Entwined Paths (Swift Shadows Book 2)

by M. L. Greye

  According to Fiona, the first time she came, she’d stayed only a couple minutes – just to check up on him. The next time, Declan was in much better shape. He’d been awake for a quarter of the day and was no longer randomly sweating. He was even coherent enough to ask her what qippo meant – if she knew. It’d sounded like Heerth to him, and he’d been right.

  “It means brother,” she’d said. “It’s what you are, aren’t you?”

  Declan was finally released from the infirmary the next night to rest in his own bed. Not to train the next morning. No, the Ruby said he’d be down for at least another two days. Rand had destroyed him, and not at Simon’s behest. Declan was ready for some answers, which was why he went straight to Rand’s rather than his own place.

  He moved slowly through the camp in the cool night. When he reached Rand’s A-frame, he let himself in. The Gray was at his stove – stirring something in a pot.

  At the sight of Declan, he smiled, and relief filled his eyes. “You hungry?” he asked by way of greeting.

  “What did you make?” Declan sank onto Rand’s cot – too tired and sore to care if he just took his friend’s spot.

  “Potato soup.” Rand twisted back to the pot. “It’s nearly ready.”

  “Did you make enough to share?” Declan shifted on the cot and winced from the movement. Just because his skin was sealed up didn’t mean that all the tissue underneath was completely sewn back together. It was the same problem with all Rubys – they made their patients look better than they felt.

  “I did.” Rand stood up from his crouch. “I have bread warming too.”

  Declan blinked up at him. Rand had prepared a feast by Stolen standards. “Were you expecting a visitor?”

  Rand moved to his narrow, makeshift table – something Declan didn’t possess in his own place – where he’d stacked his two cups, two bowls, and two sets of silverware. “Fiona found out you’d be set loose today. I figured you’d come here.”

  He frowned. “Why’d you do it, Rand?”

  “To stop you from fighting Torrek.” He twisted around to lean back against his table and folded his arms across his chest.

  “I’ve already figured as much,” Declan retorted, not able to hold the bite from his voice. “Why’d you stop me from fighting him?”

  It was the question he’d been asking himself. Rand knew how fast Declan was. Declan could have taken the Back Rube. Rand had said himself that if anyone could escape, it would have been Declan. So, why had he stopped him?

  “Torrek isn’t like the other Back Rubes,” Rand explained, his voice low. “The pink in his eyes makes his skin into poison when he wishes it.”

  Declan raised an eyebrow as Rand went on, “As a Teal, you can only inflict injury by touching him. His poison can travel through clothes. Can burn you all the way to the bone.” Rand glanced away toward the stove before turning back a second later. “You probably still would have done plenty of damage, but at great physical cost to yourself. I guessed that if I injured you badly enough, Simon would make me go in your place.”

  “So being gutted is better than dealing with a little poisonous skin?” Declan asked dryly.

  “Torrek’s ability is like being skinned and burned alive all at once.” Rand stretched out the fingers on his left hand in front of him, opening and closing his fist. “Imagine that all over you. I didn’t want you to have to go through that again.”

  With his gray eyes, Rand could inflict pain without having to touch Torrek. Rand had done it to protect Declan. Annoying of him. Probably imprudent and backwards as well. But in truth, Declan had probably fared better with just a slice around his right ribs.

  Still, he’d taken away Declan’s choice in the matter and that upset Declan. He understood why he’d done it. Like Declan himself, Rand did his best to shield those he cared for. Apparently that included Declan. His qippo.

  “It wasn’t your choice to make,” Declan told him.

  “I know.” Rand watched him, waiting. His arms still folded across his chest.

  He was bracing himself for Declan’s reaction. He was probably expecting Declan to get angry, because Rand would have been furious were their roles reversed. And Declan was. But he was also starving and too exhausted to hold it against Rand’s ultimately good intentions.

  So, Declan just nodded his head towards the stove and said, “Dish me out some of your soup. I don’t care if it’s not done yet.”

