The Shadow Reader (29 page)

Read The Shadow Reader Online

Authors: Sandy Williams

Tags: #Romance, #Fantasy, #Fiction, #General, #Contemporary

BOOK: The Shadow Reader
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“I’ll leave as soon as I can.”
“No rush,” he says. “I have plenty of room.”
“Yeah. This place”—my eyes take in the view outside, the stone archways inside, and the marble fireplace in the next room—“it’s . . . big.”
“Extravagant, you mean.” His crooked grin says he’s not ashamed of the fact. He cuts into his waffles. “The Court doesn’t care where I live so long as it’s near a gate, so I picked a place that suited me.” At the look on my face, he adds, “What? I risk my life for them. I’ve earned this, especially lately.”
No one
needs
a place like this, but I don’t open that debate right now. Instead, I focus on the last part of what he said. “What do you mean by ‘lately’?”
Around a mouthful of waffle, he says, “They’ve been keeping me busy these last few weeks.”
“Busier than usual?”
“Yeah. They used to only need me when the rebels attacked, but they’ve started going on the offensive. Have you heard of the Butcher of Brykeld?”
Slowly, I nod.
“He abducted the Court’s best shadow-reader. She’s probably dead, but they stepped up the search for Jorreb a few weeks ago, started hitting every place the rebels are rumored to be, hoping to . . . What?”
I realize I’m scowling, but I assumed Kyol told him who and what I am. Is there a reason he didn’t? He’s always kept my name a secret, but the rebels know it now. I don’t see why it matters anymore.
“I’m not dead,” I tell Shane.
“You’re not . . .” His eyes widen. “Shit. I thought you just had the Sight. I didn’t know you could read shadows. Shit,” he says again. “You’re lucky to be alive.”
Uncomfortable, I grab my fork. “Do you have people over here often?”
He doesn’t resist the subject change. With a shrug, he slouches back in his chair. “I have people over all the time. As you said, it’s a big house. It can get lonely.”
“You’re lonely, baby?” a groggy voice asks.
The brunette who enters the breakfast room is tall, modelpretty, and dressed in a black robe with, unfortunately, nothing underneath.
“Not with you here, sweetheart,” he says, pressing a kiss to her bare stomach. I stare out the window while he reties her sash.
“Who’s this?” she asks.
“McKenzie.” He loops an arm around her waist. “She’ll be hanging around for a while.”
The girl takes in my long, damp hair, makeup-less face, and plain, long-sleeved T-shirt. “Cousin?” she asks Shane, as if it isn’t possible for him to be interested in someone like me.
He laughs. “No relation. She’s a . . . business acquaintance. Now, why don’t you go get some breakfast?”
After she glides to the kitchen, I ask, “Is she over here often?”
“Carla? Nah. First time.” He shovels a forkful of waffle into his mouth. When he lowers his hand, his cuff almost dips into the syrup on his plate. He shoves up his sleeves.
He has a scar on his right forearm. It’s ugly, close to two inches wide and long, running from his wrist almost all the way to his elbow.
“What happened?” I ask.
His fork freezes halfway to his mouth. He glances at the scar, then at me, and shadows seem to dance in his eyes. His lips tighten. A few more seconds pass, then he says, “Our job is dangerous.” He nods toward my neck. “Is yours from Jorreb?”
My fingers go to the upraised skin. It seems like there should be some residual pain, but the only feeling lingering from my time with Aren is his departing kiss. It’s still screwing with my head.
Just like he intended, I’m sure.
I clear my throat. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to pry.”
Carla returns with an apple and two mugs of coffee. She hands one to Shane, keeps the other for herself.
“Kelly and Joe hooked up last night,” she says, sitting in the chair next to him. He grunts in response. I wish he hadn’t. She takes that as a sign of interest and launches into a gossip session on the sex lives of people at last night’s party. She never once looks my way, but in the middle of an accounting of how many guys Kelly’s been with, Shane gives me a roguish smile, and shrugs.
I’m about to excuse myself from the table when there’s a flash outside the window. Before I can identify the face peering inside, the fae fissures into the breakfast room.
Shane stiffens but doesn’t turn. He isn’t pulled in by the shadows like I am. He doesn’t see their peaks and curves and his hands don’t itch for a pencil.
I squeeze my eyes shut, then focus on the fae. An
abira
