Entwined Paths (Swift Shadows Book 2)

by M. L. Greye

  But it didn’t matter, because Emry was most definitely not in love with a made-up man.

  She didn’t love the way his teal eyes sparkled every time he teased her. She didn’t love the way he smiled out one side of his mouth right before he leaned in to kiss her. She didn’t love the feel of his imaginary arms around her. She didn’t love the way he smelled. She didn’t love how charming and witty he could be. She didn’t love how he made her feel warm all over when he looked at her. And she absolutely did not love how great of a kisser he was. Because he wasn’t real.

  None of it was real. It was all just wishful thinking. A very cruel joke her subconscious was playing on her. Nothing more.

  So when Emry finished braiding her hair for the night and slipped beneath her covers, she was not hoping tonight would be a Declan night. She didn’t have any sort of nervous-excited feeling roiling through her stomach as her head hit her pillow. She didn’t urge herself to fall to sleep fast. Because that would have been ridiculous of her.

  Yet, as she did drift off to sleep, she swore she breathed in his scent, and no amount of rationalization could hide her smile or how her heart beat just a tiny bit faster. Oh yes, Emry was in huge trouble.

  But then the darkness of her room gave way to a moonlit desert, and she found herself no longer caring. Because there, perched on one of the many sand dunes surrounding her, was Declan with his back to her – his gaze on the horizon, on the moon. Her mouth quirked up into a smirk as she made the short climb up the sand to join him at the dune’s crest.

  He had to have heard her coming, but he didn’t turn. As she sank down beside him, she realized it wasn’t the moon that had caught his attention. He was staring at the bright flashes of blue light in the distance.

  The aether. Lightning, but not lightning. Utterly soundless.

  Thin wisps of clouds formed and unformed in the sky above the desert. The clouds appeared for a few seconds to release blinding blue bolts into the sand before dissolving a heartbeat later into empty air. The aether would then repeat itself – again and again in unpredictable disarray.

  She and Declan were at the edge of The Flatlands. Emry watched as thousands of bolts filled the horizon one after the other – a constant barrage, stretching along it for as far as she could see. Declan sat beside her in silence, transfixed.

  “Have you ever seen the aether before?” Emry asked quietly.

  She had. Once. While staying in Acoba, Emry had made Trez take her to see the phenomenon for herself. The aether was something she’d never forget.

  “No,” he replied without turning. “Have you?”

  Emry nodded. “Disturbing, isn’t it?”

  No one knew how the aether storms began. That knowledge had been lost during the Silver Reign, which was supposedly when they’d first appeared. Five hundred years ago.

  “I didn’t realize the aether…” His voice trailed off and he shook his head. “He modeled his lightning after it.”

  “Who?” Emry blinked.

  “Nobody.” Declan glanced down at her, offering her a crooked smile. The light from either the moon or the aether reflected on his eyes, making them gleam. And his face–

  “You shaved.” She reached out and brushed her fingers over his smooth cheek.

  He grunted. “It wasn’t my doing.”

  “Then, who-”

  “Do you like it?” He asked suddenly, cutting her off – startling her.

  “Yes,” she replied slowly, confused by his interruption.

  “Me too.” He turned back to the flashes of light. “If it were up to me, I’d never grow another beard for as long as I live.”

  She stared at him. “Why wouldn’t it be up to you?”

  It took a minute for Declan to respond. When he finally did, it wasn’t to answer her question. “My favorite color used to be red. But now, all red makes me think of is blood and anguish … and fury.” He paused, pulling up his legs to rest his arms over his knees. “Now I like gray – like a stormy sky. Gray is the color of spite and rebellion … and courage.”

  Emry could feel her mouth opening and closing as his words settled into her. She didn’t know what to say. What he’d said … it’d felt like a secret. A confession.

  She ran through about twenty different responses in her head. Yet, all that managed to come out was, “I like blue.”

  Declan released a short laugh and leaned his shoulder against her own. He kissed the top of her head. “Then blue is the color of freedom.”

  “Freedom,” she blurted. “Why freedom?”

  He smiled down at her, his eyes sad. “Because that’s what you are, aren’t you?”

