Entwined Paths (Swift Shadows Book 2)

by M. L. Greye

  :::::

  As one of two blacksmiths in Declan’s village, his father had always been kept busy with plenty of work. Yet, he’d never hired an apprentice. Growing up, Declan had played that role for a while – until he’d left for border patrol. Even though Levric hadn’t said it, Declan knew in those early days his father was training him to one day take over the forge. As Declan aged, though, he disliked working in just one place more and more. He was a Teal after all. Teals liked to run. Being cooped up in a smithy all day everyday wasn’t for Declan. Levric, seeing this, had ceased urging Declan down his same path years ago.

  If he had insisted, maybe Declan never would have been captured. The Stolen would have been just rumors rather than the worst year of his life. Declan wouldn’t have had to pretend he could just slip back into his life like nothing had changed. Like he hadn’t forged unforgettable friendships with Rand and Fiona. Like he was still the same Declan everyone in his village remembered – his parents included. Too bad Declan would never know.

  He’d been home five days. Five long, surreal days. He felt so out of place. His rhythm was off.

  As awful as his routine in the camp had been, it had still been a routine. Declan needed routine.

  This need for predictable habits was what had driven Declan to his father’s forge for the past two days. He’d rested at home long enough. He required work. Luckily, his father was more than willing to supply Declan with work.

  Today, though, as Declan worked alongside his father, melting iron and crafting horseshoes, he wasn’t sure how to broach the topic that had kept him up the night before. It sounded brash in his own head. He doubted it’d sound much better out loud. Fortunately, his father brought it up for him about halfway through the morning.

  “Will you be returning to your position on the border?” Levric asked, wiping the sweat off his forehead with a rag.

  Declan lowered the mallet in his hand and shook his head. “No, I’ll never go back to the border.” It was a decision he’d made during his first month in the camp.

  Levric dipped his head once. “Then, what is next for you? I know you don’t plan on working in this forge forever.”

  “Actually,” Declan let out a short laugh and paused. He wasn’t sure how his father would take it. Or if he’d even know who he was talking about. “Do you remember Emry DeLune? My friend Ewan’s little sister?”

  His father straightened slightly and frowned. “I do.”

  “While I was in the camp, I didn’t have much to hold onto.” He grimaced. “I did … terrible things to survive. The only way I was able to keep going was by reminding myself I’d done one thing right with my life. I’d saved a life. Emry’s.”

  “You’ve done far more than just one thing right, Declan,” Levric said, his voice low.

  Declan tried not to flinch at the pity in his father’s eyes. He shook his head. This wasn’t the point he was trying to make. He didn’t want Levric to feel sorry for him. He just wanted information. Dream Emry had told him Levric knew where to find her. Declan realized it was highly unlikely his father did know, but maybe he knew how Declan could find her location.

  He took a deep breath. “I want to find her – Emry. I want to see if the girl I saved lived to have a good life. If she’s happy. I just want to know how she’s been.”

  Levric eyed him warily for a moment. His silence filled Declan with a sudden dread. If his father didn’t know what had become of her, he would have said as much right away. This hesitation meant he knew something Declan did not but wasn’t willing to just throw it at him. He wasn’t sure how Declan would take it. Which meant that Emry was…

  “Son, the girl you knew – that girl you saved – perished a while ago,” Levric replied. “That Emry is gone. It might be best to let her go.”

  The world was spinning. Declan suddenly felt lightheaded. “Gone?” He whispered, unable to speak the words any louder. “Emry’s gone?”

  His father was frowning again. “Yes, the Emry you remember is gone.”

  “I think I need some air.” Declan yanked at the ties on his heavy apron. He needed to get as far away from this forge as possible.

  “Declan,” Levric took a step closer. “I think you-”

  “Thank you for telling me,” Declan said, cutting him off. “Saves me time trying to find her.”

  The apron pulled free, and Declan tossed it over the nearest cleared counter. Declan turned to make his exit, but his father grabbed his elbow. “Declan, it isn’t as bad as you think.”

