It was very late by the time Lilia retired to her chamber for the night. She was so weary that it felt an effort even to think, which was just as well for the events of the evening both alarmed and frightened her. Her eyes stung, and her feet felt as if they were filled with wet sand.
The room they’d given her was next to Dain’s, while Saul’s chamber was further down the hallway. Saul retired to his chamber without a backward glance, while Dain hesitated in the doorway, his gaze going to the two enchanters who had followed Lilia to her chamber, and who were now taking their places either side of her door.
Dain watched the two men—one of whom was Brand, the young enchanter who’d spoken up during the council—his expression hardening. He then shifted his attention back to Lilia. “I’m just a few feet away. Call out, if you need help.”
Lilia nodded, grateful for his concern. “Goodnight, Dain.”
Ignoring her two guards, for they were reminders of her status here, Lilia went into her chamber and closed the door firmly behind her. She then threw the iron bolt shut.
Leaning up against the smoothly sanded wood, she cast a bleary-eyed gaze around her new lodgings. Like the rest of this fortress, the room was austere. Cell-like with unadorned walls and a freshly scrubbed flagstone floor, it had a single shuttered window. A narrow sleeping pallet rested against one wall with a low table next to it, where a jug of water and a wooden cup sat. Her leather pack sat against the wall, her cloak on a peg behind the door.
It was the first time she’d had any real privacy since leaving Orin. Yet she found herself not caring about the relative comfort. It was hard to feel grateful when you were under house-arrest.
Yawning, Lilia crossed to the bed and sat down. After the evening’s events, she felt bone-weary. It hurt her head even to think. She unbuckled her boots and kicked them off before lying down, fully clothed on the bed.
I’ll undress in a moment.
That was her last thought before sleep claimed her.
Lilia awoke with a raging thirst, rumbling stomach and a headache. She opened her eyes to see pale sunlight filtering in through the cracks in the shutters.
She sat up and rubbed sleep frown her eyes, attempting to get her bearings.
Where am I? Why am I so tired?
Memories of the day before crashed over her like a breaking wave, and she stifled a groan.
The Council.
Ryana.
House arrest.
Downing a cup of stale water, Lilia rose to her feet. Then, she crossed to the window and threw open the shutters.
Although it was a dull morning, she squinted against the light. Fog shrouded the surrounding peaks, but she could still see for leagues down the green valley. It was if she stood high upon a mountain eyrie. A thick, dark blanket of conifers covered the lower slopes of the mountains followed by a patchwork of fields below. The river was little more than a silver thread at this height. Once again, the sun hid behind a bank of low cloud.
“Finally, you’re awake—I’ve been watching you snore for hours.”
Lilia turned to the sound of her shadow’s voice—one that no longer terrified her as it once had. Even so, she wanted to see where it was lurking this morning. She found it, lolling against the wall, stretched out so tall that it was nearly twice her height. “I don’t snore.”
“You do when you sleep on your back.”
Lilia leaned against the stone window ledge and folded her arms across her chest. “Good morning to you too.”
“I’m pleased you finally have a chamber to yourself,” her shadow continued. “I get tired of whispering in your ear when the others are around.”
“Did you see what happened at the Council last night?” Lilia asked, ignoring her shadow’s chatter. Her temples ached and she felt weak and tired—she wasn’t in the mood for banter.
“I did.”
“So you know I’m a prisoner here?”
“I do—and it’s not good news for me.”
Lilia huffed. “It’s not great for me either.”
“Yes but it probably means they’re planning on taking the stone from you at some point,” her shadow replied, slithering along the wall toward her like an oil stain, “and if they do that, I cease to exist.”
Lilia shifted uncomfortably, willing her shadow not to come any closer. The sight of it didn’t send her into a mindless panic as it once had, yet even so she didn’t trust it.
“You’re afraid?” she asked, curious.
“Not really,” it drawled, placing spidery hands on the window ledge and peering out at the gloomy morning, “only frustrated. I’ve had such fun of late, seen and lived so much. Now I feel trapped, like my wings have been clipped.”
