Cast in Secrets and Shadow

by Andrea Robertson

  How can he be so calm?

  “Lahvja seems happy to be here,” she said, trying to add something to the conversation despite her inability to concentrate.

  She hadn’t anticipated how difficult it would be to stop herself from reaching out to Teth. To touch him. Pull him close. To beg him to touch her.

  Nava’s mercy, what is wrong with me?

  “I’m glad Nimhea’s eased off on her,” he continued in an infuriatingly mild voice. “That was hard to see. I understand why she was angry, but none of this is Lahvja’s fault.”

  “It must be hard for her,” Ara replied, unable to keep her gaze from flicking down to the surface of the water where the rest of his body was hidden. “To be caught between her friends and the gods.”

  “I’m glad it’s not my job.” He leaned back, looking up at the moon.

  The movement revealed his upper torso. Water droplets formed on his chest, rolling down his skin. Ara longed to reach out and touch one, to let her fingers follow its trail over his body. The urge to reach for him was unbearable.

  He sighed. “Though I’m not exactly sure what my new job entails. Probably a lot of godly oversight, huh?”

  “I couldn’t say,” Ara murmured.

  He sank back into the water. “I know we still have to sort out the rules of a relationship between the Loresmith and one of her knights,” he said.

  “Yes.” Right now that feels like the most unreasonable thing I’ve ever heard.

  “But I want to kiss you.”

  Ara went silent, though her pulse jumped.

  Teth swam closer. “What do you think of that?”

  “Just one kiss?” Only one? Not enough. That would never be enough.

  “If it’s what you want.” His voice was as quiet as the gentle ripples in the water.

  Ara didn’t want to think about what she should or shouldn’t do. But she was here in this moment. With him.

  “Yes.”

  He closed the space between them. She realized he could stand, while the water was still too deep for her to touch the bottom. His arms slid around her waist and drew her against him. She could feel all of him. The hardness of his body pressing into hers. A little gasp escaped as she was suddenly aware of how much he wanted her.

  She wanted to wrap her legs around him, but denied herself that desire, sensing that there was a point at which she wouldn’t be able to stop herself from doing everything she wanted. And she wanted so much.

  He brought up one hand to touch her face. “I’m sorry, but this is all I can think about.”

  “Don’t be sorry,” she said, relieved that she wasn’t alone in her wanting.

  She parted her lips when he bent to kiss her; the touch of his mouth was like velvet. Driven by instinct, she crushed herself against him, hungry for more. Teth groaned. The arm that was holding her tightened. His fingers dug into her hip, rocking her body against his, and Ara gave in to the sensations that took hold of her. Exquisite, silken heat.

  Teth’s other hand moved from her cheek to her neck. His fingertips trailed over her throat and down, lightly tracing her curves, learning the shape of her, making her gasp against his mouth while he kissed her.

  It was heady torture to revel in how much he wanted her, how much she wanted him.

  Why can’t I have this? I need this. I need him.

  She’d started to believe that one kiss could last forever, and she wanted it to, but Teth gently pulled away. He rested his forehead against hers. His breath came hard and fast. She could feel his heart racing; its pace matched her own.

  “Teth.” Her voice was shaky. “I want—”

  She didn’t know how to finish the sentence. She didn’t want them to stop. She needed to know what came next, what the relentless urges building within her meant, where they would lead. She wanted him—no matter the consequences. She was about to tell him so when he spoke first.

  “Ara.” Teth’s voice tightened, as did his hold on her, but the quality of his touch had changed. “Stay still.”

  “Why?” She stiffened in his arms, aware of a new, unwelcome tension in his body.

  I did something wrong. I went too far.

  Wrenching disappointment and a sickening humiliation swept over her.

  “Snake,” Teth whispered.

  “What?” That was not anything Ara had expected him to say.

  She’d been clinging to him with abandon. Now her fingers gripped his shoulders in panic as the implications of that single word became clear.

  Her voice went shrill. “In the water?”

