Game of Towers and Treachery (The Shadow's Apprentice Book 2)

by Harper Alexander

  Once she started, she couldn’t stop, the conflicting feelings she’d wrestled with of late pouring out of her. “On the other hand, I am proving something to him. It’s embracing what he taught me, but also breaking free. It’s making him proud by besting him. It’s honoring him, but humbling him. It’s celebrating the idea of limitlessness he instilled in me, but resenting the ways that he limited me.”

  Her gaze grew distant, drinking up the flames, getting lost in their inferno of introspection. “It is a haughty gloat and a bitter statement. A breathless nod to what could have been, and a ruthless grasp at what can be. It’s a battle, a dance – a fumble for identity, a stab at glory… A riddle. A poem. It is, perhaps, a mistake. The single thing I’ll regret most in my life. But what it isn’t is someone else’s to define. To muddle.”

  Isavor did not seem disjointed by her meandering definition. “I understand, I think. It’s personal. Complicated, as personal matters often are. And a deviant upstart having the last word – having any say at all – wouldn’t do it justice. When beasts interfere with masterminds, with interpersonal entanglements, it is an insult to the whole operation.”

  That was close enough.

  “I ask again, then – what are you going to do about it?”

  Despiris quirked an eyebrow at him. “Just like that? I have leave to retaliate as I desire?”

  “There are two epic battles playing out here, as far as I am concerned. One between you and your estranged master, and one between you and that formidable sorceress of a noblewoman. And I do so find it amusing, watching the two of you in your intricate, carnal tangle. Sometimes it is hard to tell if you think you wear crowns atop your heads, or horns. On the one hand, you are right about personal agendas being in poor taste in our hour of despair and mourning. But there also comes a time to boost morale, lest despair truly take hold. In all honesty, I think, we could use a bit of sport around here.”

  It was not what she would have expected him to say.

  A vision came to her of leaping from a balcony to intercept a gargoyle as it took flight, sinking him straight out of the sky to pin him to the ground and plunge a knife into his heart – triggering Lady Verrikose’s tandem consciousness to recoil, the woman herself gasping for air as if it had happened to her. The notion was just a hair too tempting.

  Blinking in surprise at the visceral fantasy, Despiris wondered when she had become so vicious. “I suppose killing the beast to simulate the same effect on the woman’s shared awareness is out of the question, however?” While it wasn’t an idea she truly entertained, she couldn’t resist posing the question.

  Isavor glanced at her in surprise. “And there it is again. The jarring pivot of character that leaves me utterly uncertain if you have a bleeding heart…or are, in fact, entirely ruthless. Would you really kill one? Just to force Lady Verrikose to back off?”

  Despiris chewed her lip, reluctant to admit it was just a dark fantasy. “Probably not.”

  Isavor shook his head at her with what seemed to be half amusement, half disapproval. “Perhaps I was hasty in sending Hanzel to bed,” he joked. His own pair of guards, of course, still waited outside the door.

  Despiris gave a low chuckle, then sighed. “I’ll think of something else, I suppose.”

  “I’m sure you will.”

  Mind turning immediately to brainstorming, Despiris’s gaze wandered from the fire, looking for inspiration in the rustic landscape paintings and hunting scenes. The sole window in the room caught her eye, a single frosty pane showing a sliver of the outside world. She was somewhat surprised to see flecks of snow spitting against the glass. She’d been so absorbed in the rosy glow of the lounge she’d been oblivious to the weather without.

  And that gave her an inkling of an idea. Rising absently, she wandered to the window, peering out at the wintry night. A nudge from her mind sent the snowflakes dancing away in a pretty flurry.

  She hardly heard Isavor approach. “Do you get restless here? Like the beasts?” Following her gaze, he sidled up alongside her to stare out at the snowfall.

  Despiris released the flurry, not wanting to give herself away. “Sometimes.”

  “I must admit, for a wild street fiend, you adapted better than I expected.”