  Emry didn’t get the chance to reply before he dissolved into swirling mist on a midnight breeze.

  :::::

  For Autumn’s Eve, Emry finally returned home – after a long summer living with Warks and his family. It’d been long but fruitful.

  Emry had acquired the allegiance of the Mid, Kruth, and Enn militaries. All thanks to Warks, Greggin, and Levric – her three original Committee members. Over the summer, her Committee had grown to include a few more, and her Eyes were practically their own legion, run by Warks. A few of his previous employees had been given promotions as well.

  Leigha was now The Mistress’s general over the Midlands forces. Her twin, Sienna, had gotten herself engaged to Hammond. Together they oversaw Emry’s communications. Jonis had somehow managed to weasel himself into command over the Enn troops. Greggin was naturally over Glavenryl, but Emry had tacked on overseeing all of her generals to his position.

  The Mistress was now discussed in every region among both upper and lower nobility alike. That was a win in and of itself. She wasn’t brought up in the palace, though. No noble wanted to be caught spreading rumors of a traitor in front of the king – to Emry’s great disappointment. A part of her still hoped her father would notice the unrest in their nation and do something about it.

  The day after Emry arrived home, she set up a Heerth tutor with her father. It’d been Warks’s idea – a way to communicate directly with her on an almost daily basis while she lived in the palace. Even though Emry’s Heerth was perfectly fine, she talked her father into hiring her a tutor so as to keep up the language. She’d told him she didn’t want to forget it, which was true. Yet, the tutor she hired was not an instructor. Yes, the woman was from Heerth, but she was also an honorary member of Emry’s Eyes. One who had been thoroughly vetted by Warks – to keep The Mistress’s secrets. All she knew was that The Mistress and the Princess Emerald were in constant communication.

  The less people who knew Emry’s true identity the better. It was why Emry would be sure to steer clear of the only one man within the entire palace who spoke Heerth during her “lessons.” In fact, she’d be away from everyone. The palace garden was to be her classroom. There, she and her informant could wander freely without having to worry about who overheard.

  Her tutor was to start in three days. In order to find the least populated paths, Emry had decided to venture out on a stroll with her sister that morning. Currently, they were meandering about beneath some myrtles. Emry strode alongside Cit, with her new Knight, Freddick Zembe, trailing about twelve feet behind them.

  Freddick was black-eyed with lavender flecks. His skin was rich and dark, and he sported a long russet colored braid down his back in typical Glav fashion. On most days, he twisted his braid into a bun at the nape of his neck. He was tall, lean, and muscular. And strikingly handsome. His face was the sort that made one do a double-take. At least, Emry had taken a second look the first time she’d laid eyes on him. Now he was her sister’s Knight.

  Her sister had a Knight. Why did it feel so weird?

  Emry tossed a glance over her shoulder at the Glav before returning her attention to Citrine. “How do you like your Knight?” She asked quietly. “Do you get along?”

  Cit nodded, a bright grin lighting her face. “Oh, he’s splendid. He’s easy to talk to, and kind. I’m so glad he w
as made my Knight and not that horrid Kruth. He always smelt of sour milk and ale.”

  The Kruth really had. Emry remembered. She’d danced once with him during Citrine’s Knight’s Ball. Emry wasn’t sure if the man had ever bathed. At Cit’s description of Freddick, she smiled. “That’s good to hear. I was worried for you. Being forced to live in such close quarters with a stranger doesn’t exactly sound exhilarating.”

  “Cit!”

  Both Emry and her sister whirled at the use of Citrine’s nickname. No one else in the palace used it. Not even their father. But then, just beyond Freddick, Piran came walking towards them.

  Emry pulled to a stop, and Cit did the same, albeit hesitantly. Emry frowned at her sister as Piran joined them. Piran dipped into a quick bow – a wide grin on his face as his shoulder-length, chestnut brown hair dipped forward into his face, hiding his eyes as he bowed. Unlike his mother, his eyes were base purple and spotted in pink. He straightened and exclaimed, “It’s so good to see you back, Emry.”

