Entwined Paths (Swift Shadows Book 2)

by M. L. Greye

  As the third prince, she outranked him. Their children would take her name and would live in Enlennd since Trezim wouldn’t be ruling his own country.

  Politically, Trezim would make an exceptional match for her. For once, Onyx’s advisors had an idea that actually made sense to her. That didn’t mean Emry would go through with their plans, though.

  Emry had decided when the time came for her to marry, she would choose her own spouse. Her fate was not in the hands of her father’s greedy advisors. A couple of years ago she had felt differently – helpless and out of control of her own life.

  Times had changed. She’d changed. No one could force her to wed. Not even her own father, the king.

  Yet, Trezim was a good man. A real man. Sure, when Emry’s eyes glowed and she spat out shadows, he grew a little nervous, but who didn’t? Everyone who knew her for what she was feared her in some way or another. It was just how it was.

  Emry could honestly do far worse than Trez. He was handsome, loyal, and a good friend. With him, she could find happiness. Probably.

  And maybe over time Emry would finally stop dreaming of Declan. Because if she did, then she wouldn’t have the problem of comparing a made-up person with every man she met.

  Trez was real. The Declan she’d concocted in her sleep was not.

  The sooner she accepted that, the better.

  :::::

  Everything was the same ... and different. Declan peered into the forest around him. His feet knew the way home, letting him observe the trees and underbrush he passed. He knew these woods. He wasn’t far now.

  Home. He was going home. After more than a year as a captive, he was finally on his way home. He just hoped his home was still there.

  When he’d woken that morning on the cold ground, cocooned within a shell of warmth thanks to Rand, the initial sense of dread that had been his first emotion every morning hit him so hard he’d bolted upright.

  It’d taken him a few deep breaths to realize where he was – what had happened. To remind him he was free. The sight of Fiona encased in Rand’s arms a few feet away had helped.

  They were out. They’d gotten out. Free.

  They’d bandaged Rand’s legs the best they could, but realistically he needed a Ruby to mend his muscle damage. Fiona had agreed to take him to one. They’d travel through the water – Fiona dragging him in short bursts so Rand could take breaths.

  As Declan said his goodbyes, he’d asked if he’d ever see them again. Fiona told him anytime he wished to speak with her, all he had to do was place his hand over a body of water and say, “Find me, Fiona.”

  Declan had no idea her abilities were so expansive and told her as much. To which she’d laughed and quipped they weren’t. She would have to track him. Before he’d been able to ask how, she’d pricked his palm with Rand’s knife and licked up a drop of blood. Like a Back Rube.

  Both he and Rand had stared at her in horror, but she’d merely shrugged her shoulders and said, “Now I’ll know every time you touch a river or pond or ocean and be able to find you.”

  “Is that all you’ll be able to do?” Rand had demanded, still looking disgusted.

  Fiona had frowned. “I’m not a Back Rube. All I can do is track him.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me that was why you licked my cut weeks ago?” Rand had asked her quietly, surprising Declan.

  “I didn’t think you were ready to hear I never wanted to lose you,” she’d replied.

  Declan had left them not long after that, promising to summon Fiona in a week. To check in and see how she and Rand fared. He’d then set his sights in the direction of Anexia and began his journey home. At Teal speed.

  That had been a couple hours ago. Declan was now running low on energy – after a night of battling and very little sleep. He hadn’t eaten anything in nearly twenty hours. It was beginning to show. His legs were starting to struggle moving. He’d been pacing himself the best he could, but there was only so much he could do on an empty stomach.

  But he was so close. He could feel it – could see it with every step he took. These trees – barren as they were – looked achingly familiar. He was mere minutes away.

  Home. He was almost there. Home.

  The word was a symphony in his head – urging him onward. The sun would be setting soon. He would make it there before it did. Just as he’d hoped.

  Then, all at once, Declan was through the trees, and his parents’ house appeared in front of him. Exactly as he remembered it.

