Entwined Paths (Swift Shadows Book 2)

by M. L. Greye

  Emry curled into herself in an attempt to regain her breath. Panic at not getting enough air welled up within her. She forced herself not to focus on it.

  But then she was being pulled to her feet. When she wasn’t able to gain her footing, she was dragged forward – away from the camels and down the path toward the spring. An unknown man and woman were on either side of her, grasping her by the arms. Trez had two men yanking him forward in front of her.

  Their captors were obviously Heerth, judging by their light hair, dark skin, and clothes, but their faces had been painted with henna. Not in flowers and swirls as most Heerths wore, but in sharp angles – barren branches barbed in thorns. The henna went across their foreheads, down one side of their faces, and finishing at the base of their necks. Emry would have been more curious about what it meant if she hadn't been struggling to breathe.

  Up ahead, Emry could make out torches, blindingly bright with her eyes in her night sight. She quickly returned her vision back to normal. Long, skinny stakes had been stuck into the, ground and lit on top. The flames flickered and snapped in the soft night breeze, illuminating a small clearing on the bank of what looked to be a pond – the spring.

  In the center of the clearing – halfway in the light of the torches – were five bodies in the colors of Acoba’s palace. Trez’s servants. Dead. Emry sagged at the sight of them.

  Her captors threw her onto the sand beside them – her hand landing in a puddle of their blood. Emry knew the moment her lungs were back to normal because her stomach clenched at the scent of the air that filled them. The stench of blood – horrid and sickening and sweet.

  She gagged and jerked her hand out of the blood. It had cooled into something thick and sticky. Emry fought back the urge to vomit.

  Trez joined her on the ground, but his hands didn’t land in his servants’ blood. Emry stared into the upturned face of the nearest one. A young woman with a look of fear forever frozen in her pink and green eyes. Emry was going to be sick.

  “Such a prize,” a voice drawled in Heerth from above Emry. His accent was thick and wrong … and familiar.

  She tore her gaze from the dead servant to the man who’d spoken just as he entered the light of the torches. He was Heerth and was adorned in the same paint as the other captors, except his design must have been an actual tattoo. The entire thing was a bright red. He wasn’t a tall man – he looked to be about Emry’s height. Yet, his eyes were base black with blue veins. He could have probably lifted a camel with just one finger.

  “I was so happy to hear a prince of Heerth would be visiting tonight,” the man said in his strange accent. “It will be such a pleasure holding you for ransom. A marvelous win for the Torqs.”

  The Torqs.

  Cold dread seeped through Emry. She had heard of them before – had killed some of them. They’d attacked her and Sabine that day in Zyntar, years ago now. They were violent uprisers. Emry’s heart began to race. What did they plan to do to her and Trez? To gain their ransom, they just had to keep them mostly alive.

  He shifted his attention to Emry. “We can’t kill the prince for fear of annihilation from the king. But you … you are no Heerth.” Emry’s insides trembled at his sneer. “You have such a pretty face.” His eyes snapped to someone behind her. “Get rid of it.”

  Emry’s head was yanked back by her hair. Before she could resist, cold steel was pressed to her right cheek and sliced downward through her skin in a long line – from eyebrow to chin. Emry screamed. She was vaguely aware of Trezim yelling for her, but the pain erupting through her was blinding and consuming.

  The man laughed as Emry slumped forward, pressing her clean hand to her face. Hot blood seeped through her fingers as her face throbbed. She knew she was crying, but all she could feel was her own blood dripping down her hand.

  “She’s making a mess.” The red painted man grunted. “Someone make her stop.”

  Again, her head was jerked backward. Emry loosed a strangled whimper. Strong arms pulled her hand away to be replaced with a different hand. She felt the skin of her face draw back together. The hand belonged to a Ruby.

  She cried out as the Ruby’s hand dropped. Her fingers brushed over where she’d been gushing blood a moment before. A thick scar had been left in its place, going the full length of her face. The Ruby had been sloppy and careless. In order for the scar to be fixed now, another Ruby would have to painfully reopen the wound. That was, if Emry survived the night to visit another Ruby.

