Slight and Shadow (Fate's Forsaken: Book Two) (19 page)

“I concede nothing,” Silas said, rising to join him. But before he left, his hand clamped down on Kyleigh’s shoulder — and his fingers curled tightly. “You and I will be discussing this later.”

She glared at him, and he smirked back.

“Will you keep score?” Jake said to her. He propped a hand to the side of his face, pointed at Silas and mouthed:
He cheats.

“I do not cheat,” Silas said without looking. “Don’t blame me for your poor aim, shaman.”

After Kyleigh promised to keep things fair, the boys took their places at the edge of the wall. There wasn’t much to entertain them in the evenings. Once the sun went down, the minceworms would come swarming out of the sand, trapping them inside their camp. But Jake had discovered a way to make the best of it.

He started sending fireballs out among the worms — purely for experimental purposes, he’d claimed. Silas laughed uproariously when the worms caught fire, and it wasn’t long before he wanted a turn at it. They began keeping track of who was able to destroy the most of the horrible, squirming little creatures each night.

Then one of their shots had accidentally hit a minceworm full in the mouth. It swallowed the fireball whole and a second later, it exploded — putting out a burst of flame large enough to take out a chunk of the worms crowded around it.

And so Jake’s experiments had dissolved into a game.

It was Silas’s turn to go first. He took careful aim, holding Jake’s staff and squinting with one eye until he found his target. “Fire!”

Jake muttered the spell, and a fireball shot out of the staff. It sailed over the wall and directly into the open mouth of a distant minceworm. A small explosion burst on the horizon, briefly lighting up the night — and sent several nearby worms sailing.

Silas cackled loudly as their flaming bodies fell from the sky. “That one was at least eight points,” he said.

“
Eight
? You know, sometimes I don’t think you even know your numbers.” Jake did a quick sum on his fingers. “That couldn’t have been more than five.”

“You’re both wrong — it’s six,” Kyleigh said. When Jake looked at her curiously, she sighed. “You counted the five that got their hides blown out from under them, but you forgot about the one he actually hit.”

“Ah, you’re right,” Jake said, adding one more finger to his sum. “Six it is, then. And now it’s my turn.”

Kyleigh watched them for a while, doing her best to keep them both from cheating. But her heart just wasn’t in it. After months of patching things together, of carefully stitching her frail hopes to a sturdy leaf of patience … his name was all it had taken to pull the threads apart.

Just one mention of Kael, and she immediately grew restless. Her toes curled beneath her. She had to fight to stay put.

“Are you leaving?” Silas called as she made her way to her tent.

“Yes, I’m … tired,” she said. She thought her armor might be the reason her chest felt so tight. She’d sweated in it for days on end, after all. So she stripped off her shirt and jerkin and replaced it with a silk tunic. She kicked off her boots, but left her leggings — just in case she needed to get up in the middle of the night.

“Well, I think we’d all better call it an evening,” Jake said loudly.

“You’re just saying that because you’re ahead,” Silas countered.

“What? I would never —”

“Oh, save your words. You’ll need them when I defeat you tomorrow,” Silas added, with what she could only imagine was a toothy grin.

Kyleigh lay with her back against the tent wall for a moment, enjoying the softness and warmth of the pelts beneath her. She thought she had a pretty good chance of drifting off when she suddenly felt as if she wasn’t alone.

She opened her eyes — and saw Silas lying across from her.

“Get out of my tent.”

“Hmm … no,” he replied. “I promised we would talk. And so I mean to.”

Kyleigh most certainly didn’t want to do that. She tried to shove him out with her heels, but he knocked her feet aside. “Don’t you have some licking to do? Or some fleas to gnaw at —?”

“Nothing is more important than what I’m about to say,” Silas retorted. He slid closer to keep her from kicking him. “We’re both alone in the world, dragoness — I, because I choose to be. And you, because you are a strange creature without any friends.”

“Are you certain it’s not the other way around?”

He smirked at her; his eyes glowed playfully. “I will ignore your insult —”

“How kind of you.”

“— because I know that your strange, scaly heart is broken.”