  :::::

  It’d been two months since Cit’s Trials and two weeks since she’d begun living with Warks and his wife, Sera. As far as her father knew, she was in Pritchl with her own personal guard, chosen just for her. Since she preferred to travel, she’d told her father she needed to hire her own set of traveling guards – on Levric’s suggestion.

  Incredibly enough, Onyx had agreed with Emry – so as to free up Vardin’s men. Fine by Emry. She’d hired about ten highly qualified, big brawny men and set out for Pritchl.

  Except, she stopped in Pragge and her men dispersed, leaving her chaperone free. Now, she wasn’t even in Pragge. She was in Lakton – at the Anexian-Midlands border, the perfect position for The Mistress. She’d hired Hammond the Kruth and his birds to deliver messages. It was faster than sending a Teal messenger. She was in bi-weekly contact with Levric or Greggin. Warks was gaining new recruits for her Eyes almost daily now.

  Her Eyes had been one of Warks’s ideas. A good one, too. He’d made a few of his trusted employees into Eyes. The rest of them were hand selected by Warks and then approved by Emry – The Mistress.

  As for her father, Warks made sure to keep him thinking she was safe in Pritchl, while also somehow making it appear that Emry was attending various events. No doubt through the help of Fanny. Emry’s maid, along with a couple of her new guards, had gone on to Pritchl to keep up appearances. Emry had sent them at the request of Warks.

  Fanny didn’t know Emry was The Mistress. She was just under the impression that Emry was working with The Mistress – trying to mend the rift. And Fanny, the glorious woman she was, had allied herself with Emry in keeping her secrets.

  Part of now living with Warks and his wife in their tasteful home, Emry had to rise with the sun to go down to help them in the kitchen. Sera was a baker and Warks was often her assistant. Since Emry had arrived, she’d replaced Warks in the kitchen. Between the two of them, they’d been teaching Emry all sorts of things since she’d arrived. It was hard work, but so rewarding – in a mouthwatering way. They usually finished making all the baked goods for the day by noon.

  Sera’s actual hired assistant ran the front of the store while Emry and Sera baked, since the shop opened not long after Emry woke up. Sera was up earlier but refused to let Emry get up with her. She claimed Emry had other troubles to keep her from sleep.

  Warks would sometimes go out before dawn, returning with whatever news he had for Emry just in time for a scrumptious lunch. Sera was a very good cook.

  After lunch, Warks and Emry would discuss his news and plan what to do next. Then, Emry would join in sparring and training her Eyes. Some were already fighters. Others had never held a blade before.

  Emry usually spent the second half of her days with one of the twins – Leigha and Sienna – or Jonis in running her Eyes through drills. Emry was teaching them all the Turanga. Leigha and a couple of her Eyes were picking it up fairly quickly. The rest, though … it would take time. Luckily, she had some time.

  She’d be in Lakton for three months, then it was off to Kruth again. Emry hoped to have most of her Eyes field ready by then – to alleviate the stress on Warks’s limited numbers of spy-employees turned Eyes.

  While she was here, she’d also pick at the Midland militant forces, bringing the common soldiers into her group of allies. Her Eyes were spreading her title like wildfire through every town and tavern they passed, letting all know The Mistress was looking for reinforcements. Already, they’d gained some interest. Commoners everywhere were tired of the Royals.

&
nbsp; Today, though, Emry had left Sera a little later than normal because of her children. Warks and Sera’s two daughters were barely more than babies at three and one. Growing up, Emry had been secluded from babies and other children. Living in the same house as two children these past couple weeks had been an adjustment and an enormous surprise. She’d discovered she loved babies.

  Their chubby cheeks and easy smiles were addicting. Sera let Emry help her take care of them, and Emry honestly enjoyed it. The two girls had begged Emry to play dolls with them this morning. Emry couldn’t refuse, so she’d postponed leaving to join Warks in the nearby meadows he’d turned into rudimentary practice fields for her Eyes.

  Now, Emry was fighting Leigha, but not on a round. Those weren’t really a thing in the Midlands. They belonged more to Kruth. Across from Emry, Leigha was starting to be able to keep up with her at the Turanga. It was nice to have someone to spar with outside of the Ranga Pit – especially out in the spring warmth.