tree is etched into the center of his
jaedric
cuirass, so he’s with the Court, but he’s not Taber, the fae Kyol said he’d send for me.
“Both of you are needed. Quickly.” His English is thickly accented.
Carla stops talking. The timing makes it seem like she heard the fae’s words, but a glance tells me she’s frowning at Shane, not at the lightning-covered man standing beside the table.
“Are you listening?” she demands.
“Of course,” he says smoothly, but his brow is furrowed in thought, probably trying to figure out why we’re both being summoned.
Carla crosses her arms. “Then answer my question.”
“I said I was listening.”
“The question
before
that.”
“Now, Shane,” the fae says. Something in his tone tells me this isn’t the first time he’s had to urge Shane to hurry. They’ve worked together before.
“I need to go out for a little while.” Shane scoots his chair back from the table. I’m not comfortable with fissuring out with a fae I don’t know, but I want more information, and since I can’t ask what’s going on with Carla sitting here, I stand, too.
“Out where?” She transfers her glare from Shane to me, then back.
“For a walk,” he says.
She stands. “A walk. Now? With her?”
Their argument is brief. She insists on coming with us. He tells her no flat-out and leaves her in the breakfast room, fuming. No more than three minutes pass before we’re outside, but the fae isn’t happy with the delay. He sets off at what, for him, is a brisk walk, which means Shane and I are jogging to keep up.
“Where are you fissuring us?” I ask.
He barely glances my way. “Haeth.”
Haeth is a city in the southeastern corner of the Realm. It’s near the Adaris Mountains. I’ve only been there once, several years ago, to use its gate. With the Kerrel Ocean to its north and the mountains to the east, it’s a beautiful place, one I wouldn’t mind returning to if bloodshed pretty much wasn’t guaranteed. The Court must have received information saying the rebels are there. Whether they are or not, I don’t know.
Shane’s house backs up to a golf course. It’s mid-morning and the sky is crystal clear, so we aren’t the only ones out. Groups of golfers are waiting for the people in front of them to play so they can take their turns. They’re not happy when they have to hold their swings while we cross the course.
“Did the sword-master send you to get me?” I ask, glad Shane is with me so it doesn’t look like I’m talking to myself.
“Radath,” the fae answers.
“The lord general? He usually summons me through Taltrayn.”
When we reach the woods on the far side of the course, I take the imprinted necklace off my wrist and slip it into my pocket. The fae will give us anchor-stones when we reach the gate, and if I fissured with two against my skin, I’d become lost in the In-Between.
“I’m following my orders,” the fae says.
“Is Taltrayn in Haeth?”
When he doesn’t answer, I stop walking. “I’m not going unless he’s there.” I’ve shadow-read with fae other than Kyol before, but not often, and it was always with someone I knew. Besides, I
just
escaped the rebels, and I told Kyol I want to retire. I don’t want to be thrust back into the war.
Shane stops beside me. “I’ve gotta say I support her, Daz. Something tells me Taltrayn will be pissed if she ends up in Haeth.”
Shane’s backing surprises me. He doesn’t seem like the type of guy who gets involved in things that don’t really impact him.
Daz turns, impatience etched into his face. “We have no time to discuss this.”
“You can fissure me to the palace,” I say, “but I’m not going to Haeth.”
Leaves crunch to our right. Another fae approaches through the woods. He’s vaguely familiar, but I don’t think he’s one of Kyol’s swordsmen. Most likely, he serves under Radath. Since one fae can’t fissure two humans, his presence makes sense.
“What is wrong?”
the new fae asks.
Daz tells him I’m refusing to go to Haeth. I stare at the ground, pretending not to listen as they discuss what to do with me. It’s convenient, though, being able to understand most of what they’re saying, but their conversation makes me uneasy, too. According to them, Radath thinks they can find the false-blood if they attack Haeth. Whether that false-blood is Sethan or Aren, I can’t tell.
The new fae holds up a hand, stopping Daz midsentence.
“I will fissure Shane to Haeth. Do what you will with the shadow-reader.”
He motions to Shane, who gives me an almost sheepish shrug. “See you around.”
When they leave, Daz studies me, not looking at all happy. Finally, he lets out a breath and says, “I will take you to the palace.”
NINETEEN
 