  Declan nearly tripped at the sight. He barely made it up to the wide front porch before he sank to his knees – one hand on the wood floor supporting him up, the other against the front door.

  He was panting from running all day with few stops. As he knelt there, his breathing became even more ragged. He was here. He was actually here.

  During the past year, he’d worried he’d never see this place again. Had never let himself hope.

  Slowly, his heart thundering in his ears, Declan drew back his hand, balled it into a fist, and knocked loudly on the door. Twice.

  Then he waited.

  Declan had wanted to burst inside, but was concerned his parents might had moved away. It was unlikely, but a year was a long time. So much had happened to him. He could only imagine what his parents had been up to. Maybe they’d relocated to be closer to one of his sisters.

  No one came to answer the door. Declan stayed planted in place until his knees began to ache. Still, he didn’t rise.

  He wasn’t ready to go into his old village and ask around for where his parents were. He wasn’t ready to answer the questions of people he used to know. He’d just wanted to see his mother again.

  Releasing a sigh, Declan leaned his forehead against the door and shut his eyes. He needed to get up.

  But in a minute. He needed another minute to deal with the sharp stab of disappointment. Then he’d go.

  A gasp at his back made him whirl. Llydia stood about ten feet away, hands covering her mouth. Relief washed through Declan, followed immediately by joy. “Mom,” he breathed.

  His mother collapsed to her knees as a strangled sob escaped out of her. Hot tears slid down Declan’s face. He closed the distance between them and flung his arms around his mother's neck – like he used to do as a child.

  “It’s you,” she cried into his shoulder, her words muffled. “My Declan. You’re home. You’re home.”

  Declan couldn’t respond. His throat burned, and his tears fell freely. He just squeezed his eyes shut and held his mother tight. He was home. Finally, he was home.

  CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

  His first time taking a shower in his parents’ home, Declan had to make the water scalding hot to avoid that dark void. The bathing room had been a new addition to the house. A very nice addition.

  Here he could adjust the temperature of the water, not simply use whatever water was released through his shower like in his A-frame. It was a minor luxury, but it was the embodiment of how he felt.

  He was home but it no longer felt like the sanctuary of his childhood, or even just before he was Stolen. The walls that had once felt safe seemed so weak and thin – so easily breakable. He’d survived a portion of the darkness within the world.

  Even after Ewan’s death, he’d still been so blind. So small and helpless. And so slow. He was different now, and the house that once was his haven was nothing more than twigs Rand could send flying with one strong gust.

  As Declan scrubbed his skin raw, he realized he couldn’t stay here forever. Once he settled down into normal life again, he needed to find a place of his own. Somewhere he would actually be as alone as he felt.

  Away from the village he’d been raised in. Away from the questions about where he’d been that would most likely pester him every time he walked outside. But before he decided where to go … he had to see her – Emry.

  The woman who’d kept him breathing. Stopped him from throwing himself into harm. Made him hope for better days. His l
ight in the darkness.

  Emry. He would find her. The real her. Not the one his mind had created.

  He needed to see what she was like – if the woman in his dreams was anything like the actual person. Because if she was ... he’d never leave her side again.

  One day, he promised himself. One day he’d see her again, and he’d settle down right beside her.

  Once Declan was finished with his shower and dressed, he joined his father out in the sitting room. He lowered himself onto one of the two stuffed sofas – the one adjacent to his father’s – and placed his hands on his knees. It felt so odd to be sitting on something cushioned. He’d forgotten how comfortable it was.

  “Did Mom go to bed?” He asked Levric after a moment.

  His father nodded. “She wanted to stay up but kept struggling to keep her eyes open. She’s still recovering from Night’s Crown.”

  Right. That was just last night. Not an age ago, despite Declan feeling like it was.

  He stared down at his hands. He wasn’t sure what to do with them. What did normal people do with them while they talked? Declan had forgotten somehow.

