control. It wasn’t her actual last name, because the parent with the higher rank was the one who passed on their surname to the children. Unless it was a marriage between commoners, then the children just took the father’s last name as Declan had. Llydia fixating on her mother’s surname made Emry nervous. Declan hadn’t thought anything of it.

  When Llydia didn’t say anything more, Emry nodded. “Yes. What brings you to Enn?”

  Again, Llydia hesitated to answer. “I’ve been seeking an audience with the king, but it was a foolish, desperate hope that he’d make time for me.”

  She wished to see her father? Emry frowned. Declan had saved her life. His mother’s request was simple enough that Emry could help her. At least in this. “I could get you an audience with him.”

  “You could?” Llydia blinked. “How?”

  Emry went with honesty. “I live in the palace.”

  That should have produced several follow-up questions from Llydia, but instead, all she asked was, “How soon could you arrange it?”

  “Tomorrow. Can you wait that long?”

  Emry knew Onyx would be free after breakfast the next day as the ambassador from Heerth had canceled on their meeting. Llydia could catch him in the Court’s receiving room. Whenever a morning meeting was canceled, he usually went to mingle with the courtiers while they shared gossip and trade and whatnot. It happened every morning, and Emry and her sister usually avoided it like a plague.