Entwined Paths (Swift Shadows Book 2)

by M. L. Greye

  “Emry,” Levric said gently, as if her emotions were written across her face. They probably were. Or–

  Her head snapped up. Swirling shadows filled the space between her and Levric. She’d lost her grip on them. Her cheeks burned as she quickly scanned the rest of the tavern. Fortunately, her shadows were contained to the table. She brought up her hand and rested it on top of the table, palm up. Then, as quickly as she could, she sucked the shadow back into her.

  “Sorry,” she murmured, unable to meet Levric’s eyes. She had no idea what he must think of her. What it looked like to suddenly find her oozing darkness. He probably wore the same hint of fear that Sabine and Trez had worn. Emry had half a mind to get up and go. Levric had to be regretting accepting her help – probably doubting his own thought process.

  “Do you remember what I said about the portion of Anexians who deemed themselves as Rioters?” Levric asked casually. Emry glanced up at him in surprise.

  “All of them,” she said slowly. He’d told her back in Breccan when she’d suggested starting there. He’d told her rallying Anexia wouldn’t be a problem.

  “More or less.” He smiled and took a sip from his mug. “Now, do you know how many Rioters there are in Kruth?”

  “No.” She shook her head.

  “Nearly as many.”

  She frowned. “And how do you know that?”

  “During the past several months I’ve attended a few riots, as the Royals like to call them,” he explained. “From what I could tell, most commoners here called themselves Rioters.”

  “You traveled all the way to Kruth for some riots?” Emry blinked.

  “I was hoping to discover if the Rioters here had some sort of leader,” he replied, his gaze shifting to the fire.

  “And they don’t, do they?”

  He shook his head, returning his attention to her. “No, they don’t. The only region with someone resembling a leader is Glavenryl. Not even in Anexia.”

  She loosed her breath out in a rush as she pulled a face. “And I’m supposed to unite them all?”

  “I’ve had two weeks to think on it.” Levric leaned forward over the table, wrapping both hands around his mug. Emry couldn’t help but notice the similarities between him and his son. Their mannerisms were a little different, but Declan clearly took after his father, excluding his eye color.

  “So have I.” Emry winced. “I hope you’ve come up with some idea, because I’m afraid I’ve been useless.”

  Levric’s forehead creased. “You aren’t useless, Emry. You simply are in need of counsel.”

  Emry frowned, unsure of how to respond. She didn’t disagree – the idea of someone to guide her sounded lovely. Yet, her experience with her father’s advisors – men who ruled through him – made her wary of having some of her own.

  “I think your first step should be to find yourself some sort of committee to help you along your way,” Levric went on. “Men and women with some expertise that you can turn to with your questions, when necessary.”

  “You- you want me to pick them myself?” Emry blurted.

  “Only you know your shortcomings and strengths,” he replied, frowning. “I would only suggest searching out people who are well versed in the things you know less about. So that they might be a source of information for you.”

  “As advisors should be,” Emry mused.

  “Yes,” he agreed.

  “Well, that sounds like it will take some time, and travel to other regions.” Emry knew she’d most likely need at least one person from each region – unlike her father’s advisors who almost exclusively hailed from Enn. But having someone from each region on her committee meant finding the perfect candidates would be an ongoing task. “So, in the meantime, is there something else I should be doing in Kruth?”

  He was quiet for a moment. Then, “I think you should learn the Mountain Thunder.”

  “What?” Emry was genuinely surprised. “The Kruth dance? Why?”

  “It is a favorite in Kruth,” he answered. “If you find yourself a commoner tutor, you might end up making a few Rioter friends.”

  “Friends who might lead me to someone worthy of joining my new committee?” Emry chuckled. “Alright. I’ll do my best.” She paused. “How long will you be in Wexric?”

  “I’ll leave morning after next.”

  “So soon?” The thought of being alone again made her antsy. She liked having someone to scheme with.