She fell silent.

He took a heavy breath. “And because we are both alone, it’s my unfortunate duty to have to remind you of the laws of our people.”

“I know the laws,” Kyleigh growled. She hated rules. Rules were for people who liked to wear their breeches laced up too tight, and she loved nothing more than to break them.

But though she gave him a look that could’ve melted ice, it didn’t stop him from lecturing her. “Then you know why I must speak with you — why I must stop your feelings for the Marked One, this
whisperer
, before they destroy you both.” Silas sat up on his elbow. “If he were a regular brand of human, I’d tell you to take him to the forest and cast your lot at the Braided Tree — to perform the ritual, and hope to Fate that he’s reborn a halfdragon. But he’s not the normal sort of human, is he?” Silas’s eyes stared a hole through her head, trying to pry reason from between her brows. “He’s a whisperer. And you know as well as I that no man can survive Fate’s dagger twice.”

He held up his hand, and even in the dim light she could see the thin, white scar that cut across his palm. Her fingers twitched involuntarily for her own scar. It was the mark the ritual had left behind. Wherever Fate meddled, she always left a mark.

“Need I remind you why this is a problem?” Silas drawled, inspecting his scar, and Kyleigh got the feeling that he was enjoying himself. “Have you so easily forgotten the weight of the Three Tenets?”

No, she hadn’t forgotten them — though most of the time she wished she could. But for some reason, it was as if they’d been scratched permanently into her skull. Even when she’d wandered nameless and naked through the woods, struggling to remember who she was, the Tenets still rang inside her head:

To take your own life is to forsake your eternal rest. To try to destroy your second self is to take your own life. And
—

“
To bond with any but your own is Abomination
,” Silas whispered. “
And upon all Abomination, Fate will loose her brother — Death
. You see, dragoness? Your feelings for the whisperer are exactly that: an Abomination.”

Kyleigh hated the Tenets. They were stupid, vague rules that could’ve meant a thousand different things to a thousand different people. “Maybe it’s not an Abomination.”

Silas narrowed his eyes. “But it is. It says so in the —”

“
Any but your
own,” Kyleigh cut in. “It doesn’t say anything about my own
kind
. Perhaps shape has nothing to do with it. If I’m for him and he’s for me, then wouldn’t that make him … mine?”

Silas’s laugh raked obnoxiously against her ears. “You shouldn’t try to put words into Fate’s mouth.”

“Then perhaps Fate’s mouth should’ve been more specific,” Kyleigh said testily. “I know what I feel in my heart, and nothing is going to change that. Not even Fate.”

“Are you willing to risk your own life to prove it?”

“Yes, and gladly.”

“Are you willing to risk
his
life?”

The words froze on Kyleigh’s tongue. She studied the high arches of Silas’s brows. They rose higher in her silence. “It wouldn’t be his life at —”

“Upon
all
Abomination, dragoness. Death would punish your little whisperer as swiftly as he punished you.”

Kyleigh hadn’t thought of that. But now that she did, the thought made her furious. “Get out,” she snarled.

Silas shrugged. “As you wish.” He crawled backwards out of the tent, but paused at the opening. “Remember, dragoness: we have a duty to protect those weaker than us — and unfortunately, that includes the humans. If you truly care for him, you should be careful not to lead him down such a dangerous path. And if you cannot control yourself … then perhaps it would be best to separate from him, rather than sentence him to death.”

Kyleigh went to throw a pelt at Silas, but he was already gone. She sank back down and propped her hands roughly behind her head.

Though she tried her best to ignore it, Silas’s warning rang in her ears. It was no idle threat: she knew very well that Fate often punished the shapechangers who disobeyed her Tenets.

She remembered the stories Bloodfang used to tell the young pups to pass the long winter nights. Some of those stories were about the curses Fate had put on shapechangers who broke the Tenets. She remembered one in particular about a halfwolf named Bleakhowl, who’d been so distraught by his second shape that he starved himself to death — breaking the first Tenet. But Fate didn’t let him perish: instead, she took away his human shape and forced him to live forever as a man trapped inside a wolf’s body.