  “Leave her alone,” Trez demanded hoarsely, as if he’d been screaming too. “Your qualms are with my family, not her.”

  The red-painted man chuckled darkly. “If you care so much, why don’t you save her yourself?”

  Emry tossed a glance at Trez. Honestly, it was a good question. She’d seen how quickly he could move, and she knew he always had some sort of weapon on him. Why hadn’t he tried to escape yet? Trezim just knelt there in the sand, glaring.

  “A moonlit picnic.” The red-painted man’s voice was barely louder than the sound of the snapping fire on the torches. “You chose your romantic little rendezvous during your weakest hour. Foolish, my prince. She will pay for your foolishness.”

  Trez was weakest under the moon. This revelation hit Emry so hard it made her gasp. It was true, then. Golds were the opposite of Silvers. Because tonight – beneath the full moon – Emry was at her best.

  The cool hilts of her empty shadow blades were pressing into her thigh. They were in the sheaths Trezim had given her – to be worn beneath whatever skirt she had on. So she’d never be helpless.

  Emry slowly turned to meet Trezim’s gaze. He’d already been watching her, waiting for her to make her move. He knew what she was capable of – he feared it. Feared her.

  These Torqs underestimated her. They didn’t realize what she was – what sort of power laid beneath her skin. They mistook her for a soft, pretty face.

  Looks could be deceiving. Emry wasn’t just anyone – Emry was The Mistress.

  A chilly sort of calm spread through Emry. A sort of calm she’d never before experienced – drawn up from somewhere so deep within her it almost felt as though the emotion belonged to another person. She embraced it, letting it flow through her as she twisted to face the red-painted man. “Let us go, and we will spare the lives of your people,” she told him evenly.

  He blinked. “What?”

  Perhaps her Heerth wasn’t clear enough for him to understand. Or he was surprised by her demand. Emry didn’t really care. She rose up to her feet slowly and repeated, “Let us go, and your people will be spared.”

  The man burst into laughter as did a few of his followers. “Is that so? And what of my life?”

  She dropped into the pose of The Mistress, jutting out her hip and tilting her head. In a voice as cold as she felt inside, she sneered, “You will pay for the innocent lives you took tonight.”

  “Oh?” He quirked a brow. “Will you be the one making me pay?” His gaze ran the full length of her, and he snorted. “I’ll take my chances.”

  Emry licked her lips and curled them into a pleased, wicked grin. She’d been practicing it for months – for a moment just like this when it looked like The Mistress had her back against a wall with no way out. From the startled, unsettled look in the red-painted man’s eyes, Emry knew her practice had been worth it. “Your choice.”

  With that, Emry slid her hands down her leg and yanked out the shadow blades. Shouts sounded as Emry turned the empty hilts into black steel.

  Several Torqs jumped for her, but she was already moving – running like a Teal in the light of the full moon. She slid her blades through the ribs of her two closest captors – one after the other – before the actual Teals reached her.

  There were six of them. Emry momentarily paused in place, assessing her next move. She noticed Trez had retrieved his sun blade. He’d only brought one – it would have to be enough for now. The Teals blurred around her.

  Just because she coul
d run like one didn’t mean she could follow the movements of a real Teal. One darted too close to her. Emry swung but missed. The Teal hadn’t, though.

  Blood oozed down her upper arm from the Teal’s swipe. It wasn’t deep, and Emry’s adrenaline had already kicked in so she barely felt it. But she needed the Teals to hold still. She only knew one way to make them.

  Gritting her teeth, Emry adjusted her eyes and called out to their light. The Teals all stumbled to their knees. Emry held them in place as she ran her blades along their necks. Blood sprayed in her wake, but she’d already left their fresh corpses behind.

  Half of Emry wanted to puke at the carnage while the other half told her to keep moving. Instincts from that deep place she’d drawn up her calm told her she had to keep going if she wanted to survive this. Told her to ignore the blood. Told her to focus on the task at hand. She could dwell on everything else later.