  Emry was in her sleeveless undershirt and leggings in Anexian style. Kruth only had ones with fur on the inside. It was definitely too warm for fur. “Watch your left side,” she warned Leigha.

  The Green tried to twist away, to save her left side, but ended up overcorrecting. Emry’s blow smacked Leigha right in the hip. Leigha cursed – the like of which to make a pirate blush – and bent over. “Gah, that hurts.”

  “Are you in need of a Ruby?” Emry took a step backwards, lowering her staff.

  “Yes. No,” Leigha muttered without looking up. Pieces of her blonde hair had fallen out of her bun and were now dangling towards the ground.

  Emry chuckled. “Should we take a break?”

  “Might be wise,” a voice said from behind Emry.

  She turned to find Warks with Jonis coming up alongside him. Leigha straightened, and Emry frowned at the looks on the men’s faces. “What brings you to a practice field, Warks?”

  “My Mistress.” Warks inclined his head. “We’ve had some upsetting news.”

  “Oh?” Emry dropped one end of her staff onto the grass and leaned slightly into it.

  “The royal family of Perth has been murdered,” Warks replied, his voice low and even.

  It took a moment for his words to register. Emry stared at him. “What?”

  “Four days ago.” He nodded.

  Emry would have liked to sit down. Her eyes darted between Jonis and Warks. She even tossed a quick glance at Leigha, who looked a lot less startled than Emry felt. “Who killed them?” Emry demanded. “Is Perth now in disarray? Who took over Perth?”

  It couldn’t have been the Ship Lords. She knew the Pirate Wars involving Perth had ended, despite its continuance between themselves. Who else would have attacked the Perth royals? Heerth and Perth were allies. Quirl was on friendly terms with Perth, which left just one other nation. Her own.

  There was no way her father had sanctioned an attack on Perth. No possible way. They had far too much to worry over within their own nation to start bringing trouble elsewhere.

  “One of their own killed them,” Warks replied, silencing Emry’s panicked fear that her father had lost his mind. “Perth’s champion of the Pirate Wars.”

  “Varamtha Roqaene?” Emry blurted, stunned. “She killed her sovereigns?”

  Jonis grunted. “She is the sovereign now.”

  Warks frowned. “Varamtha is now the self-appointed queen of Perth.”

  Emry glanced away from her spymaster – out toward the few others sparring on the meadow nearby. Out towards her new Eyes. They were fresh and ready to follow her, but to what end? The king of Quirl had been right, at least in this. Varamtha was apparently greedy for power.

  She grimaced. “What does this mean for us?”

  “At the moment? Nothing.” Warks tapped three fingers against the belt at his waist. “We continue down our path.”

  “Agreed,” Jonis intoned.

  “Very well.” Emry sucked in a deep breath.

  She’d met the king of Perth and his consort once a few years back – shortly after Ewan had died, but before she’d left for Heerth. They’d been reserved, but not unkind. The king’s father had been the one to attack Emry’s grandfather. Yet, this new king had wanted peace – to forget past squabbles. Emry had honestly liked him. To hear of his death from his own champion … Varamtha was a Silver.

  That thought didn’t sit well with Emry. She couldn’t help but think Varamtha’s actions would only feed into Trezim’s fears of Silvers. It was selfish of her to think it – to worry over something so trivial when a family had been murdered. Yet, Emry couldn’t help but think about how this news would only make Trez fear her more.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  Declan slapped the back of his neck with one hand. Not that it helped. Mosquitos were everywhere in the camp. The icy conditions of winter had given way to a muddy, insect infested spring. Well, really it was almost summer. The base of the Kruth Mountains, though, was struggling to catch up with the rest of the continent.

  The mosquitos were always the worst at dawn and dusk. Declan tossed a glance toward the setting sun. It was twilight – the mosquitos preferred feeding time. Declan really hated mosquitos. He heard buzzing around his ear and waved his hand to try to swish however many bugs encircled his skull.

