Entwined Paths (Swift Shadows Book 2)

by M. L. Greye

  When they were done with their hair, they moved onto their beards. Both he and Rand had been keeping their beards short enough that no one could grab hold of it during a duel. Still, they had enough facial hair between them to cover a full head. Because they were limited to Rand’s swords for razors, they both moved carefully, scraping as close to their skin as they could manage.

  Fifteen minutes later, Declan stared at his reflection in the chipped mirror. He couldn't remember the last time he’d looked this way – short hair, spiky and pointing in every direction. Hardly any scruff. It was a familiar sight, but also unfamiliar. Somehow he looked different than how he remembered himself.

  Beside him, Rand seemed to come to the same conclusion about himself. “I look weird.”

  “I don’t need you to be pretty,” Declan drawled. “Unless you’re worried Fiona won’t like how much of a baby-face you are.”

  Rand snorted. Anyone with half an eye could see neither he nor Declan could be mistaken for callow youths. This camp stole innocence along with lives. “I’d like to think Fiona isn’t into me for my face.”

  “Good for you, keeping a positive attitude on your lack of good looks.” Declan clapped his friend on the shoulder.

  “I think you’ve been in this camp too long, qippo,” Rand retorted. “It’s thwarting your judgement.”

  “Then, how about we get out of here?” Declan couldn't stop his slow grin.

  “I thought you’d never ask.” Rand pulled free the other blade on his back and cracked his neck. “Fiona should be in position by now.”

  The Gray strode out of Declan’s tiny bathing room. Declan trailed after him, leaving their clumps of shorn hair on the floor. If everything went according to plan, it’d all be disintegrated by dawn. They paused at Declan’s front door, hesitating.

  This was it. Once they went out that door, there would be no turning back. Either to death or to glory or to horrors unimaginable if the Back Rubes caught them. Declan was already beginning to sweat. This was by far the biggest risk he’d ever faced.

  “You don’t have to do this,” Rand said quietly, eyeing Declan warily. “Not for me.”

  But Declan wanted to do this, and not just for his qippo. He wanted to be free with every fiber of his being. He let out a short laugh and repeated the words he’d once told his dream Emry, “Sometimes it pays to be brave.”

  “Sometimes.” Rand chuckled. “I hope this turns out to be one of those times.”

  Declan rolled his shoulders, loosening them, as he released his breath out in a rush. “Try not to get yourself killed.”

  “Try not to get yourself captured,” Rand shot back.

  “Impossible.” He smirked. “They’d have to catch me first.”

  Rand inhaled deep. “Here we go.”

  With that, Rand slipped out the door into the frozen night. Declan counted to sixty three times before following after him. As planned, he needed to wait three whole minutes – to be sure there was enough distance between them. At the beginning, Declan was to go unnoticed in the shadows.

  Outside, moonlight reflected off of the roofs and snow. Moonlight. Declan nearly stumbled. The clouds had thinned above his head, permitting a view of the full moon and stars. He tried not to gawk. They were beautiful.

  Rand had let his clouds part – for them. For their venture. On Night’s Crown.

  It was Night’s Crown – Declan’s favorite night of the year. At least, if his dream Emry could be believed. He couldn’t quite explain it, but as he stared up at the moon and glimmering array of stars, he knew she was right. Unbeknown to him, they’d chosen the longest night of the year to make their escape. A very fitting night.

  Just then, lightning scorched the air, and a deafening blast of thunder immediately followed. That was the signal. Rand had begun. Three more bolts ruptured through the camp – one after the other. All aimed at the same target. The mess hall.

  The camp began to rouse. Startled shouts and lights popped up through tents and A-frames. But more importantly, smoke was billowing from the mess hall. It’d caught on fire. That was bound to attract the attention of the Back Rubes, which meant they’d be focused on Rand and not Declan or Fiona.

  Stolen were now streaming out into the snow, running for the fire. From Declan’s place amid the A-frames, he couldn’t see which building was now in flames. Yet, he knew it was the mess hall. The closest building to the river where Fiona should be already waiting.