T
HE FAE KEEPS his word. We fissure to the Silver Palace’s heavily guarded western entrance. Behind me is the outlying city of Corrist and in front is a wall of silver that reaches high into the sky. The portcullis at its base is half-raised. A contingent of Court fae wait on the other side, crossbows nocked and aimed. They lower their weapons only after Daz says something about the deceit of
kimkis
. At least, I think that’s what he says. It must be a pass-phrase because the guards let us enter.
The capital’s wealthiest merchants have shops inside the walls. The streets are crowded, but we travel quickly—or rather, as quickly as I can since my human pace slows Daz down—and enter beneath the Silver Palace’s southernmost spire. I’ve never toured any of Europe’s castles, which is a shame since it would be easy to have Kyol fissure me over there, but I imagine the interiors are similar in some ways: the stone walls, the intricate tapestries, the woven carpets running down the length of the corridor. Not the orbs set into sconces, though. They cast a blue-white light over the stone walls, subduing the atmosphere, making it feel cool and quiet.
“Wait here,” Daz says. He heads toward the king’s hall before I have a chance to say okay.
There are worse places to wait, though. I’m in the palace’s sculpture garden. With its marble floor, glass ceiling, and chiseled stone statues, the place is beautiful. Serene, too. The open-air courtyard is drenched with the morning’s sunlight. It spills over the fae sitting on stone benches or standing in clutches, deep in conversation.
“McKenzie?”
I don’t recognize the voice, wouldn’t recognize the fae either if he didn’t have a braid of
premthyste
in his silky gray hair. It’s been a while since I’ve seen Lord Raen, elder of Cyneayen, high noble of Tayshken, but now I see Kelia in the slant of his nose and the shape of his eyes. Those eyes dart around as if he’s afraid someone will see him talking to me. Every fae here
will
notice us—the
edarratae
make me kind of hard to miss.
“McKenzie,” he says again. He looks toward the sky as if he can find an English translation for what he wants to say written in the wispy clouds.
“My daughter, Kelia.”
He takes an unsteady breath, looks at me, and emphasizes,
“
Kelia.
Is she okay?”
I stand there, force a confused frown, and pretend not to understand him, but a knot of sympathy tightens in my stomach.
“Sidhe.”
He runs a hand over his face.
“You . . . you would know her name, I think, if you had met her. I need . . .”
He glances around the sculpture garden again.
“I need a translator, but it’s unwise . . .”
I can’t follow the rest of what he says. Poor guy. I don’t know how long Kelia’s been with the rebellion, but he’s obviously distraught over it. I want to comfort him, to tell him she’s okay or she will be, once I find a way to make the Court release Naito. Instead, I cross my arms and keep my mouth shut.
“Walk with me a moment. Walk.”
Lord Raen moves his middle and forefinger like miniature legs.
I’m uncomfortable with it, but I fall into step beside him. Fae are looking at us now. Some of those clustered in conversation have switched the topic of discussion to us, I’m sure. Raen ignores them, staring at the marble floor as we pass another sculpture. I don’t know what it’s called, but Kyol told me it represents the
Tar Sidhe
, the magically powerful fae who ruled the Realm centuries ago. I think the figures look like they represent the elements, though I don’t know why there are five instead of four. Earth, wind, fire, air, and . . .

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