  “I must return to my forge,” he said simply. “But Llydia will be here another week to help you in whatever way she can.”

  “Llydia’s here?” Emry blinked.

  “She’s already upstairs in bed,” he replied. “Our trip tired her. She projected her speed into our horses for most of the day to give us a short journey.”

  “Oh to be a Teal,” Emry commented. “Thank you for coming, Levric. For being willing to help me.”

  He gave her a sad smile. “You forget – you’re the one helping me.”

  :::::

  The next morning, Emry woke slightly less panicked, but still feeling the weight of the burden she’d placed on herself. Despite her chat with Levric the night before, she was still anxious. Her worry had kept her up far into the early hours of the morning. No matter how hard she’d tried, she couldn’t seem to shake that feeling of being alone.

  She knew she wasn’t actually alone – she had both Levric and Llydia. Yet, the path she was choosing to trod would not be an easy one. She hoped to make allies along the way, but she was most likely going to lose friends and possibly some family. Not to mention, her choices could lead her to death – either at the hand of an enemy or, in the worst case, her own father. He and his advisors would see her as treasonous, no matter her underlying motives. Her father had told her explicitly to stay away from the politics of Enlennd. She was willfully going against her king’s wishes, and was going so far as to make herself the leader of the band that opposed his rule. On paper, it really did look like treason.

  What was she thinking? She had to have lost her mind. For her to even think that she could win over the various Rioter factions was ludicrous enough, but for her to believe she could unite them once again with the Royals while staying anonymous to her father had to be demented … which led her back to her panic.

  There was going to be a cost for her actions. She was going to lose those she cared about, either from betrayal or death or her withdrawing from her social circles to maintain her secrets. Because there would be secrets. Emry could nearly taste them already. There were going to be many secrets. And all for what?

  For the commoners. For the nobles. For Enlennd. For her people to keep their lands, their lifestyles. To guard them from looking like a weak nation to those with conquering eyes. To have all of her people heard. To unite the Rioters and Royals. To give the children of Enlennd a brighter future.

  For them …. For them, Emry would sacrifice what was required of her. She would do what it’d take.

  Because deep down, she knew what she’d told dream Declan was true – she was capable of far more than what she had been doing. Than what had been expected of her. So she’d throw herself into this scheme. Eventually, it’d probably work itself out. She would give everything she had to try to save Enlennd from a tragic future. Even if it meant giving her own life. Her own soul. She just hoped that if it came to that, she would be enough.

  And there it was. What scared her the most – that no matter what she sacrificed, no matter how hard she worked, it wouldn’t be enough and everything would have been in vain. Emry had no control over the outcome. It made her feel helpless, and she really hated feeling helpless. But she had to do what she could. She had to leap and hope she’d land on solid ground.

  “Sometimes it pays to be brave.”

  Declan’s words from her dream rang through her. She’d be as brave as she could manage … Starting with getting out of bed.

  It had to be almost noon. She’d slept in after not being able to fall aslee
p until it was nearly dawn. Emry moaned and pushed herself up.

  Tonight, there was some sort of welcoming banquet in her honor, thrown by the Viscountess who had her Wexric townhouse on the same street as Emry’s. About five houses down. Yet, Emry would still be required to arrive by carriage to avoid ruining her ballgown in the sludgy snow.

  Her presence for that, though, wouldn’t be expected until long after sunset. Which left her plenty of time to go “shopping.” If she happened to take an abnormal amount of time in a particular dress shop, her guards wouldn’t be too suspicious.

  Llydia would be meeting her at a shop after lunch. So, probably within the next hour or two. Emry needed to get up.

  Releasing another moan, she swung her bare feet over the edge of the bed and headed into her attached bathing room for a long, hot shower.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  “Today will be a humbling day for you, Sharpe.” Kearns said by way of greeting when Declan arrived at the rounds shortly after dawn.

  “How so?” Declan held back a sigh. He had grown used to Kearns making similar claims every few days. Usually when she was in the mood to spill some blood.