Lilia considered its words and felt an unexpected stab of pity. She forgot that the world was new to her shadow. All the things she took for granted—the feel of the wind on her face, the smell of wood smoke, the sound of birdsong—were exciting discoveries to it.
Lilia’s stomach growled, reminding her that she had not eaten since noon the day before. She felt light-headed and slightly sick; she needed to eat. It was time to find the others.
“We’ll continue this conversation later,” she promised her shadow before turning away from the window. “If I don’t eat something soon, I’m going to collapse. Plus, I need to find out what they’ve got planned for me.”
She stepped out into the corridor to find two men attired in charcoal robes waiting outside her chamber. Lilia hadn’t seen them before—neither had been at last night’s council. They were both young, barely older than her, and they watched Lilia with interest as she stepped outside her chamber and pulled the door shut.
One of the young men, who was stocky with curly brown hair, smiled at her. “Good morning, Lilia—my name’s Gunner. Did you sleep well?”
Lilia didn’t smile back. “Fine, thank you. Where are the others?”
“In the feasting hall, having breakfast,” the young man replied, still smiling. “Come, we shall take you to them.”
They led Lilia down three levels to a great hall situated on the ground level of the House of Light and Darkness. Despite its size, the feasting hall was as austere and sparsely furnished as Lilia’s chamber. Long wooden tables lined the rectangular space and low hearths burned at each end, taking the chill off the damp air. There was a raised dais at the far end of the hall, where Thrindul and a select group of enchanters sat.
Lilia was dismayed to see both Dain and Saul were seated with the High Enchanter. Her step slowed as she crossed the hall, aware that all eyes were now upon her. There were at least sixty men and women in this hall, breaking their fast, and they all seemed to be staring at her.
Lilia ignored them, her gaze fixing instead upon the fresh bread and butter, porridge, cream and honey that lined the tables. The aroma made her aching stomach twist. However, despite her hunger, she approached the dais reluctantly. Thrindul frightened her; she’d have preferred to have breakfast elsewhere.
“Morning.” She greeted them, taking a seat next to Dain on a low bench halfway down the table.
Opposite, Saul gave her a lazy smile before dipping a piece of bread in broth. “Slept well?”
“Like the dead.”
Dain gave her a sidelong glance. “No one bothered you overnight?”
She shook her head, helping herself to a big bowl of porridge. “I bolted the door from the inside.” She reached for a pot of cream and poured it generously over her porridge.
“You are safe here,” Thrindul’s voice boomed across the table. He sat at the head, flanked by Asher and the auburn-haired woman, Irana. His white hawk sat, hunched on the back of his chair, watching Lilia with pitiless, gleaming eyes. “There is no need to fear for your safety.”
Lilia shrugged. “If you say so.” She knew her gesture and tone were dismissive, rude even, but she wasn’t happy here and couldn’t pretend she was. Steeling herself, she met Thrindul’s eye. It was time, she got some answers out of these people. “How long are you keeping me here?”
Thrindul gave a long-suffering sigh. “As long as necessary.”
“What does that mean?”
“We must discuss the best way forward, and King Nathan must eventually be informed.” Thrindul’s face pinched as he spoke of the king. “Asher’s observations last night worried me—I want to do some research before decisions are made.”
Lilia clenched her jaw. She’d never met a man who could speak so pompously yet say so little. “So what's going to happen to Ryana?”
“That's not your concern,” the High Enchanter replied before taking a bite of bread.
“Why do you care anyway?” Saul smirked from across the table. “Ryana used you—used all of us to try and buy forgiveness.”
“I don’t think it’s as simple as that,” Lilia replied. She remembered the sorrow, the desperation, in Ryana’s eyes the night before. “You’ve got a short memory, Saul. Have you forgotten how many times she saved us on the journey here?” She glanced back at Thrindul. “Surely you won’t lock her up forever?”