  Really, he should just tap into his speed, rather than endure the blood-sucking pests. If he’d had the energy, he would have done just that. Simon had practically run him into the ground today. Honestly, just putting one foot in front of the other was a chore. He would have liked a hot shower, but it wasn’t showering hours in the camp. He’d have to wait for morning.

  As he neared his A-frame, his gaze drifted to the one beside his own – Rand’s. It sat about fifteen feet away from his and was absolutely identical on the outside. It was the same on the inside, too, except for the sparse furnishings Rand had acquired or built.

  Declan hadn’t seen Rand since their midday meal. He wondered if his friend had fought another Back Rube that day. Rand never told him until after the fact – as if he never wanted Declan for an audience.

  On impulse, Declan decided to stop by Rand’s before heading back to his own home. He climbed the two steps up to the front door. As he moved to twist open the doorknob, though, the quietest of moans froze him in place. The noise hadn’t come from inside, but around the corner of the A-frame – toward the slanted side furthest from the mess hall and the Back Rubes’ living quarters. Slowly, Declan lowered his arm.

  Mustering up the last dregs of effort he had left within him, Declan tapped his speed and zipped around the corner of the A-frame. Only to come to an abrupt stop at what he found. He’d expected to find someone hurt – possibly even Rand himself, unable to make it all the way back to his door.

  Well, Rand was there, but so was Fiona – entangled together, leaning back against the roof of Rand’s A-frame. Declan stared. They were kissing. No, more than kissing. They were sucking each other’s faces off. And they had no idea Declan had discovered them.

  It wasn’t unusual for Stolen to be about camp kissing out in the open. He’d learned most Stolen used it as a stress reliever – or a way to deny what their lives were for a few minutes at a time. But Rand and Fiona … This wasn’t like that. They were devouring each other with a desperate hunger – like any moment one of them would drop dead. Like they could never do this again.

  Declan shouldn’t be here. He shouldn’t be seeing them. Because this … this wasn’t just a display of camp passion. This was more. Much more.

  Tapping his speed once more, Declan ran to his own A-frame. He didn’t stop moving until he’d shut the door behind him. Releasing his breath out in a rush, Declan slid down the length of the door, sinking onto the floor. He tipped his head back against its wood and gazed up at the peak of his roof.

  He couldn’t explain it, but somewhere inside of him ached. It wasn’t jealousy per se – Rand and Fiona deserved to have found someone to potentially make them happy. Even in this horr
endous place. Declan was glad his two friends had finally admitted their feelings for each other. It was a very big step for Rand. Hopefully, he’d realized Fiona was capable of taking care of herself.

  No, Declan’s ache came from something else. It was almost as if he missed his own woman, which was ridiculous. He didn’t have anyone. To be honest, in this camp, he didn’t want anyone – for the same reason Rand had avoided Fiona. Declan didn’t want a woman he cared about being harmed because of him.

  Still, he couldn’t shake the feeling. Part of him suspected why, as much as he didn’t want to admit it to himself. Declan huffed out a sigh and shut his eyes.

  As if summoned, even though unbidden, Emry’s silver eyes appeared on the back of his eyelids. He thought of her daily. Her face was almost as familiar as his own. She had to be an adult now – like the woman in his dreams. Declan wondered for the thousandth time what she was doing with her life. Was she married? Did she have any children? Was she happy? Declan sincerely hoped she was happy.

  Emry was the woman for whom his insides ached. It didn’t make sense. Declan didn’t know her in real life. He only had his dreams to go off of. Yet, in his dreams, she was vibrant and interesting and beautiful. Declan wished he knew her.

  That was what it was – he longed to be near Emry. The real Emry. He wanted to know what it was like to sit and talk with her in person. He wanted to hear the sound of her voice. He wanted to watch her smile.

  But more than anything, Declan yearned to no longer be alone.

  :::::

  Emry sat in the middle of a grand ballroom. It was large and spacious. The floor was tiled in white marble, and its sage green walls were so tall she couldn’t see the ceiling clearly. Really, she could barely make out the edges of the ballroom. White mist swirled around the perimeter of the room as if they were her shadows. She sat, as far as she could tell, in the center of the ballroom on the floor – her dress fanned out around her.