The story claimed that travelers could still hear Bleakhowl’s woeful cry, on nights when the moon was full.

Kyleigh stared past the shadows in the tent’s roof, thinking. Nothing could ever change what she felt. But she didn’t think there was any chance Kael’s feelings would change, either. He had that stubborn mountain blood running through his veins. Once he set his mind against something, that was it.

But if he ever
were
to change his mind … then perhaps Kyleigh would have no choice. Perhaps it would be better for her to leave him alone than to put his life at risk.

She didn’t know what to do. But she knew one thing for certain: in the end, she would do whatever was best for Kael — whatever that happened to be …

No matter how badly it hurt.

Chapter 17

A Dagger in the Back

Elena waited patiently, frozen atop a nearby dune. Her legs were tucked beneath her, and her arms were balanced across her knees. She was careful not to budge.

She watched as the three figures within the ring of fire finally stopped their chattering. One by one, they slipped into their tents. Then she waited another hour, measuring by the rise of the moon. Her breath was so soft that she hardly felt it cross her lips. When she was certain the three companions were asleep, she got to her feet.

Their trail began at Arabath, where a woman who worked the date stand had casually mentioned that she’d seen three strange travelers enter the southern desert. She had wondered if Elena was part of their group, looking very pointedly at her blackened armor and the deadly knives strapped to her arms.

Elena had smiled, but she didn’t answer. And the woman seemed to realize that asking another question might cost her more than a few dates.

“Four men followed them into the desert — men who had the blood of many travelers upon their heads. And they never returned,” the woman had said. She raised her chin defiantly as she handed Elena her rations. “Their families went out to collect their bones in the morning.”

Elena heard the warning in her voice, but it didn’t trouble her. In fact, the date woman had been most helpful: now that she knew the sort of brawlers she was up against, she would take no chances.

Tracking the Dragongirl’s party across the sands had been easy. The glass caps they’d left behind lit up like beacons when the sunlight hit them. Once she knew where they’d gone, it became a simple matter of catching up. Elena traveled at nearly twice their pace everyday — she had plenty of water and rations, and sleep was all she needed to replenish her energy.

The task ahead of her would be the most difficult of the journey.

The minceworms were creatures she knew little about. During her first day of travel, she could feel the worms rolling in the sand beneath her, following her steps. She left some dried meat behind, but when that didn’t seem to tempt them, she tried something else.

One of the first lessons the Countess had taught her was how to quiet her steps. Elena could move silently, if she wished. And once she’d concentrated on stepping lightly, the minceworms stopped following her. So she supposed that it was the noise of her steps that had attracted them, and not the smell of her blood.

As long as she traveled quietly and slept perfectly still, the worms didn’t bother her. Now as Elena jogged towards the ring of fire in the distance, her feet hardly brushed the sand.

The heavy footfalls of the Dragongirl’s party had stirred the minceworms up to the surface. Elena strained her eyes in the darkness and wagered that there were close to three-dozen worms ringed around the glass cap.

The only way she could get close to the camp was if she timed her steps perfectly. She couldn’t linger, and she had to be careful. If she so much as brushed a worm with the top of her boot, they would swarm — and she refused to die in the jaws of scavengers. It would be a humiliating death.

Elena picked up speed as she reached the edge of the worm ring, daring to dig her toes in a little bit deeper. She kept her eyes on the ground, searching for the bare patches of sand between worms, springing from one gap to the next. It took all of her concentration to keep her balance at every awkward landing. She kept her arms spread apart and the ring of fire in the corner of her eye.

When she felt she was close enough, she leapt.

Her arms stretched in front of her as she dove over the flames. She landed on her palms, rolled on her shoulder and popped swiftly to her feet. A shadow would’ve made more noise than Elena did.

The others had their flaps laced up tightly against the cold, but the Dragongirl’s tent was wide-open. Elena crept towards it, her knees bent and her palms parallel to the ground. She moved on the balls of her feet and kept her muscles tensed: the Dragongirl had a fierce reputation as a swordsman, and she was determined not to become another victim of her blade.