  “I can’t believe you’re here, Declan.” Levric’s voice broke on his name. He pressed his thumb and pointer finger on one hand into his eyes. “It’s so good to see you again.”

  Declan watched this rare display of emotion from his father and tried not to wince. “Why haven’t you asked where I’ve been? Do you already know?”

  Levric sucked in a breath and dropped his hand. The edges of his eyes were red. “Your mother and I have our suspicions.”

  “Which are?” Declan tried to keep his tone flat rather than the wavering mess he expected to come out.

  “We thought you were Stolen,” Levric told him. “Or dead.”

  Declan flinched. “Being Stolen was a fate worse than death.”

  “So it’s true,” Levric said, his voice so quiet it was practically a whisper. “How are you here?”

  Again, Declan wasn’t sure what to do with his hands. He settled on folding them in his lap. “I escaped. Last night.”

  Levric swore – something else that was rare for him. “I’m sorry, son. I’m so sorry you had to endure that.”

  He wasn’t sure how much his father knew about the living conditions of The Stolen, but from his father’s reaction, he assumed he was at least aware of a portion of it. Declan scrubbed his face with his hands. It’d been so long since he’d shaved that feeling his smooth skin startled him. Like so many things around him. This was his home and still looked the same in so many ways. Yet, it’d changed while he was gone. Like the shower.

  “Has business been good at the forge?” Declan asked.

  His question made Levric blink. “About the same as always.”

  “Oh.” He frowned. “I just figured it’d picked up. You put in a shower.”

  Levric grunted. “That wasn’t my doing. That was a gift from The Mistress, our new leader of the Rioters.”

  Declan raised an eyebrow. “Who?”

  :::::

  Three days after Night’s Crown, Emry was in full swing of her palace routine. She’d spent the morning out in the frozen garden, receiving updates from her “Heerth tutor.” She was glad to hear her Committee had all taken a few days off to enjoy the holiday with their families as she’d suggested. She didn’t want her people feeling as though they were being run into the ground. That was bad for morale. Also, it was just exhausting. Everyone deserved a break once in awhile.

  Following her dialect lessons, as she called them with her family, Emry had slipped out disguised as a stable hand to the Ranga Pit. The disguise was now necessary. Her father had his guards combing the woods for her daily. He’d ordered her several times to her face not to leave the palace grounds.

  As far as he knew, she never did. She simply disappeared sometimes for hours at a time, depending on the day. She had yet to be caught, so the accusations at this point were circumstantial. Not that she ever would be caught. One could not catch that which one could not see. Shadows were hard to discern.

  Today, she’d returned to the palace a little early. There was to be some soiree this evening her father wished her to attend. She needed to be back in time to ready herself for it – both physically and mentally. Fanny would naturally help her with the physical portion of the preparation. The woman was magnificent with hair. Emry would just take a quick shower and then call for Fanny to begin.

  About twenty seconds after Emry slid through the door to her rooms, though, Cit marched in. Without Freddick, for once. She must had left him out in the hallway. “Where have you been?” Cit demanded.

  Emry frowned at her sister. “Outside.”

  “In this weather?” Citrine winced as she took a seat on Emry’s settee. “That sounds miserable.”

  The Ranga Pit had been warm enough. Emry just shrugged. She had not told her sister about the place. Cit assumed Emry simply paraded through the woods surrounding the palace when she went out. Emry could have brought it up a hundred times, but … Maybe Emry was being a coward. Yet, she was worried her sister would tell their father and he would do something rash, like shut the Ranga Pit down.

  Cit’s eyes dropped to her hands. They were in her lap, plucking at the green fabric of her day gown. “I have news.”

  “Oh?” Emry leaned her hip against the side of the settee opposite of Cit. “What sort of news?”

  “Great news.” Cit’s smile was forced.

  “You’re really selling me on it,” Emry replied dryly. “What’s your news?”

  “Three nights ago, Freddick and I eloped.”

  It took a second for Cit’s words to register. “You did what?” Emry blurted, stunned.