  A small smile of irony quirked her lips. “But that is the specialty of the Shadhi. To be utterly adaptable.”

  “So in spite of your talk of breaking away, blazing your own trail, you do still consider yourself Shadhi.”

  “As I said–”

  “It’s complicated,” he finished. “A riddle. I should probably give up the futile quest that is trying to pin you down. And yet I can’t help myself. A riddle is meant to be solved. Tell me this… Where do you see yourself, after this is finished? Do you see yourself staying?”

  It was a question she wasn’t prepared to answer. Because as determined as she was to best Clevwrith, she couldn’t imagine what the aftermath of such an unfathomable scenario looked like. As much as she needed to carve her own path, define her own purpose, he had been everything to her. Her constant. She didn’t know what a world without him looked like.

  It terrified her. And yet…there she was, pressing onward toward that unknown. Unable to not explore the possibility.

  Glancing at the king, she found him staring back. Wondering. Searching. Offering. The fact that he’d posed the question, can you see yourself staying, presented the possibility. Suggested a future alongside him.

  While likely he only meant a place in his employ, a place where she might forever enjoy the privilege of his resources, connections, and vast stores of priceless academia, Despiris couldn’t keep another notion from trickling in.

  “I would be remiss not to acknowledge… It has been left to me, up to this point, to teach you everything there is to know about the world. But perhaps…there are things…you would wish to learn from another,” Clevwrith’s words came back to her, from when they’d shared a kiss and, if for no other reason than that she hadn’t known how to react, she hadn’t exactly acted favorably. Discouraged, he’d released her with those words before making his escape.

  She’d never been certain, after the incident, exactly how she felt. If she had merely been caught off-guard, or if there might be something to his theory. That she would prefer to discover certain things with someone else.

  Surprising herself, she shifted to face the king, boldly closing the space between them. Before she could think better of it, she stretched up, pressing her lips to his. It was tactful, unintrusive.

  But, of course, since he was the king and she a lowly, dirty street rat, utterly brazen.

  In the back of her mind, a panicked voice clamored at her to realize the scandal of her actions. But the trained Shadhi, conditioned for fearlessness, instilled her with the composure to draw back as if totally unfazed. And only far enough to search his gaze the same way he had searched hers, determined not to give up until she found what she was looking for.

  While slight surprise registered in his gaze, curiosity seemed to win out. And if Despiris had caught herself off-guard kissing the king of Cerf Daine, he surprised her even more by kissing her back.

  Gently, curiously, he encouraged what she had initiated. His hand moved as if to touch her, but rested instead upon the windowsill, as if he were afraid to startle her.

  Or perhaps afraid to encourage her.

  What started as a tentative probe deepened naturally, becoming a warming, delightful exchange. Little butterflies fluttered in her stomach.

  But it was nothing compared to the raging fire that raced through her veins when Clevwrith kissed her.

  Finding what she was after, Despiris withdrew.

  Sensing her change of heart, Isavor let the warmth between them fizzle. Putting a margin of space again between them, he offered a wry smile. “A riddle as always, my lady.”

  Well, at least he’d been a good sport about it. Refusing to be embarrassed, Despiris turned back to the window. “I don’t know where I
will go, once this is all over,” she answered his erstwhile question. “But perhaps I will take that drink after all.”

  And, laughing, the king went to fetch the wayward glasses.

  15

  Primal Eclipse

  “Stay not long in a mind not your own. For in convincing your host that its body belongs to you, who is to say you are not also convincing yourself that its body is yours?” – A rule of beastial magic.

  *

  Toying with her options for countering Lady Verrikose, Despiris decided it was time for some good, old-fashioned spy-work. First of all, she needed to prove her theory. That the beastress was indeed acting out ulterior motives. But a secondary bonus would be gathering more intel, in order to design the perfect counter-maneuver.