  As more and more Stolen ran past him, Declan forced his feet to move at a leisurely pace. Despite the coiled tension within him, begging him to tap into his speed, he had to walk like a non-Teal. Any faster and he could draw his Main’s focus away from Rand. That would bring complications. For their plan to work, Rand had to play the bait.

  As Declan rounded the last A-frame blocking his view of the mess hall and adjacent rounds, dread spread through him. Already there was a complication. Rand was in the wrong location.

  The mess hall was blazing. Fiona’s work earlier that day had turned out perfect. She’d drawn out every bit of moisture from the roof and support beams – making it into a literal box of kindling. The building hadn’t stood a chance at surviving Rand’s lightning. Its flames now lit half the camp.

  Just as Declan and his friends had hoped, using Rand as bait was distracting the Back Rubes from ordering the Blues and Oranges to put out the fire. Really, though, using Rand was distracting them from ordering anyone at all. Or noticing anyone else.

  Declan slid along the edge of the gathered Stolen, just out of sight from the Back Rubes. He was pleased to find they’d all come out to witness the show for themselves. As part of his months of preparation for tonight, he’d familiarized himself with every single Back Rube in the camp.

  “I thought we were beyond this, Rand.” Simon growled.

  Rand was on his knees, blood seeping down his face from his nose. He’d dropped his hands to his side – his fists still clenched around the hilts of his blades. Simon stood a few steps away from him, clothes askew. He’d obviously dressed in a hurry. Rand cried out as his back arched – from whatever internal pain his Mains caused him. Declan winced and scanned the crowd on the opposite side of the camp from him for Fiona.

  The Back Rubes had downed Rand too soon. He was supposed to have drawn them to the edge of the river – to get them as close as possible to water so Fiona could help Declan. Instead, Rand was almost directly in front of the mess hall – a good fifteen yards from the river.

  He couldn’t find Fiona. He sincerely hoped it was just because she was hiding and not because she’d been discovered or wasn’t there at all. Fear could do crazy things to people.

  “What was your plan here, Rand?” Simon’s gaze drifted to the mess hall. “Were you going to try burning down the camp again? Failing once not enough to teach you your lesson?”

  Rand’s chest was heaving, his body shaking. For once, Rand was permitting his hatred to show on his face. He glared at Simon with enough loathing the Back Rube should have been the one trembling. He spat out blood at Simon’s feet and sneered. “The only thing I’d like to burn down is you.”

  Simon snorted and yanked Rand’s blades free of his hands. “You’re a disgrace to Quirl.” He brought down the blades right into Rand’s thighs.

  Rand roared, and Declan slipped into a cold, dark place. The portion of him that had been created out of necessity this past year. A mindset of calm clarity and speed.

  He’d been told on his very first day in this filthy camp that he’d be crafted into a warrior. Well, he had. The Back Rubes had made him into the fastest Teal alive. And tonight, he would be the fastest Teal in history.

  Slowly, Declan reached behind his back and slid out his blades. There were twenty-seven Back Rubes. He would destroy them all. For every Stolen robbed from their home. For those who had bled and died on these rounds.

  For Fiona. For Rand. For himself.

  Declan tapped his speed and dove for Simon.

  In one
swipe of Declan’s arm, Simon’s head launched into the air – severed from his body, his hands still gripping the blades in Rand’s legs. Declan didn’t wait to watch where it landed. He tapped his speed again and began making his way through the cluster of Backwards Rubys. With each one, he went for the neck. Quick deaths they didn’t deserve.

  In less than a second, he’d sliced through ten of them. The saddest part was how incredibly easy it was. None of them could see him coming. He had no idea which of the Back Rubes were Rand's Mains. He just needed to take down as many as possible.

  Two more down. Then Pite appeared before him.

  Fiona’s Main. His death didn’t belong to Declan. His life was Fiona’s to take. Declan didn’t know where Fiona was, but he did know her domain.