  “I’m married.” Cit’s smile finally touched her eyes.

  “To your Knight.” Emry could feel herself gaping. “You’ve married your Knight. Have you lost your mind?”

  Citrine stiffened. “Freddick is a good man.”

  “I don’t care if he is or not,” Emry retorted. “Do you have any notion of what you’ve done? Tell me, have you told Father? Were you planning on making some grand reveal to the Court?”

  Her sister’s eyes narrowed. “I was going to tell Father at dinner.”

  “Don’t.” Emry shook her head. She was fighting the urge to scream. This was the most impulsive thing she’d ever heard of from the world’s least impulsive woman. What had gotten into her sister? “Don’t tell him. Not yet.”

  “Why not?” Cit bristled. “I’m not ashamed of my choice.”

  Well, you should be. Emry had to bite back her words. She took a deep breath, trying to calm herself. “If you announce you married your Knight, everyone will know I’m the heir, and Father will be furious.”

  “No, the whole purpose of hiding our ages is so I can marry before you and no one will care,” Cit protested.

  “Think, Cit.” Emry sank onto the settee, no longer able to stand. “What future queen would feel free to elope with her Knight? That’s a sure sign you’re the younger one. You don’t feel the weight of finding a consort worthy of ruling with you. Everyone will know.”

  “Or, it’s a sign I married for love, and as a possible future queen everyone would assume Freddick is merely my consort.” Cit snapped back.

  Emry frowned. “Do you love him?”

  “I do.” Cit straightened in her seat. “Freddick is kind, brave, and handsome. He’s everything I’ve ever wanted for myself.”

  “Everything?” Emry leaned back, letting her breath out in a rush. “Is Freddick the reason why you didn’t give Piran a real chance?”

  Her sister rolled her eyes. “What is it with you and Piran?”

  “I know him a lot better than Freddick,” Emry muttered.

  “That’s just because you’ve known Piran longer.” Cit grunted. “If you like Piran so much, why don’t you pursue him?”

  “Because I’m the heir.” Emry sighed and rubbed her eyes. “Piran will be a Duke. Besides, he doesn’
t want to be my consort.”

  “Who would you have as your consort?” Cit asked, her voice hesitant and soft. “Trezim?”

  Emry let out a short laugh. “Declan? I don’t know. Maybe.”

  “Declan?” Cit blinked. “I said Trezim.”

  “So did l.” Emry froze in place. She hadn’t said Declan, had she?

  “No, you said Declan.” Cit eyed her suspiciously. “Why did you say D-”

  “It was just a slip of the tongue,” Emry interrupted, cutting her sister off. “I was talking about Trezim.”

  “Alright,” Cit said slowly. “But as for Freddick and me…”

  “Tell Father if you wish,” Emry replied after a moment. “Let him decide on when to inform the public.”

  Cit winced. “Is that all you have to say?”

  “I hope you and Freddick have a happy life together.” Emry didn’t try to force a smile, but she did wish Cit to be happy. She’d made her choice. Emry didn’t agree with it, but it was done. They’d all have to live with it.

  “Thank you.” Cit grinned. “As you get to know him better, I think you’ll really like him. One day, when you experience real love, I think you’ll understand why I did what I did.”

  Real love. The words were like a punch to Emry’s stomach.

  Her obsession with dream Declan was far from real, not that Cit knew about any of her dreams. Still, Emry needed to let him go. What she felt for him wasn’t real.

  It was infatuation with her own imagination. It was borderline psychotic and definitely pathetic. Loving a dream was not befitting of a princess or The Mistress.

  Emry didn’t have a response for Cit that wouldn’t come out sounding snappish or bitter, so she just nodded. Her sister was married. Forever joined with her Glav Knight.

  Greggin would be pleased to hear one of the princesses chose a Glav. And he would be hearing about this. All of her Committee would be told. Freddick was now a Jewel – Citrine’s consort, but still a Jewel. Emry was absolutely going to get to know him better.