  “It’s good to see you again, Piran.” Emry meant it. There was just something about the man that Emry liked. It had to be that he was genuine. Not once had he ever tried to coerce either princess into a conversation. He was what he was and that was enough for him – the only son of a Duke. Perhaps the title had something to do with his confidence.

  Piran turned to Citrine. “That is a lovely gown you have on, Cit.”

  Her dress was almost the same exact shade as Piran’s eyes. Emry let out a surprised laugh as Cit flushed. “Thank you. My maid chose it for me.”

  “Of course she did.” If Piran had been Kruth, Emry was sure he would have winked right then. “Have either of you seen my mother today? Her new rug arrived.”

  Cit’s face shifted into an even brighter shade of red. An odd reaction. Emry blinked and asked Piran, “You came all the way to the palace to let your mother know about a new rug? Wouldn’t sending a servant have sufficed?”

  “It’s a replacement rug,” Cit muttered in explanation. “I singed the old one last week when I went for my lesson.”

  Piran was teasing Cit, Emry realized with a start. She doubted his presence had anything to do with a rug or possibly even his mother. His coming probably had everything to do with her sister. Emry grinned at that thought. “It must have been very special to your mother for her to have replaced it so quickly.”

  “For my mother, the rug was not as favored as her protégé,” Piran replied, his eyes lively.

  Citrine grunted. “Such flattery.”

  “My mother adores you,” he protested.

  “You exaggerate.” She laughed. “She tolerates me, especially when I burn her favorite rug.”

  Emry watched the exchange silently, deciding to see where it led. She’d never seen Piran act this way with anyone. He’d always been comfortable with her and Cit, but this … Piran cared for Citrine.

  He’d also noticed Emry’s scrutiny. He cleared his throat and dropped into another bow. “Well, I must be off to find my mother.”

  “Until the next, Piran,” Emry and Cit said at the same time.

  Once Piran was out of earshot, Emry turned to her sister. “What was that?”

  “What was what?” Cit lifted an eyebrow. Something Emry couldn’t do, and she knew it.

  “You were flirting with Piran,” Emry relied.

  Cit’s eyes darted to Freddick, who had dropped back to almost thirty feet away. She blushed again. “Piran made a formal suit with Father to court me.”

  Emry grinned. “That’s wonderful!”

  She winced. “I told Father to refuse.”

  “What? Why?” Emry stared at her. “I thought the whole reason you wanted to have a Trials in the first place was to encourage suitors.”

  “It was.” Cit crafted a ball of flame in one hand before she began tossing it back and forth between her hands. It was her nervous habit.

  “Then, why did you refuse Piran?” Emry frowned. “You obviously like him.”

  At that, Cit stiffened. “I don’t feel like we would be a good fit.”

  “Have you given him a chance?” Emry had to hold back a grunt. “How would you even know if you haven’t let him try.”

  Cit glanced down at her hands – at the fireball. “I suppose.”

  Emry watched it as well. “Cit, give Piran a chance. You should consider his suit more seriously. He’s a good man, from a good family. What more could you ask for?”

  “Love,” Cit retorted.

  She rolled her eyes. “You do realize love comes during a courtship, not before?”

  “Fine,” Cit groaned. “I’ll tell Father I’ve reconsidered.”

  “You should.” Emry grimaced at the sudden ache within her. A jealous twang. Not of Piran and Cit, but of the possibility of something more between them. Emry wanted that for herself. Someday. With someone else. “Really give Piran a chance. Don’t go in assuming he wouldn’t be good for you. Allow him to prove otherwise.”

  “I will,” Cit said a touch too quickly. She glanced over her shoulder again at Freddick. When their eyes met, she gave him a smile. Then, she sucked in the flames into her hand and linked arms with Emry. “I’m so glad you’re back. I haven’t had anyone to complain to but Freddick. Half the time he has no idea who I’m talking about.”

  Emry chuckled. She was fully aware of her sister’s change in topic but was ready to drop the subject of Piran for now. Loosing her breath in a rush, Emry smiled. “It’s good to be home.”

  :::::

  “Rand,” Simon barked out as Declan and Rand passed by the rounds on their way to the mess hall.