  No, it was far worse. His father didn’t know what that camp had been like. He didn’t know about Declan’s dreams. He had no idea what Emry meant to him. Had meant to him. Declan’s heart ached at the thought. He nearly bent over as the full force of his grief shot through his chest.

  Emry was gone. Just like so many in the camp, she had survived a duel only to die later on. Maybe not by winter like some of those Stolen, but something. Emry was gone. Declan had to get out of this forge.

  “I’m alright,” he lied, shrugging off his father’s grip. “I just want to go for a run. To clear my head.”

  “But Emry-”

  “I’m going to let her go, Dad. I don’t want to talk about her again,” Declan replied, stopping him. He wasn’t in the mood for more of his father’s pity or comfort. He just needed to get away. Now.

  Without waiting for Levric’s response, Declan tapped into his speed and ran.

  He ran until he reached water. Ice edged the stream’s bank. Declan glared at it as he dropped onto his knees in the surrounding snow. He didn’t even notice the cold. He felt like screaming.

  Emry was dead. The real one.

  He’d never get to speak with her again. All those dreams of her … they would haunt him forever. Glimpses into what she could have been had she lived.

  What an utter waste!

  He’d saved Emry just to give her a couple more years – if she’d even lived that long after her brother’s death. She was gone, and, with her, left any sort of hope for himself. Declan had tortured others for his own survival – holding onto this sad notion he’d at least done one good thing with his life. Now that he knew better, where did it leave him?

  Broken and damaged and vile.

  CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

  When Declan joined Levric in his forge, he could tell something was up. His mother had let him sleep in for once – that in itself was suspicious. She had been making sure he rose to work almost every morning. The days she hadn’t were ones Declan had gotten himself up.

  Llydia knew enough about The Stolen that she seemed to believe Declan needed to keep his hands busy. She was a big advocate of the notion that work kept the melancholy away. This morning, though, Llydia had simply said she’d forgotten to wake him. Right. Declan wasn’t buying it.

  So as he entered the smithy, he wasn’t all that surprised when Levric set down his tools and told him, “I want to show you something outside.”

  Declan followed his father out through the wide opening on one side of the forge to an adjoining field. An enormous metal circle had been laid on the grass. The metal itself was no more than an inch thick, but was about six inches tall. It had been bent and welded into an empty circle, except for the grass filling its center. It was about twenty feet across, and Declan recognized it immediately. It was a form. For a clay round.

  “What is this?” Declan asked, his voice coming out quieter than he’d intended.

  “I’ve seen these in Kruth,” Levric replied. “I heard that Quirl also uses them. A couple weeks ago, you mentioned you missed training with your friends. I thought maybe this would help…”

  As his father’s voice trailed off there was a hint of uncertainty in it. The form was a gesture of kindness not uncommon in his father, but one Declan could have taken the wrong way. Honestly, Declan had wished to never see another round again during those first few months he was Stolen. But thanks to Rand and Fiona, he’d grown to appreciate and even prefer them for training
.

  He turned to Levric and smiled. “It’s perfect. Is this why you’ve been sending me home early for two weeks?”

  Levric nodded. “We can fill it with clay this week, if you’d like.”

  “Thank you.” Declan returned his attention to the metal form. His hands suddenly itched to hold a staff. He decided now was as good a time as ever to bring up the idea that he’d been toying with since he came home. Especially since he’d learned about Emry. “I want to build my own place.”

  His father was silent for a moment. “Oh?”

  Declan winced and ran a hand through his hair. He didn’t want to sound ungrateful. “I- I think I need a place where I can go to be alone. Just for a couple days at a time – no more than half a day’s run from here. I just-” He swallowed, grasping for the right words. “I need a place to heal.”

  “Where do you have in mind?” Levric asked. He didn’t sound offended. That was a good sign.

  “I was thinking somewhere in the mountains.” He shrugged.

  Levric scratched his chin. “A man needs a space to call his own.”