  Trez was surrounded by Torqs. As soon as he downed one with his single sword, another two Torqs would appear. They were pushing him toward the spring. Probably to a waiting Blue, ready to drown him.

  Emry darted to his aid, joining him at his side. It would have been better to move at Teal speed, had Emry ever practiced swordplay while running at that pace. She’d never thought to train herself at Teal speed since she could only do it basically once a month. If she ever got out of this oasis, she would be sure to remedy that weakness.

  She knew her eyes were still glowing. She could see the life leave every person she and Trez sliced through. Together, they were holding their ground, but the Torqs kept coming.

  There had to be a hundred of them hiding in this oasis until they could pounce. Emry was panting with her heart pounding in her ears. Beside her, Trez looked to be doing about the same. Her arms were beginning to hurt. She’d gained a few more shallow cuts in them, as well as down her legs.

  Suddenly, vines wrapped up one of her legs. The leaves burned against her skin. Emry cried out, stealing a glance down at them. The vines were tinicuit – a poisonous purplish plant with leaves that could burn flesh. Emry’s Heerth skirt left most of her leg exposed. There must be a Green somewhere, sending the tinicuit vines up her body.

  And still the Torqs kept coming. Emry and Trez were vastly outnumbered and running out of energy … But not power.

  Emry could feel it roiling inside of her, practically begging to be used – to be released on her enemies. Still, Emry hesitated to use it. She wanted her abilities to be her last resort – because if Trez saw just what she could really do…

  The vines tightened around her leg, blistering and burning her skin afresh. She swore. Trez could hate her forever after this, for all she cared. She was done.

  Releasing a war cry of her own, Emry loosed her shadows.

  Darkness spewed out of her, flooding the entire oasis – blocking out the light of the torches. In just a few seconds, the world became a black sphere – darker than the deepest cavern. A Gold could have penetrated her darkness had it not been a full moon. No, tonight, whatever Golds were out there were practically useless.

  She adjusted her eyes into her night vision and chopped the vine off her leg as carefully as she could, careful of her blistered skin. All around her the Torqs were yelling and stumbling about. Even Trez appeared stunned from where he stood next to her, blindly staring into the darkness and gripping onto his sun blade.

  “Don’t move, Trez,” she told him. Before he had the chance to respond, Emry took off running.

  In the dark, the Torqs were her prey.

  She became a whirlwind of steel and speed. Her thoughts left her as she relied on instinct.

  One after one the Torqs fell to her silent shadow blades. They never saw her coming. She tore through them all.

  She’d been wrong in her estimation – there were over a hundred of them within the oasis. Closer to two hundred. But there was no sight of the red-painted man. He’d somehow disappeared. Or fled.

  Emry’s legs began to feel leaden. Her arms were shaking badly, but still she fought. On and on. Even though they were sightless targets, there were just so many of them. Emry probably should have just grabbed Trez and made a run for it, but their camels were gone. The Torqs would have chased them through the desert. So Emry kept going until her legs could no longer hold her.

  She sank onto the bloodied ground in the dark beside the bodies she’d just sliced open. Her heart felt like it would burst out of her chest at any moment. As for her arms … they weren’t responding. She’d reached the end of her physical stamina.

  But there were still thirty or so Torqs left in the oasis. They would hunt her and Trez down the moment Emry called back her shadows. For vengeance, they might even attack the innocent citizens of Acoba, like what they’d done in Zyntar.

  No, Emry had to kill them all – to save Trez’s people. She knew what she had to do.

  Never before had Emry grabbed onto the life force of so many. Still, Emry adjusted her eyes, shifting into the ability that scared everyone she knew. Then, she reached out into the oasis.

  From her spot on the ground, she couldn’t see them all, but she could feel them. Their light called to her. Taunted her. Slowly, one by one, her awareness grasped onto each and every soul she found, excluding Trez.

  Their lives were intoxicating. So much power within them, flowing through them. Power Emry could take to strengthen herself. To build up that store within her until she could no longer contain it within her. Until it flowed from her with each breath. Until there was no one alive able to challenge her.