The High Enchanter’s strong-featured face tensed. “You don’t seem to grasp the gravity of what your friend did,” he rumbled. “She didn’t just betray her Order—she gave part of The King Breaker to a group whose sole purpose is to free The Shadow King. She risked the ruin of us all.”
“Incarceration is too good for her,” Irana muttered from Thrindul’s left. Her angular face was sharp in the watery light filtering in from the high windows. “But now she’s in the Vault I hope she rots there.”
Lilia didn't answer. Thrindul seemed to think her a fool, but she did understand what Ryana had done. Only watching Ryana being dragged away, her face gaunt and ashen, Lilia had realized that she considered the woman her friend.
Now, the realization that Ryana might never again see daylight upset Lilia.
“Worry not, Lilia,” Brand, the young man with the chubby face, spoke up. “Ryana won’t come to any harm.” He gave her a mildly flirtatious look. “You have our thanks for bringing The King Breaker to us. You must be tougher than you look, to have kept the stone safe for so many months.”
Lilia frowned before motioning to the two men who sat near her. “Dain and Saul are a large reason why the stone’s safe.”
“Then our thanks go to them too.”
“I’m touched by your gratitude.” Saul eyed Brand over the rim of his tankard of milk. “Does it mean Dain and I can stay here for a few days longer?”
“We will seek an audience with the king in the next day or two,” Thrindul informed him. “I’d appreciate it if you’d stay until that’s over with.”
Saul raised a dark eyebrow. “Why?”
“The king’s trust in this Order took a severe blow ten years ago—and it’s never been restored. It’s important you are with us when we go before King Nathan, otherwise he might think we have deceived him in some way. You can tell him how you found the stone.”
Saul’s mouth twisted. “I’m not sure I want the King of Rithmar to know of my presence here. Reoul of Anthor’s son won’t be welcome.”
Thrindul tensed. “Lie to him of your real identity if you wish.”
Lilia swallowed a mouthful of porridge and exchanged a wary glance with Dain. She hadn’t warmed to the High Enchanter the night before; but she liked him even less this morning. There was something vain and scheming about him, as if he was constantly plotting, planning to ensure each situation worked out to his advantage.
She was aware then that her right thigh pressed gently against Dain’s under the table. The contact sent a frisson of heat down her leg. Layers of clothing separated them, but the firmness of his thigh against hers made a strange excitement churn in the pit of her belly.
It was distracting.
Discreetly, she shifted her leg to the left so they were no longer touching. She felt his gaze remain on her, willing her to meet his once more, but she pretended not to notice, focusing instead on the half-empty bowl of porridge before her.
“I hear you saw Asher at work yesterday?” Brand’s question came as a welcome interruption.
Lilia nodded, remembering the miraculous way he’d healed that farmer’s terrible leg wound. “Aye, he has incredible skill.”
Brand grinned, before glancing over at Asher. “Her cheeks are pink—looks like you’ve got yet another admirer.”
Lilia froze, aware that her cheeks were warm—although not for the reason Brand supposed. Fortunately, Asher didn’t dignify the younger man’s comment with a response, merely bestowing him with a withering look.
Oblivious to Asher’s cool reaction, or the glare Dain was now fixing him with, Brand turned back to Lilia, still smiling. “Would you like to see how the Dark is wielded?” he asked.
“She already has,” Dain answered, his tone clipped. “Ryana gathered the Dark a number of times on the way here.”
Brand’s smile didn’t slip. “Ah, but it’s not the same thing as watching us at work in the Hall of Charms. There’s a session this morning, you’re all welcome to attend.”
Lilia glanced at Dain once more, and saw he was frowning, his narrowed gaze still fixed upon Brand.
He’s jealous, she realized with a jolt. Clearly he didn’t like Brand’s clumsy attempts to flirt with her.
“Shall we?” she asked, before glancing over at Saul.
Saul shrugged. “If it’ll pass the time, why not?” He then shot Dain a challenging look, coupled with a wicked smile. “Are you joining us, or will I have Lilia’s company all to myself?”
Dain glared at him. “No chance.”