  Declan halted as Rand did the same. Slowly, both of them turned. Simon had just released them to eat not fifteen minutes ago. Their faces must have shown their displeasure because Simon smirked. “Pite needs you to hold his Blue beneath the water.”

  Pite’s Blue. He meant Fiona. She was his only Blue. Declan felt Rand stiffen beside him. He glanced at the Gray and saw his pupils flare.

  Rand didn’t want to do it. Simon must had discovered Rand with Fiona somehow. This was how it began – exactly what Rand had tried to avoid. Declan had to stop it.

  “Why Rand?” Declan grunted and whirled to his Main. “When can I get my hands on the slippery Blue? She bests me every day on the round. Just once I’d like to lord something over her.”

  Simon blinked, looking mildly surprised. Yet, he replied, “If you want it so bad, you can be the one to drown the Blue.”

  “Good.” Declan nodded once to Simon before heading to the river’s edge. He caught Rand’s gaze as he passed. There was no relief on his face, but his body had relaxed. Declan didn’t let his eyes linger. He shifted his attention to the river.

  A minute later, he was beside Pite and Fiona. “Simon send you?” Pite asked with a frown.

  “He did.” Declan didn’t wait for instructions. He waded into the cool water until it reached his hips. He’d never held a Blue beneath the river, but he’d seen it done more than enough times to know what was expected of him.

  At the sight of Declan in the water, Fiona flinched. He’d never seen her flinch before. Her reaction made him want to wince. He forced his face into a blank stare. He didn’t want Pite to take his emotions into account – make it harder for either of them. Fiona took a deep breath and joined Declan. The water went up to her waist.

  “Begin,” Fiona’s Main snapped.

  Declan plunged her under. For a second, Fiona watched him from beneath, holding his gaze. Then, she disappeared out of his hands. Before he could react, she was back only a heartbeat later. Declan tossed a glance up at Pite. He hadn’t noticed. Honestly, Declan wouldn’t have caught it if he hadn’t been a Teal.

  Fiona stared up at him again before disappearing once more, only to return almost immediately after. She did this six more times until finally she gripped onto his wrists. Her eyes widened – she was short on breath. Her nails clawed into his skin, but still her Main didn’t call her up. Declan gritted hi
s teeth as she began to flail under the water. This was why he’d agreed to it – so that Rand wouldn’t have to be the one holding her under.

  Just as Fiona began to go limp in his arms, her Main ordered, “Stop.”

  Declan yanked her out at a Teal’s pace. She sputtered and coughed, gripping onto Declan for support. He wanted to beg her forgiveness, but instead, he stood still, permitting her to cling to him. He didn’t wrap his arms around her or pat her on the back. He became the statue Pite expected him to be.

  It took her awhile to regain her breath. Her Main grinned smugly down at her from the river bank. “No ‘again’ today?”

  Still Declan didn’t move. He merely waited for instructions, keeping his face impassive – forcing back his disgust. Slowly, Fiona lifted her head – her white hair plastered to her honey skin. With hatred burning in her eyes, she rasped, “Again.”

  Pite sneered in pleasure as he waved a hand at the river. To Declan he said, “You heard her. Again.”

  An hour later, after Pite had finally released him from dunking Fiona and he’d finished his midday meal, Declan burst into Fiona’s tent. “What was that?” He spat out.

  She was sprawled on top of her furs, staring up at the canvas ceiling. “What was what?” She asked evenly.

  “Where did you go?”

  Fiona sighed. “Far.”

  He stared at her. “How far?”

  “I do not know its name,” she replied, her voice flat. “A harbor of some sort.”

  Declan sank down onto the tent’s floor. He couldn’t believe it. “A harbor? You went all the way to a harbor in less than a heartbeat? That’s faster than me.”

  “Travel by land is slower.” She shrugged her shoulders.

  She was faster than he was. How hard would it be to be Fiona? To be able to travel so far but unable to stay because the moment her Main noticed her absence he would kill her? Declan grunted. Actually, he had an idea of what it was like. Just a slower, land version of the feeling.