  “No, they’re on the bank, watching us,” Teth whispered. “But thanks for putting that image in my head.”

  “They?” Ara had a hard time being still. She wanted to thrash her way out of the pool, while at the same time she felt paralyzed. She wrapped her arms tighter around him.

  “The first one apparently invited a few friends.”

  Ara shut her eyes tight, swallowing hard. “What color are they?”

  Please not red. Please not yellow.

  “It’s hard to tell in this light,” he said. “But they look like the snake Lahvja made friends with.”

  Making herself take a deep breath, Ara told him, “They probably aren’t venomous. What do you think they want?”

  “I think they want a bath.” Teth hadn’t relaxed. His arms were like iron bands around her waist. “I’d rather not share.”

  Nava’s mercy. “Please. No sharing.”

  “I’m going to pull you to the opposite bank,” he said quietly. “Please tell me if any snakes show up there.”

  Ara’s gaze swept the side of the pool she faced. “No snakes.”

  “Good.”

  She kept her eyes locked on the empty bank as Teth drew her away from the center of the pool.

  “Oh gods.” His fingers dug into her sides.

  They had almost reached the bank. “What?”

  “Just don’t look back. When your feet hit the edge of the pool, climb out and go for the village. I’ll be right behind you.”

  “They’re in the water, aren’t they?”

  He didn’t answer.

  Ara had the urge to bite Teth’s shoulder so she wouldn’t scream, but that didn’t seem very fair. She held her breath instead. Her heel brushed solid ground. Without hesitating, she scrambled up the bank and stumbled along the path. Dripping water, she ran, no longer caring that it was hard to see. She didn’t stop until she reached the ladder below the inn.

  When she turned, Teth was there as he’d promised. He’d pulled on his trousers and had a rumpled pile under his arms.

  “I got our clothes.”

  They stared at each other for several moments.

  Ara began to giggle. Teth chuckled. She let herself fall against him. While Teth held her, they laughed until they were crying.

  “That wasn’t exactly how I imagined this evening going,” Teth said when they’d regained control of their laughter.

  Ara swiped tears from her cheeks. “I hope the snakes appreciate what we did for them.”

  They fell into laughter again.

  Eventually their mirth faded, and Ara was suddenly aware of how little she was wearing. Her undershirt was soaked and clung to her skin. Her legs were bare.

  Teth had gone still, as if he’d read Ara’s mind and paused while sifting through options before he made a choice about what to do next. He held her lightly, and his fingers began to stroke the line from the nape of her neck to the center of her shoulder blades.

  Though she’d stopped laughing, her breath continued to be quick, shallow sips of air. Her heart rabbited beneath her ribs. When she’d leaned against him, her elbows had been trapped at her sides and her hands were fists against his collarbone. She flattened her palms against his chest, reveling in the warmth of his s
kin and the hard lines of his torso.

  Teth slipped a finger beneath her chin and tilted her face up. He bent his head and brushed his lips over hers ever so gently. The caress was too brief, a whisper of a kiss, compelling Ara to slide her arms around his neck, wanting him closer, needing a kiss that was longer, deeper. But Teth caught her wrists and moved her hands away. His lips feathered over the spot where her jaw met her earlobe.

  “Let me look at you,” he whispered. “Please.”

  The words stole her breath. He was quiet and kept very still until she nodded. Ara drew a shaky breath as he released her wrists and stepped back. Though self-conscious, she wasn’t embarrassed, nor did she avert her eyes from his face. She watched Teth as his gaze moved slowly over her, drinking in the sight. His limbs grew taut and his jaw clenched.

  In his eyes she saw wonder, tenderness, and, beneath that, smoldering heat. Seeing the stoking fire in his gaze set her own blood alight.

  “Teth.” She wanted to close the gap between them. She wanted his hands on her.

  “Close your eyes.” His voice was rough.

  She did.

  “Lift your arms over your head.” The closeness of his voice told her he’d taken a step forward. It was a strange request, but Ara complied.

