Page 24 of Shadows and Flames
There was a lot of happiness that coursed through the lad’s large but neat scrawl. He even mentioned relieving Briar of some coin after some heated rounds of The Fool. At least someone paid attention when I taught them card games. “I suppose. Good for him that his binding decision seems to be the right one. Would have been irritating should he regret it.”
And then Nogón surprised me. “Do you? Regret it.” When I rested the letters across my chest and stared widely at him, he ground his jaw and continued. “You were younger than Marco when you took the Acolyte Oath. You had no home and no family, so there were few options that offered the level of opportunity. I know you have felt stifled.”
Stifled? Was that what it was?
I continued to stare at him and searched myself. The Shadow Oath coursed within my veins, weaving dark mist along my soul in a bond that would only break in the finality of death. Sure, I’d seen it as dreadfully… well, final, but stifling?
Being in love the way he was—thatwas stifling. A life on the streets with the fear of hunger, Frenzy, or a knife to the back—thatwas suffocating.
Agreeing to follow Nogón, Leandro, and their father to the Well allowed me tobreathe. Each year as an acolyte was another gulp, each laugh shared between my siblings and me was a deep, sated sigh. Now, I was the predator that walked alleys without a second thought. I had multiple homes in multiple cities and friends I would keep to my grave.
No, when I’d bemoaned the responsibilities of my Oath, I realized, it was not because I was stifled. I was bloodybored.
I swept away his worries with a fluttering of my fingers. “No. I don’t regret taking the hand you extended, if that’s what you’re concerned about. Nor do I regret becoming a Shadow. I complain and bemoan, but don’t you fucking dare take it personally.” My words got harsh at the end, but I didn’t soften my tone.
Elián opened and closed his mouth a few times, struggling to find his words. In a flash, I saw him as the small and silent child whose eyes said everything. When his speech was so halting and difficult that he relied on Leandro to voice his thoughts. Atleast, unless he was singing. Those sort of words always came smoothly.
In Zonoran, my brother whispered,“Thank you. For doing this with me. All of it.”He glanced down at this palm, at Leandro’s name memorialized for as long as Elián continued to live.
I lifted our charge’s letters until the drawings and exclamations filled my vision instead.“Think nothing of it. We are brothers.”
Chapter Eleven
ELIÁN
Three years after her
They did not want us to see their faces.
When Tom and I met with our employers for this contract on the outskirts of Morova. They kept us to a barn, insistent we meet in the middle of the night. The five of them wore cloaks, for goddess’s sake, like commissioning the murder of their fellow merchant and biggest rival was some sacred ritual.
Our race was few, as was the Vyrkos, but our rarity was even more apparent in the human lands. Where they were the majority, and most looked at us with fear, lust, or a combination of both. They were interested or disgusted by the unknown, afraid because of tales brought back and twisted. Or, accurate ones as well.
Now, I straightened my collar. The fabric was a deep violet with amber embroidery woven over it and down my shoulders and chest. Using quick fingers, I tightened the belt in the same motif, closing the jacket over me while leaving underneath bare.
We were to close in, tonight, if the moment presented itself.
“This must be treated delicately. With no witnesses and his guards unaware.”The cloaked merchants had instructed my brother and me as if we were stupid. I could feel Tom’s eyes rolling in the quiet barn as we faced the men and received the first half of our payment. They had not said who they were, but I recognized the sea salt clinging to them underneath their colognes and perfumed clothing.
Wealthy but still taking voyages. So, notthatwealthy.
My hair was dry now, after my quick bath, and it shone as I gave it one last comb. The oil left it slick, smooth in the light of the setting sun streaming through the small window near the mirror. My face was freshly shaved, and the rings in my ears were polished.
I gathered up the top third of my hair and tied it back. Shorter strands still escaped, framing my temples, but I just sighed and tucked them behind my ears.
And breathed.
Smoke came with the action, and it took a few more rounds of breath before I got it under my control. Tonight. I, Mother willing, would see my queen. After years of searching, traversing three continents and enduring crossing the seas, I would meet her deep stare. Feel her in my arms and hear her voice, not just in my dreams.
I would not accept any alternative.
I locked eyes with myself in the mirror, pulse thumping visibly in my throat, and marked this moment. I had dressed for the occasion, blending in with Morova’s upper class to get closer to Paschal Von Herron. I disguised myself as a sheep for this hunt, but I had also dressed for her. My attire was not the pearlescent sort common among Morova’s upper echelon, but the bright Zonoran colors were vibrant and expensive enough.
Would she recognize me? Would she be able to see how I craved her? Loved her?
My throat began to tighten with worry, words unspoken to anyone but myself, and I coughed to clear it. I would not treat her as I had when I was her Shadow. I would share my thoughts, and I would be honest about my emotions. I would not hold back.
And if she still sent me away?