  Escaping her dedicated tail by climbing out her window, she spent the morning scaling the snow-slick turrets of the palace, exploring a myriad of perches until she found a suitable vantage point to spy on Lady Verrikose’s balcony. Settling into the crook of a massive stone loop that decorated the tower she’d chosen as her host, Despiris peered through the matching architectural swirl next to her. It served as both her cover and her looking glass.

  She found the noblewoman right where she expected her, meditating faithfully on her balcony, crimson skirts spread perfectly out around her like a blooming rose. Seemingly unaffected by the cold, the beastress didn’t so much as shiver at the light snowfall. It dusted her form like crystalline velvet, making her appear like some dormant, beautiful statue, frozen in time.

  Clearly her mind was elsewhere, possessing a body other than her own.

  Snuggling into her cloak, Despiris did her best to get comfortable, assuming she would be there a while. She wasn’t exactly sure what she thought she would see that would prove or disprove her suspicions, but she had to start somewhere. If the matter required more intimate spywork, she’d arrange a closer look.

  About an hour into her stake-out, a peculiar thing happened. Lady Verrikose came suddenly out of her trance, eyes wild, slumping and throwing a hand out to catch herself. Her other hand came down alongside the first, and instead of collapsing against the balcony, she crawled onto hands and knees. Dragging herself and her seemingly lead-heavy skirt toward the edge of the balcony, she grabbed a hold of the railing and used it to tow herself to her feet. Breathing heavily, she leaned over the rail like she might retch, but ultimately stumbled away instead. Swaying and lurching erratically about the balcony, she gave off the distinct impression that she was drunk.

  But a few moments earlier, she’d been the picture of poise and composure.

  Despiris frowned in bemusement, trying to decipher what she was seeing. She might expect to see some erratic behavior while the woman occupied the mind of a beast – an ‘overlap’ effect, essentially – but why would she act this way when coming back into herself?

  Was the transition always so jarring?

  She didn’t seem to miss a beat when Lord Mosscrow first bright her on and demanded all those demonstrations.

  No, something was different now.

  After a few more moments of odd behavior, the noblewoman staggered to her door, letting herself into her chambers. An antsy itch nagged at Despiris the instant she lost sight of her mark. These were vital moments, while her notable behavior was on full display.

  Thankfully, the beastress reappeared momentarily, cuddling Slasher to her chest. She strolled around the balcony with her eyes closed for a time, gently stroking her pet. As she went, her agitated manner decreased, her steps evening and her composure returning until she was the picture of grace and elegance once again.

  Despiris recalled what the beastress had shared about Slasher as a re-centering tool, when dipping into too many minds left her unstable.

  Returning Slasher to her room, the noblewoman once again assumed her spot of meditation on the balcony, and the whole thing began again.

  She would close her eyes and deepen her breathing, settling into a trance to – presumably – search out the mind of the creature she wished to join with. For a time she would appear comatose, awareness a world away, her body left void while she lived vicariously through another. Then, after about an hour, she would come to – always suddenly, always violently, each reanimation seemingly more of a struggle, more disorienting, than the last.

  When she climbed up onto her balcony rail, teetering as her legs tangled with her skirts and then poising herself as if she might jump, Despiris came un-glued from her perch. She lurched as if to scamper across made-up architectural stepping-stones to intercept the woman, not sure if there was a route fast enough to reach her in time but instinctively going to try. But Lady Verrikose’s behavior shifted as quickly as it had taken a morbid turn, and the beastress steadied herself and climbed back down.

  Heart hammering in her chest, Despiris settled again. What in the gods’ names is she doing?

  Another turn about the balcony with Slasher.

  Another meditation session.

  This time, she came out of it much quicker, and with a loud gasp. Careening to her feet – quickly and clumsily enough to rip her skirt – she rushed to the rail, just in time to watch the fleet of palace-grounded creatures whoosh past like hounds on a scent. Cutting quickly across palace grounds, they hurtled over the wall and out into the city.