  Her eyelids snapped open when she felt fabric slide over her arms, settle on her shoulders, and cover her thighs. Teth had slipped her tunic over her body, covering her wet undershirt. She felt a stab of disappointment that Teth easily read on her face.

  His hand curved around the nape of her neck and he leaned in to kiss her. This kiss spoke to her. His lips lingered on hers and she tasted his desire. A longing that mirrored her own.

  Ara wrapped her arms around his waist and closed the small space remaining between them. Her skin felt feverish. She kissed him hungrily. Her body molded to his, but somehow it wasn’t close enough.

  Teth’s hands moved to her shoulders, and he very gently pushed her away.

  “We should return to the inn,” he said in a strained voice. “And go to bed.”

  Ara’s heart skipped a beat, and she bit her lip. “Together?”

  He looked away, making a sound that was something between a growl and a groan. “Senn’s teeth.”

  Forcing himself to meet her questioning gaze, Teth spoke quietly. “I don’t think . . . not yet. Not when I know you’re worried that it, that we . . . might be violating some ancient rule set down by the gods.”

  The combined force of relief and regret hit Ara hard. She didn’t know what to say. Or what she truly wanted.

  “And I have to say,” Teth continued, looking chagrined, “I don’t want to let Eni down. I never imagined an honor like this could belong to me.”

  His voice had thickened, and he paused to clear his throat. “I’m a thief. A scoundrel. And I was perfectly happy that way. But now . . . to be a Loreknight . . . it’s so much more. I feel a weight of responsibility, a sense of duty I never would have imagined I could feel.”

  Ara reached out to caress his cheek, a sudden tightness in her chest. “I know . . . I know.”

  She retrieved her trousers from the ground where Teth had dropped them. He turned away to put his shirt on as she wiggled them up her damp legs and hips.

  They climbed the ladder and entered the inn, but when they stopped in front of the door to Ara and Nimhea’s room, Ara hesitated, frowning.

  “Nimhea and Lahvja seemed to be reconciling. What if they ended up in the same room?”

  Teth shook his head. “They didn’t.”

  Ara raised a skeptical eyebrow.

  “If they had, they would have made sure we knew,” he told her. “They’d leave a note or some other sign to make absolutely certain they weren’t . . . interrupted.”

  Shifting her weight from one foot to the other in her sudden discomfiture, she asked, “How can you be sure?”

  “Because it’s what I would do.” There was a dangerous glint in Teth’s eye, and his smile made her knees weak.

  He pressed two fingers to his mouth and then rested them on her lips. “Good night, Ara.”

  Teth moved past her to the door to his and Lahvja’s room and went inside.

  Ara stood outside her room’s door for a long while, wondering what she was going to do about the thief who was on the verge of stealing her heart.

  8

  The cell wasn’t the worst of it. The cell Eamon could bear.

  He wasn’t chained. He didn’t share the space with rats or other vermin. The cell was spare, but clean. Servants brought meals three times a day that tasted fine, kept his belly full, and didn’t play games with his mind. His simple cot verged on comfortable, and his chamber pot was cleaned twice a day.

  The “arrangements” Prince Zenar had made for Eamon were tolerable, but his heart was sick over his helpless, humiliating confessions to Zenar. He’d revealed so much. All the ways he’d hoped to protect Nimhea had crumbled the moment he’d drunk the ArchWizard’s vile concoction.

  The only bright spot in that ordeal hadn’t been because of any triumph on Eamon’s part. No, Zenar’s greed and singular focus when it came to magic and Saetlund’s gods caused him to ignore salient facts that would have been to his great advantage to know. He had failed to press Eamon on the details of their time in Silverstag. Most importantly, he’d had no interest in Teth, dismissing the thief out of hand. Because of that, Zenar didn’t know about the deal struck between the Below and the Resistance. That vital fact remained a secret. Eamon could only hope that Zenar didn’t mull over the conversation and decide to revisit the meeting in Silverstag in a second interrogation.