As she crept closer, Elena prepared for the worst possible scenario. She planned through what would happen if she found the Dragongirl awake and waiting for her, or if she wore her armor and slept with her sword under her pillow. There were several dozen ways her attack might go wrong.

But when she ducked inside the tent, she saw that all of her worry was for naught.

The Dragongirl was sprawled out upon what looked like a blanket of animal furs. She lay on her back and had one arm stretched above her head. The other was tucked closely to her side. Elena paused at the tent’s opening and quickly took in her surroundings: the white sword was sheathed and lay atop the Dragongirl’s shirt and jerkin, well out of her reach. There weren’t any other weapons in the room. Even if she
did
wake and try to defend herself, Elena would have the advantage.

She couldn’t have planned it better.

There was a slight twang of regret in Elena’s throat when she saw how beautiful the Dragongirl was. She hadn’t expected her to be quite so lovely — or young. Her soft breath teased the strands of raven hair that fell across her face; her lips rested softly.

And with a sigh, Elena drew a knife.

It was one of the three poisoned blades that the Countess had given her, the one she’d kept tucked inside her gauntlet. Even in the pale light, she could see the dangerous film that coated the blade. The Countess’s poisons had never failed her. Elena wagered that it wouldn’t take much: just a shallow cut, just enough to draw blood, and the tainted blade would do the rest.

Elena placed the tip of the knife against the Dragongirl’s smooth throat. With a deep breath, she went to flick her wrist across the vein beneath her chin … but nothing happened.

She tried it again, but her wrist didn’t move. Her arm suddenly felt numb, like all of the blood was stopped up and couldn’t get to her hand. She squinted into the darkness and saw there were fingers wrapped her wrist — and they were squeezing very,
very
tightly.

Her hand went numb. The knife slipped out of her grip. But before it could even strike the ground, she’d already ripped a second blade from her boot. When she looked up, the Dragongirl glared back.

Her eyes were open; the bright green of their centers blazed a hole through Elena. She tried to wrench her arm free, but the Dragongirl’s grip was too strong. So she swung the poisoned knife at her face.

Elena hadn’t felt the Dragongirl’s feet in her middle — and by the time she realized what had happened, she was already sailing through the air.

Her body flew out of the tent and her back struck the glass floor. She sprang to her feet, but the Dragongirl jumped on top of her. She was much heavier than Elena had expected, and in her moment of surprise, the Dragongirl forced her shoulders to the ground.

Elena decided then that it was time to end the games. She drew Slight and lunged for the Dragongirl’s heart.

With a twist and a flick of her arm, the Dragongirl dodged her blow and hit Slight in the hilt — popping him out of Elena’s grasp. When she twisted back, Elena drove a knee into her ribs.

It was a move she’d used often. The angle and force of her blow should’ve been enough to crack the Dragongirl’s ribcage. Elena waited for the familiar crunching sound, the feeling of bone popping against her knee. But it didn’t come. Instead, Elena felt as if she’d driven her knee into the side of a castle wall.

For half a breath, she thought she might be in trouble. Then the Dragongirl grunted, tipped sideways — and gave Elena the split second she needed to turn the tide.

Her elbow flew into the Dragongirl’s ribs, into the exact spot she’d struck before. While she was off-balance, Elena grabbed her by the shoulders and used their difference in weight to shoot out from under her. The glass bucked and waved so badly that she flew off-course, almost missing her chance to grab Slight. She managed to get a finger on him before the Dragongirl kicked him out of her reach.

She grabbed Elena around one leg and jerked her backwards — leaving the other leg free to deal some damage. Elena twisted around and swung her foot in a deadly arc for the Dragongirl’s face. It connected, and she fell.

Elena was on her in a second. She wrapped her legs around the Dragongirl’s waist and squeezed hard — cutting off the flow of her breath and at the same time, pressing her organs painfully against her bones. Once she had her pinned, Elena drew Shadow.

The Dragongirl stiffened. Her green eyes watched Shadow’s fall; hot blood leaked out from her busted lip. At the very last second, she jerked her head to the side with lightening speed. Elena grunted in frustration when Shadow missed her neck and struck the glass instead.