  Relief flashed through Declan. He was glad his father understood. “Thank you,” he repeated.

  “I can help you with what I can,” Levric told him. “Your mother won’t mind as long you spend half your week here. You being Stolen … it affected her.”

  Sadness quickly replaced his relief – sadness for his mother. For what she must had thought. Declan nodded. “That sounds more than fair.”

  “I suppose now you just need to find some land to claim.” His father smiled.

  He nodded. “I’ll go on a run later today to look.”

  :::::

  Emry returned to Zyntar in basically the same way she’d arrived the first time. She departed Enlennd by ship and was carried up to the Solar Palace in a palanquin. Except, this trip, she came without her father. She had brought her hired personal guards, but they were to disperse as soon as she headed to Acoba in a week. They were just a prop for her arrival into Zyntar.

  As she was brought through the palace gates, she noticed her reception this time consisted of just two people: The Crown Prince of Heerth and Trezim. It was a slight to her father that the king hadn’t welcomed her himself. Emry couldn’t say she blamed him – not with how Onyx had handled the Quirl king and The Stolen. She wasn’t offended. Honestly, her greeting could have been one person less, and she would have preferred it.

  Trez locked eyes with her while the women carrying her palanquin lowered her to the ground. He was smirking, which meant he was already celebrating in his head whatever plot he’d concocted. Still, it felt real nice to see him again. It’d been too long.

  Emry stood and stepped out of the palanquin. Sweat trickled down her back, thanks to her Enn gown. She couldn’t wait to change into Heerth attire. Gripping her skirts in one hand, Emry made her way to the two princes. She made it all of three steps when a flash of yellow light zipped through the space separating her from the veranda. She jumped back as Trezim solidified inches away from her.

  He’d run on light, and by the smug gleam in his eyes, he was ridiculously pleased with startling her. Emry opened her mouth to snap at him, but before she could get anything out, Trezim cradled her face in his hands and covered her mouth with his own.

  Trezim kissed her long and hard. Like they were the only two people standing there. Like how he should have kissed her years ago. His lips were soft, and he tasted of cinnamon. But most importantly, he was real.

  This wasn’t a dream. He wasn’t a figment of her imagination. Trezim was standing right in front of her. Warm and tangible and real. Declan might seem perfect, but he was also a dream. There was no such thing as perfect – just potential.

  Trezim had potential. That was, if he ever got over his fear of her. She’d give him a chance this trip. To see if he was someone she could actually be happy with.

  When Trezim finally pulled back, he was breathing heavy. More so than Emry. He grinned down at her and asked in her own language, “Was that enough of a greeting for you?”

  “It appears someone has missed me,” Emry quipped.

  “Unequivocally,” Trezim pressed his lips to hers once more and straightened. He dropped his hands from her face to grip onto her hand with one of his own. His fingers were cool even in the Heerth sunshine. “Come,” he said, “Let’s get you out of that dress.”

  Emry grunted. “I brought my maid. She won’t be needing your help.” Fanny had ridden ahead of her on a mule with both of their luggage. She was most likely already inside preparing Emry’s room.

  “Such a shame.” Trezim began back towards the palace with Emry in tow. “I have nimble hands.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Being able to spin a couple blades every once in a while doesn’t count as being nimble.”

  “I hope you’ve brought those new shadow blades of yours so I can redeem my honor,” Trez shot back.

  “I didn’t realize you had any honor to begin with,” Emry retorted.

  At that, Trez laughed. “Welcome back, Emry.”

  She smiled. “It’s good to be back.”

  :::::

  On the way to Acoba, Trezim made Emry take a detour to Prythius. To see Sabine. At first, Emry had loved the idea. She hadn’t seen Sabine in years. The moment she stepped through the door of Sabine’s exquisite estate, though, Emry almost instantly realized just how foolish she was.

  Sabine had a man who loved her, two children who adored her, and an abundance of happiness Emry envied. She and Trez stayed with Sabine for a week. One long, wonderful week.