  His cell was located deeper into the Temple of Vokk, partway down a great staircase. When Eamon laid eyes on the steps spiraling into darkness, he knew what true fear was.

  He was certain death waited for him at the bottom of that staircase.

  But the guards did not march him to the bottom. They followed only a few turns before reaching the cell that Eamon now occupied, and they’d left him. Left him without saying a word in a place that felt like indecision. He was neither welcome in this place nor condemned.

  That could have driven him mad, but it didn’t.

  What broke him were the children.

  He could hear them far below. Their cries, whispers, and whimpers floated up like the echoes of ghosts.

  At first he’d believed they were ghosts. Whether those ghosts haunted the temple or simply existed in his own mind, Eamon didn’t know.

  It wasn’t until the first line of young ones—some so small they had to be carried—marched past his cell, continuing down the spiral stairs, that he knew they were real. Their hands were shackled, and they were chained to one another. Dirty and disheveled, wearing frightened and bleak expressions, they descended step by step in utter silence. Their cries didn’t reach him until later, after the guards had left.

  Eamon tried to peer down the spiral, but only darkness stared back up at him.

  Down there, he thought, are the real cells.

  But why were the Vokkans taking children? It could be a second, secret Embrace being slowly enacted. Eamon remembered talk of missing children in Silverstag, and the agreement between the Below and the Resistance to try to get to the bottom of why Saetlund’s children were disappearing from their homes.

  Eamon didn’t know why, but now he knew where the children were being taken.

  At least they weren’t being tortured, as far as he could tell. They cried, but the sounds were those of fear, not pain.

  Those far more innocent than he disappeared into the dark, and he was certain an unimaginable horror lurked there.

  That became his torment.

  9

  The rain that plagued them from the coast to Mer gave way to vine-filtered sunlight that crept into Ara and Nimhea’s room with the dawn. The air remained heavy and saturated wi
th moisture; when Ara drew breath it swam in her lungs. Damp heat clung to her hair and skin, compelling her to plait her hair in a slender ring around the crown of her skull to keep it from plastering itself on her neck. She abandoned her usual long-sleeved tunic for a sleeveless linen undershirt that she belted at the waist. Instead of leather trousers, she pulled on raw silk tights that served as an extra layer in cold weather. They were opaque enough to be modest and would at least let her skin breathe.

  Nimhea made a similar change in her clothing. As they left the room together, Ara noticed that Nimhea’s hair color had been improved significantly with the addition of Lahvja’s herbs—though Ara had decided to keep to herself the choice to take the summoner’s advice when mixing the dye—its hue was now darkest auburn instead of a muddy, grayish brown. From the way Nimhea kept touching her hair, the princess seemed pleased by the improvement.

  Teth and Lahvja were waiting for them in the hall. When Ara smiled at Teth, she immediately blushed and silently cursed herself for it, but she couldn’t stop the flashes from the previous night that sprung into her mind’s eye, making her toes curl.

  Senn’s teeth, Ara, get control of yourself.

  Teth’s returning smile was crooked and impish. It did nothing to quell the bubbling warmth beneath Ara’s skin simply from being in his presence.

  * * *

  Joar awaited them below the inn, slathering oil on the broad swaths of bare skin he seemed to favor.

  He really does oil himself. Ara covered her mouth to hide her giggle and marveled at how vain he must be to do such a thing.

  With the sun out, Joar’s body shone. He wore the same leather harness and kilt as the night before, and it was even more obvious that he was nothing but blocks and ropes of hard muscle. Only now there was an addition that stifled Ara’s laughter and turned her blood icy.

  Hanging from a strap on his back was the skull of a butcher crow, but it had been altered. Ara could see steel fittings and leather straps that transformed the bones into a helmet. Attached to the helmet, neck armor flowed down and out, enough to cover his shoulders and upper chest. The armor had been crafted of overlapping scales in shining ebony; it was a material Ara didn’t recognize, but that at the same time was somehow familiar.