  And Despiris decided enough was enough. It was time for her investigation to become an interrogation.

  Maneuvering across the palace façade, she hoisted herself up over the noblewoman’s railing. By then, Lady Verrikose was deep in meditation again, but this time, she looked anything but serene. Her fists clenched white around handfuls of crimson skirt, her perfect raven browns knotted together in a fierce frown. Her lips moved as if chanting something to herself.

  Despiris touched down on the balcony and moved so she blocked the light, casting a shadow over the noblewoman.

  That alone didn’t seem enough to break her from her trance.

  Crossing her arms, Despiris cleared her throat. Lady Verrikose’s eyes flew open. To her credit, only a widening and narrowing of pupils betrayed her startlement. In every other way, she retained her composure.

  “Good afternoon, Lady Verrikose.”

  The noblewoman’s nostrils flared in a slight show of displeasure. “Despiris. Whatever are you doing here?”

  “What I do best, Lady Verrikose. Spying on the competition.”

  Lady Verrikose clenched her exquisitely-carved jaw. “I don’t have time for this.”

  “No? And why would that be? Anything to do with the fleet of beasts who are supposed to be grounded, flying like hounds on a scent past the palace wall just now?”

  “This is not what you think, Despiris. Kindly clamber back off my balcony so I can return to pressing matters beyond your jurisdiction.”

  “Beyond my jurisdiction? Really? That’s what you’re going to go with? After deploying the king’s own secret weapon into the city he has specifically forbidden them from entering? I do believe that’s not your jurisdiction, Lady Verrikose.”

  “The king asked me to deal with the beast. I am dealing with it.”

  “It looks to me like you need a considerable amount of help dealing with it. What’s the matter? The beast didn’t come when you called? You pushed a little too hard trying to get him to go rogue, and provoked him beyond even your control? Your spark became a wildfire?”

  “Go on, then – stand in the way as I fight this ‘wildfire’ you’re so sure I’ve ignited.”

  “Please. Tell me I’m wrong.”

  “It is nothing so simple, Lady Despiris. They do hire specialists because any run-of-the-mill upstart who can dream up theories won’t cut it.”

  “If you think I’m leaving with a patronizing dismissal, you understand less about the minds around you than I thought. This is not an inquiry. It’s an interrogation. Either we can both keep pretending we’re acting in the king’s stead and loop him in to precisely what is going on here, or we can keep him out of it,
and you and I can both do what we do off the record. Bare our fangs and see who’s all bluff and who is truly vicious.” Her fingers wandered to her thigh dagger, brushing casually over the gilded hilt.

  Lady Verrikose did not miss the thinly-veiled threat. “If you intend to torture information out of me, I’m afraid you’ll be sorely disappointed. It takes only a moment to sink into the mind of some other creature, and then I don’t feel a thing.”

  “The creature would, though, would it not? And as a catalyst, perhaps you would feel its suffering as if it was your own?”

  A flicker of doubt crossed the noblewoman’s face, but she mastered her features. “You speak as though you would conveniently be savvy to which creature I choose as a host.”

  Despiris shrugged. “It would only be a wild guess. But it would be a shame if I guessed incorrectly, and you remained blissfully ignorant while a beloved pet of yours was meticulously dissected in front of you.” She felt grotesque even saying it, but such was the nature of dancing around who was ‘bluffing’ and who was ‘vicious’, as she’d said.

  Jaw clenched, Lady Verrikose glowered. It would seem Despiris had touched on a weak spot. But she would never fold so easily. “Perhaps neither of us is bluffing, Despiris, and we are both vicious. And all you would accomplish by such an act is rendering me in need of a new sloth. Or maybe a bird, next time,” she added thoughtfully, as if not attached in the slightest to the specifics. “Or a snake.”

  “You’re on thin ice, Lady Verrikose. I should think you would like to unburden yourself – confide in another who might assist in containing the problem before it gets too out of hand. You are clearly out of your element or have lost control in some way.”