  Prythius was by far the smallest city in Heerth Emry had visited, but Sabine gave her a grand tour of the place, showing her all the things it had to offer. By the end of the week, Emry found she liked Prythius and longed for a life like Sabine’s. Her friend had a family Emry could only dream about. The hardest part of the whole thing was that this was Sabine’s second marriage. She only had this because her first husband had died. Emry might never be so lucky as Sabine. She might never find someone to love the way Sabine loved her Prythius lord.

  Trezim just wasn’t shaping up to be the man for Emry. He hadn’t tried to kiss her again since her arrival, and Emry hadn’t exactly wanted to kiss him either. The idea wasn’t unpleasant … It just didn’t spark a burning warmth through her either. Trezim was her closest friend, and that was enough.

  They dueled together, teased each other, and spent almost every waking moment within ten feet of the other. Yet, that was it. Emry was both disappointed she hadn’t felt more and secretly relieved at the same time.

  No matter how real Trezim was, her heart wasn’t letting go of her dream Declan. She hadn’t dreamt of him in weeks, but every time she thought of him, she found herself grinning. She’d lost her mind.

  “There it is!” Trezim exclaiming, coming up alongside her on his camel. In Heerth, camels were the preferred animal of transportation through the desert.

  Emry squinted at where he was pointing in the distance. The moonlight cast the surrounding sand in a silvery tint for as far as she could see. But there, barely more than darkened blobs on the horizon, was their destination.

  This excursion had been all Trezim’s idea. A picnic under the stars. He’d sent ahead a handful of servants to a well-known nearby oasis to have their mini-feast – his words, not Emry’s – ready for them when they arrived. It was the most romantic gesture Trez had tried to pull since she’d arrived in Heerth. Yet, a part of Emry suspected one of the reasons Trez brought her out here was to train under the full moon.

  “How long will it take us to get there from here?” She asked him.

  “At this pace? Fifteen minutes.” He shrugged. “Maybe a little more.”

  They’d already been riding for an hour. As it was a full moon, Emry could have run at a Teal’s pace, but then Trez would have been far behind. She’d decided to go slower for him. “I hope this place is really as wonderful as you say it is.”

  “You are
by far the whiniest of any of my pupils,” Trez retorted. “My Sun Soldiers would never complain so much in my presence.”

  “That’s just because they don’t outrank you,” Emry replied sweetly.

  Trez’s Sun Soldiers had been a pleasant surprise for Emry. For once, Trez had actually taken her advice and done something with himself. He’d created his own little army of Golds. Two days ago, Emry had spent all day observing and training with them.

  Despite how he sometimes acted, Trez was a natural leader. His Golds excelled at the Turanga, were phenomenal with swords, and moved as one during their mock attacks. Honestly, Emry’s Eyes could learn a thing or two from Trezim’s Sun Soldiers.

  “It’s just a couple more miles, if that.” Trez rolled his eyes.

  It was more like three miles. Exactly seventeen minutes later, the outer edge of palms and underbrush appeared before them. Trez had already informed her that his servants were to set up near the fresh water spring in the middle of the oasis. She followed Trez down a worn path between the moonlit vegetation. It was dark enough here she could have adjusted her eyes to see a little clearer, but Trez knew the way to the spring. He was fine without her help.

  A minute later, Trezim slowed his camel to a near stop. As far as Emry could see, they weren’t anywhere near water. Why would Trez have stopped? She opened her mouth to ask, but Trez hissed, “Go back. Turn around.”

  Alarmed, Emry tightened her grip on her camel’s reins and began the process of shifting the animal around. She barely moved it a foot when shouts and howls rent the air. She whirled in her seat as what she assumed was a lion smacked into her, toppling her to the ground.

  The air rushed out of her on impact. She heard a thud to the left of her as she quickly adjusted her eyes.

  The darkened world came into focus, and she noticed Trez on the ground nearby. His landing had been less fortunate than her own – blood trickled down one side of his face from where he’d hit a protruding, decaying log.