  Kearns wasn’t even looking at him. Her eyes were on the Brown girl he’d been skinned alive over and Kearns’s newest pet – a Gray from the Anexia-Kruth border. The Brown and Gray were on a round, and the Gray was destroying the Brown.

  The Gray was a twig of a woman with spiky short hair – so different from Declan’s own long, shaggy tangle and beard. He had only shaved three times since coming to the camp. All three times had been done by a Ruby in order to fix some injury. He usually kept his beard relatively short on his own, thanks to the blades he sparred with. But he was only so comfortable with how close he put the practice blades to his face. It was honestly how most of the men in the camp looked. The only clean-shaven ones were returning from the infirmary or fresh-faced.

  Declan watched the Gray for a moment as well. Her eyes were barely larger than slits, hooded by thin black eyebrows that matched her hair. Naria. That was her name. Naria had just recently moved into her own tent – after only being here a week. It was shocking that she’d been able to claim one so fast, but Declan had to admit the girl deserved one. She was powerful and clever in her duels.

  “After your usual morning run, you’re to face off with the new Blue from Heerth in staffs. Then, you and Naria will play,” Kearns told him. “If you survive that without any major injuries, this evening will begin your new nightly run.”

  Declan tried not to wince. Kearns enjoyed seeing him squirm. Yet, the idea of running double after two duels made him want to cringe. Kearns turned to sneer and gloat, so he kept his face impassive and merely asked, “Should I begin my first run now?”

  He enjoyed the disappointed, downward pull of her mouth at his lack of emotion as she jerked her chin to the mountains behind him. “Six laps in twenty seconds or you can walk back to your tent naked.”

  He had never done six laps in twenty seconds. She knew this. But there was no use complaining – he’d only be feeding into her sick pleasure. Declan clenched his jaw and spun on his heel. He then tapped his speed and took off.

  Twenty seconds later Declan collapsed onto the frozen ground not ten feet from Kearns – his stomach roiling. Kearns cackled. “Was that too much for you, Sharpe?”

  He had to wait to respond until he caught his breath. It took far longer than he cared to admit. Yet, he still said, “Again.”

  “You sure?” Kearns raised a brow. “Same rules apply. I hope you’re not too attached to those clothes you have on.”

  Declan pushed himself to his feet and took as deep a breath as he could manage with his still pounding heart. “Again.”

  Thirty minutes later, Declan found himself across from Fiona on a round. Still fully clothed. He’d finished his second round of six laps in twenty seconds. Barely, though. He’d laid on the cold ground for a solid ten minutes while he waited for the world to stop spinning and his heart to no longer threaten suddenly stopping from all the exertion.

  “Begin!” Kearns barked from her usual spot – a step away from the rim of the clay.

  He lunged for Fiona, flicking out his staff with one wrist. He’d expected her to block his strike with her own staff. But instead she slid to her knees, bent backwards so that his swing went right over her, and rolled her own staff down the side of his body. She hooked it around one of his knees and yanked it toward herself. Declan stumbled backward, hopping on one foot. Fiona kicked out one leg, wrapping around his ankle and tugged. Declan swore as he landed on his back. Fiona was better than Semrez at staffs. Far better.

  Declan had gotten to the point where he could hold his own against Semrez. Yet Fiona had just made him look like he’d never picked up a staff before in his life. And she’d been fast. Declan wasn’t allowed to tap his speed with the staffs, just as with swords, but he suspected even if he had, she still would have made him look like a fool.

  Fiona appeared above him – her staff in one hand, resting one end of it on the clay. She waved upward with her free hand. “Up. Up. Again.”

  She’d apparently learned a new word since the last time they’d spoken. He grimaced and pushed himself up. As he did, he noticed how short her staff was. It was nearly half the size of his own. He’d never seen anyone else use that particular length.

  He pointed at her staff. “Why’d you pick the short one?”