She leaned against the Dragongirl, using the weight of her body to hold her still. She had to hunch over to dodge the desperate flailing of her legs. Elena’s next thrust would find its mark. She would make sure —

Pain … and then a strange numbness began to creep across Elena’s body.

It started at her hand — where a hairline cut on her knuckles bled freely. She felt the numbness ride through her bloodstream, weakening every limb and filling her mind with a dense fog. Her muscles lost their strength. She glanced down and saw the weapon gripped in the Dragongirl’s hand: the last poisoned knife, the one she’d had hidden in her belt.

And it was perhaps because she watched the knife that Elena didn’t see the Dragongirl’s fist … until it was too late.

*******

When she woke, Elena was confused. The Countess’s poisons never failed: she ought to be dead. How could she possibly be alive?

Numbness still crippled her limbs and she didn’t dare open her eyes. She could feel the rough bonds around her wrists and ankles. They were made of simple rope. She ought to be able to break them easily. She strained and pulled against them, concentrating on the feeling of snapping cord — a feeling she knew well.

But it was as if her arms couldn’t remember their strength. No matter how she fought, her bonds held tight.

Frustration burned Elena’s throat, but she swallowed it back. It would do her no good to start squirming and call attention to herself. She leaned heavily against what felt like a pole in the middle of her back … perhaps they had her tied up in a tent. She used the word
they
because she could hear three voices a few strides away from her. And from what she could tell, they were arguing.

“I can’t believe neither of you heard me fighting for my life,” a woman’s voice said. It was rough and low — making her sound all the more cross. Elena guessed it was the Dragongirl.

“We had full bellies and warm beds,” a man replied. He carried his words strangely, letting them roll off his tongue in a purr. “I don’t think a thunderclap could’ve woken me.”

“Oh? And how about a sharp kick to the rump?” the Dragongirl growled. “Did that work for you?”

He made an annoyed sound. “Well
obviously
it did.”

“Fat lot of good the two of you are. What if there had been more —? Stop it, Jake!”

“I’m only trying to help,” the man called Jake said. He sounded a bit hurt.

“It’ll heal on its own. I won’t look half as good with a beard as you do,” the Dragongirl added wryly.

“Actually, I think I may have figured out what went wrong —”

“Hush,” the first man purred, and Elena tensed as she suddenly felt the weight of eyes upon her. “I do believe our captive is awake.”

Quick steps, and then a strong hand jerked Elena’s head up by her chin. She realized there was no point in pretending any longer, so she opened her eyes.

The Dragongirl’s face was close to hers, and she looked very cross, indeed. She had her dark hair pulled back in a pony’s tail, though a few wisps still fell across her face. And those eyes — Elena swore she could see fire burning behind them.

“Who sent you?” the Dragongirl said.

Elena didn’t answer.

After a moment, the Dragongirl’s red lips bent into a smile. A thin cut split the bottom one, but it wasn’t nearly as bloody as it ought to have been. Elena thought the wound looked at least a day old — but judging by the rise of the moon, she’d only been out for an hour. Maybe two.

How had she healed so quickly?

“Never mind,” the Dragongirl said, as she followed Elena’s searching gaze. “You don’t have to tell me anything. I know you’ve come from Countess D’Mere.”

She scowled to hide her surprise. “You’re wrong.”

The laughter behind the Dragongirl’s eyes made Elena want to gouge them out. “Is that so? Then tell me: how is it that you’ve come to have mindrot poison on your blades? Only the Countess knows the formula.”

Curiosity was making it more difficult for Elena to hide her emotions. She forced herself to shrug. “I often use poisons —”

“Not like this, you don’t.” The Dragongirl let go of her and leaned back. All of Elena’s weapons had been spread out across the floor of the tent: Slight and Shadow, the bandolier of throwing knives, and the three poisoned blades. “I don’t know how she tricked you into working for her, but let me offer you a warning: D’Mere is not at all what she seems. If she draws you close, it’s only to bring you within range of her dagger. You’ve been warned,” she added with a glare.