  Strapping his blades to his back again as he moved, Declan pivoted to Pite. He hefted the Back Rube over his shoulder, surprised at how light the man was, and ran to the icy river’s edge before dumping him into it. Declan paused, watching Pite wipe water from his face. The river came up to his waist where he stood.

  “You!” Pite blurted, gawking at Declan.

  “I’m not the one you should worry about,” Declan replied evenly.

  Fiona popped up out of the water behind Pite – her white hair plastered to her head. Declan had never noticed how close in height she was to her Main. She wrapped her arms around Pite’s middle and tilted her head so her mouth was near his ear. “Goodbye, Pite,” she hissed and dropped beneath the surface with her Main – as if the ground had given out beneath them.

  Declan twisted in place and was just about to head back to Rand when his insides caught fire. He stumbled forward onto his hands and knees into the snow. Where his skin touched the snow steamed. Sweat dripped down his face and bare arms. He could no longer feel the cold. He was fairly certain this was what it was like to be cooked alive.

  But how? He’d killed Simon. He should have been free. He should have–

  A raspy cackle split the air. Kearns.

  Declan had forgotten about Kearns. For once she hadn’t been standing beside Simon.

  “This is my favorite position to see you in.” Kearns appeared in front of him. She crouched down and gripped onto Declan’s chin, forcing his head upward so he could meet her gaze. Her fingers scorched his already burning skin. Her eyes hardened into near slits. “You will pay for the blood you spilt tonight, Sharpe.”

  He was going to catch on fire. His blood was boiling within his veins. He couldn’t have much time left – he doubted a body could withstand this much heat for long. Kearns didn’t care to keep him alive for punishing. She was going to kill him.

  His vision became splotchy – not with black spots but with bright flares of red. The nerves in his eyes were being fried – like batter in oil. Declan wanted to scream, but he couldn’t find his voice.

  This was it. He’d come this far only to be baked by Kearns. It was depressing and infuriating.

  Worst of all, he’d never get to see Emry again. He’d never know if saving her had been worth it. If his life had been worth it.

  Kearns saw the fear in his face. She grinned, twisting the scar through her lip into a zigzag. She leaned in, putting her face close to his, only inches away, Declan felt her breath smack his face. She was too close. Far too close–

  Declan blinked as the realization hit him. Kearns was too close.

  Mustering what strength he could, grasping down deep, Declan reared his head back and tapped into his speed once more.

  He flung his head forward with everything he had right into her face. He heard a familiar crunch and felt hot blood splatter across his front. The heat in his veins vanished, leaving Declan dizzy. He focused on the Back Rube across from him.

  She’d collapsed into a heap on the snow. Her face was covered in blood, but it wasn’t hollowed in. Her nose was badly smashed, leaning horrifically to one side. Yet, she was still alive. Unconscious, but alive.

  Not waiting a second more, Declan grabbed one of his blades and slid it across her neck. He didn’t cut off her head like he had with Simon. He’d let her bleed out. It was still a more merciful death than she deserved. Than any of the Back Rubes deserved.

  He watched as her life oozed out of her. He knew the moment she died. Some part of him unlocked. For the first time in over a year, he felt entirely himself. He didn't dwell on it, though. Instead, he ran back to where he’d left Rand.

  To Declan’s surprise Fiona was with Rand, dragging him backward toward the river. She’d removed the blades from his legs. Blood soaked his leathers.

  Fiona needed to get him to the river – to their original escape route. That was her responsibility. Declan needed to destroy the rest of Rand’s Mains, if he hadn’t killed them already.

  As he shifted his attention to the existing Back Rubes, Declan discovered the camp had become complete chaos. He might not have gotten all of Rand’s Mains, but he’d taken out the Mains of other Stolen. Those who were free had turned on the remaining Back Rubes.

  Genne was there – her vines strangling the camp’s taskmasters. Teggin – the Pale – was at her side, encasing two other Back Rubes in ice. There were many other Stolen doing the same – fighting and killing the Backwards Rubys. Declan and his friends had started a revolution. One that he finished as he slit the throats of the last four Back Rubes.