  “Short one?” She repeated, frowning.

  “Mine’s much taller than yours.” Declan waved a hand up and down his staff and then waved a hand at hers. “Yours is shorter.”

  She blinked, rambled off something in Heerth, and then said, “Short one for Turanga.”

  “Turanga?” The word was foreign on his tongue. “What’s Turanga?”

  Fiona stared at him in surprise. She then waved her hand back and forth between them. “This is Turanga.”

  “Stop talking and start hitting,” Kearns snapped from her place along the sidelines, her arms folded across her flat chest.

  The Blue picked up her staff and obliged the Back Rube. Declan almost didn’t bring his staff up in time to block Fiona’s swing. The next one thwacked across his right thigh so hard he knew it’d bruise. Fiona then continued to annihilate Declan. Until his knuckles were bleeding from where she’d hit them, and he wondered if she’d cracked one of his ribs on the left side. Until she’d knocked him down for the hundredth time. Until Kearns finally told Fiona to stop.

  :::::

  Emry entered the designated dress shop exactly on time, but didn’t glimpse Llydia anywhere. Perhaps Llydia was running a little late.

  Inhaling deeply through her mouth, Emry meandered about the shop – stopping to admire various swaths of fabric on display, and a few already made gowns to show elements of different trends the clients could choose between. She stopped alongside some turquoise and green cloth that had clearly been imported from Heerth and ran her hands over them. The cloth reminded her of Declan’s eyes.

  Ever since her dream, she couldn’t seem to get him out of her head. He’d looked so sullen and sad, not at all how he’d been in real life.

  “I love those colors.”

  Llydia’s voice made Emry jump. She whirled, dropping her hand to her side. “Hello, Llydia.”

  Her teal eyes – Declan’s eyes – scrunched up as she smiled at Emry. “It’s good to see you again.”

  “You, too.” She forced a smile, glancing away from her gaze. For some reason, Llydia’s eyes made her uncomfortable. Was it a little too warm in here? Emry moved on away from the bright Heerth patterns and towards the back of the shop. “Levric said you might be able to help me with some things.”

  “I can try,” she mused.

  “Where do commoners dance the Mountain Thunder?” Emry asked.

  “At Barneries.”

  She turned. “At what?”

  “Barneries. It’s so cold in Kruth that most of our dances are held within barns. Hence the name
.” Llydia stopped beside a swath of soft pink fabric – the sort that was used on infants. Most likely for a grandchild … for Llydia’s grandchild.

  Did the child belong to one of her daughters? Or Declan … Emry still hadn’t asked about him. He was in his twenties now. Village boys rarely stayed single past twenty. Declan could have married long ago. The baby Llydia was thinking about could have even been his second child.

  For some reason, the thought of Declan married with a child deeply unsettled Emry. She had no reason to feel this way. She’d only come in contact with her brother’s friend a handful of times. Just because he’d saved her life once didn’t mean she had any sort of claim on him. Or that she even knew him. Dreaming of him didn’t count.

  Emry shook her head, in an attempt to clear it, when she realized what Llydia had said. “Our dances? Are you not Anexian?”

  Llydia glanced up from the cloth. “Did I say that?” She chuckled softly. “Whenever I’m back in Kruth, the lines blur. I’m half-Kruth. I was born here, and lived here until I was ten.”

  “You don’t have any sort of an accent.” Emry blinked.

  “You only think that because I mostly use my Anexian accent,” Llydia replied with a smile. “I haven’t forgotten my Kruth roots.”

  Emry glanced away to a white lace dress with a wide gold ribbon around the high waistline. A thinner gold ribbon twined through the heart-shaped neckline and hems of its sleeves. It wasn’t extraordinarily elegant, but it was pretty. “So, these Barneries – how can I get invited to one of them?”

  Llydia came up alongside her. “You don’t need an invite – they’re usually open to the public. I can ask at the inn for the information about the next Barnerie.”

  “Thank you.”