  No one would ever assume she was helpless again. Such power that Emry could be more than just queen of Enlennd – she could rule the world.

  “Emry!” Trez shouted.

  His voice jolted through her – dragging her out of her power-induced haze. She wouldn’t take their life forces into herself. Their light would consume her – twist her. It’d be far too much. She didn’t know how to control their light – just their darkness.

  Taking a deep breath, Emry tightened her unseen grip and yanked it toward her. As one, their lives wrenched out of them. Emry quickly released their light into the night, ignoring the temptation to hold onto it. She then prepared herself for their darkness.

  It hit her like an enormous wave. She was flung backward with the overwhelming amount of fear and anger and despair and pain. Emry growled as she sucked it all inside of her.

  So much. There was so much of it. Filling every inch of her. Threatening to explode out of her.

  She screamed as she pressed it all down, collecting it into an internal orb of emotions – shaking with the amount of effort it required. Then she reached a mental hand inside the orb to its source of power and drew it out.

  All the emotions dissipated, leaving her with just the power – the raw, thrumming ball of power. Panting and sweating, Emry pushed it down inside of her. She felt her store of power expand around the new addition – accepting it as her own.

  Finally finished, Emry loosed her hold on the shadows filling the oasis. She watched them slip into the night, clearing the sky above her head.

  The last thing she saw before slipping out of consciousness were the stars.

  CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

  Declan bolted upright, clutching his chest. Something truly awful had woken him. His insides had felt like they would burst out at any moment – like his chest was about to be ripped open. He took deep gulps of air – one ragged breath after the other.

  He was alone in his room on the first floor of his parents’ home. Moonlight from the full moon leaked in around the edges of his curtains covering his window. Rubbing his chest with one hand, Declan frowned down at his quilt.

  His heart was still thundering away. He wasn’t sure what had jerked him awake. As far as he knew, he hadn’t even been dreaming. It was one of those rare nights he’d avoided his nightmares.

  He wasn’t fond of reliving his days as Stolen. Enduring it once had been more than enough.

  Releasing a sig
h that was closer to a moan, Declan sank back down onto his pillow. He needed his sleep for tomorrow. Building a house required a lot of energy. Whatever it was that had woken him had passed now.

  :::::

  A Heerth Funeral Ball was very different than an Enlennd one. Unlike in her own homeland, a Funeral Ball in Heerth was a somber event. There was some dancing, but to soft, smooth music done in respect of the lives which had ended. It wasn’t filled with fake smiles or laughs or perfumes. Everyone wore muted colors – a symbol of mourning.

  Emry had always hated Funeral Balls back in Enlennd. They’d felt like a pleasant face plastered on. Nothing like this. Here in Heerth, this Funeral Ball was real. People of all different ages danced with tears trickling down their cheeks. They let their emotions show in a brave display for the lost lives. Emry liked the difference – found herself preferring Heerth’s traditions to her own.

  This particular Funeral Ball was being held in the garden at the Acoba palace for the servants who had ridden out ahead of Trez and Emry in the desert. They’d gone for a simple task but had ended up dead. Their families now mourned them beneath the stars and in the midst of torches that had been erected in the ground.

  Emry wasn’t fond of the torches. They looked identical to the ones the Torqs had set up around the murdered servants.

  “When you become queen, you should change Enlennd’s ridiculous notion of what a Funeral Ball is or get rid of them altogether.” Trez sidled up alongside Emry, holding a plate of fruits and cheeses in his hand. He offered her the plate

  She frowned at the food. “I’m not really hungry.”

  “You already skipped lunch,” he said softly. “To heal you properly, the Rubys need you to be nourished.”

  Emry winced and took the plate from him. “Fine.”

  The ordeal from three days ago had left her marred all over. So many scars. Up her legs, across her arms, down her face. Emry’s body looked like she’d run through a tunnel of knives and fire. She couldn’t go home like this. Her father would never let her out of his sight again, and he would ask too many questions – ones Emry didn’t want to answer.