  The Stolen were cheering. Some were crying. Others were running toward the river – the camp’s exit. They’d endure the frigid water just to get as far away as possible.

  Fiona was almost to the water with Rand. Declan tossed a glance at Genne, to make sure she didn’t need help, and found her wrapped in Teggin’s arms – kissing so hard they’d make a Ship Lord blush. She was going to be just fine.

  Declan strapped his bloody blades to his back and headed to Fiona.

  She had reached the riverbank. When Declan appeared at her side, she jumped. “How is he?” Declan asked her.

  “In pain,” Rand moaned, opening his eyes.

  “You’re still conscious?” Declan blinked. “Why’d you let her drag you?”

  “He didn’t want to draw the attention from his other Mains,” Fiona replied. She looked past Declan at the camp. “To the pond?”

  “I’ll see you in a minute.” He nodded.

  “We’ll be waiting for you,” Fiona told him and disappeared below the water with Rand.

  Declan stared at the spot they’d been a second before. The water was only a couple inches deep, but they’d dropped below the surface like it was endless.

  He didn’t give the camp one last look. He just turned to the Kruth Mountains he’d traversed many, many times, and gave into his teal eyes, bolting for the pond he’d dreamed of just that night.

  That now felt like ages ago. Like a different life. Declan was free again.

  It was too surreal.

  Less than a minute later, Declan reached the pond. Moonlight shimmered over its surface – snow surrounding it. It looked identical to his dream in an unsettling way.

  But there were Fiona and Rand on its pebbled beach. Declan halted beside them and dropped onto the rocks next to Fiona. Rand on her other side.

  They sat there in silence for a few minutes, listening to the quiet of a winter night. While their minds settled back into place and their breathing calmed.

  Then, slowly, Fiona wrapped one arm around Rand’s shoulders and her other around Declan. He leaned into her embrace and noticed Rand do the same on her other side.

  A moment later, Fiona began to cry. Small quiet sobs at first – growing louder and stronger with each one.

  Her tears were contagious. Declan’s eyes began to burn, and his own tears spilled over. He glanced at Rand and saw streaks down his face as well.

  Fiona noticed. She pulled them both tighter against her. Declan slid an arm around her and reached across to place his hand on Rand’s shoulder, who did the same to him in a makeshift embrace.

  The three of them. Together.

  They’d es
caped. They’d survived. They were free.

  :::::

  Emry jolted awake. One moment she was dreaming about Declan – he’d said he loved her – and the next she was in her room, moonlight streaming in through her open window.

  It was still night. She couldn’t even see a hint of dawn in the sky. Her family was most likely still downstairs in the ballroom, celebrating Night’s Crown. But not Emry.

  Emry was crying.

  Sobs shook her body. Sobs of relief and grief and heartache.

  She couldn’t stop. Her tears kept coming. More and more. She lost her grasp on her power and shadows slipped free, filling the room in swirling tendrils of star-kissed darkness.

  In the privacy of her bedroom, she didn’t care to drag them back in.

  As she watched them glide through the air, she wrapped her arms around her middle, hugging herself. She wasn’t sure what she mourned.

  Was it that Declan would never actually say he loved her back? Was it over her lost sanity? Was it because she truly wished with all her heart that she could one day find a man as perfect as her dream Declan? Or was it for her fear that she never would? Whatever it was, she took a long time to calm down.

  When her tears finally subsided, she laid onto her back and stared up at the canopy of soft white linens above her head, strewn across the beams of her bed.

  Three days ago, her father informed her he wished her to take another trip to Heerth. Not for a year – just a couple months. Maybe three. He hadn’t given her a reason why he wanted her to go, which led her to believe this trip was urged by his advisors – to forge an alliance. Through marriage.

  She knew she couldn’t avoid marriage forever. Most women her age were already wedded or engaged. Still, the thought of being tied to a man based on the choice of her father’s advisors … Emry would rather stab herself. She knew they were thinking of Trezim for her.