The doors burst open, slamming back against the wall with a force that caused the room to shake.
Lilia watched a writhing black mass surge into the room. She cringed back against the window-sill, expecting the entity to swallow her whole. Instead, it disintegrated into tatters—shadows that scattered like autumn leaves into the dark corners of the room.
A group of figures stood in the doorway—a tall, white-robed man in their midst.
Thrindul strode forward, his face formidable. “The King Breaker. Is it safe?”
Lilia nodded, pulling herself to her feet.
Dain pushed his way through the crowd. He was still grasping his throat with one hand, his shoulders hunched in pain, his gaze glassy. “Did he hurt you?” he rasped, barely able to get the words out.
“He tried.” Now that the shock was wearing off, Lilia felt chilled to the bone, her limbs trembling beneath her.
Brand emerged from behind Thrindul, crossing the room to the blood-stained window-sill. His round face was hard as he peered outside. “What happened to Saul?”
“I stabbed him and he fled. He scaled the roof-top like a spider.”
Lilia reached under her shirt, reassuring herself that The King Breaker was, indeed, still there. She pulled out the stone; despite the dull rainy day, its milky surface swirled and shimmered as she gazed upon it.
“You fought him off?” Brand’s voice was incredulous.
Lilia shook her head. “I only managed to stab him because my shadow intervened.” She turned to Dain. “Gunner and Lars?”
Dain stared back at her. There was no need for him to say a word; the look in his eyes told her they were both dead.
Asher stepped forward. “You acted bravely, Lilia.” She might have thought he was patronizing her, if not for the concern etched across his face. Asher’s gaze flicked to Dain. “I’ll need to take a look at your neck in a moment. You’re lucky—that move could have crushed your windpipe.”
Dain nodded. “I know,” he wheezed. “I thought he had.”
A few feet away Thrindul and Irana were speaking together, heads bowed close, in low voices. Feeling Lilia’s gaze upon them, the pair ceased their talk and straightened up.
“What now?” Lilia asked, trying to keep fear out of her voice. “Are you going to lock me up like Ryana?”
The High Enchanter frowned. “Not unless you give us reason to. However, for now it’s best you keep to your chamber. I will have your supper brought to you later.”
Lilia’s pulse quickened. The man was a liar. She had seen the look on their faces as they’d whispered about her. They were terrified of losing their precious stone. She felt sick as she realized Saul wasn’t the only one here who posed a danger.
Mouth dry, Lilia turned to Asher. “I’d like to see Ryana—can you take me to her?”
Asher nodded and was about to speak when Thrindul cut in. “You have no need to see Ryana. That woman is in disgrace and receives no visitors.”
“But I—”
“You will do as you’re told.” Thrindul swiveled to where Irana and Brand stood to his left. “You two—take the girl back to her chamber and make sure she remains there.”
Asher took the stairs down to the Vault. He descended slowly, careful on the mossy steps, holding an oil-lamp aloft to light his way.
The air was cold down here and smelt musty and damp; the odor of a space that never saw sunlight. Asher rarely ventured down into the Vault—until Ryana they’d kept no prisoners here, and the few chambers housing items of value were locked tight. Only Thrindul held the key.
Asher’s boots scraped on damp stone as he reached the bottom of the stairs and made his way along a hallway. The passage had been crudely constructed; hewn out of the rock beneath the building above, the rooms lining it little more than alcoves.
There were no guards here. Servants brought meals down for the prisoner a few times a day, and were escorted by enchanters when they had to empty the chamber pot, but the rest of the time, Ryana sat alone in her cell.
The largest alcove, the cell sat at the far end of the hallway. The light of the two cressets burning on the walls illuminated the wet stone.
It wasn’t a healthy place for a prisoner, Asher thought. The air was too damp. If Ryana remained down here she would eventually develop lung problems.
Stopping before her cell, he lifted his lamp to light up the cramped space within.
Ryana sat upon a stone ledge, dressed as he’d last seen her in hunting leathers, her travel-stained cloak wrapped around her for warmth. Her thick blonde hair hung in lifeless hanks around her pale face; her steel-blue eyes were haunted.
She looked at him, blinking owl-like in the flare of light from his lantern.
“Asher?” she croaked. “Is that you?”
“Hello, Ryana,” he replied, setting down the lantern at his feet. “Thought I’d better come see how we’re treating you.”
“I’d wager you’re jealous.” She gave him a humorless grin. “Best lodgings in the House, as you can see.”
Asher sighed and leaned up against the bars separating them. Long moments of silence stretched out before he spoke again. “I’m sorry—this wasn’t my choice.”
“I know.”
“I did warn you about the welcome you’d receive here.”
“You did—but I had to come anyway.”
Asher ran a hand over his face. “Saul just tried to take the stone from Lilia.”
He heard Ryana shift, the thud of her boots hitting the stone floor as she stiffly rose to her feet and crossed to the bars. “Did he—”
Asher shook his head. “She fought him off … with the help of her shadow.”
“Where’s he now?”
“He jumped out the window and disappeared, although he’s injured. Lilia stabbed him.”
He glanced over at where Ryana stood, just a couple of feet away, and watched her smile. “Good—I never trusted that bastard.
“We’ve got enchanters out looking for him now.”
Her smile twisted. “You’ll never find him—he’s too slippery.”
Asher held her gaze for a moment, before he reached into the deep pocket of his robe for a clay bottle with a cork stopper. “I brought you something to take the edge off.”
Ryana inclined her head, her smile turning bitter. “And there I was thinking you’d come down here to free me.”
He snorted, passing her the bottle through the bars, watching as she unstoppered it, and raised it to her lips. Just before she did so, Ryana halted. She brought the bottle up to her nose and sniffed, her brow creasing. “Eld?”
Asher shrugged. “Just a few drops to make the wine more potent.”
Ryana met his gaze, lowering the bottle slightly. “You should be careful …”
Asher lifted an eyebrow. “If you don’t want it, I’ll have the bottle back. I haven’t come down here for a lecture on the evils of Eld. I use the oil daily in the Hall of Healing, I know what it does.”
She watched him, although she made no move to give back the bottle. Instead, she sat down upon the floor, crossing her long legs. “Sit down,” she said wearily. “We never did catch-up properly.”
Asher did as bid, taking a seat upon the cold stone floor and facing her.
With a sigh, she lifted the bottle to her lips and took a large gulp, before spluttering as the liquid irritated her throat.
“Careful,” he warned. “It’s strong.”
“Here,” she gasped, holding it out to him through the bars. “Take a sip—I don’t like drinking alone.”
Asher swallowed a laugh. He didn’t have a problem with it.
Wordlessly, he took the bottle, raised it to his lips and drank. The peppery, resinous odor of Eld filled his nostrils, obliterating the flavor of the sloe wine. He felt it warm his belly and flower outward in an enveloping blanket, the effects of the Eld almost immediate. Then he handed the bottle back to Ryana.
“You look like you enjoyed that far too much,” she observed.
His mouth quirked. He could see she wanted him to open up, talk about his life here in the Order—but that wasn’t going to happen. “What have you been doing this last decade?” he asked.
“Keeping my head down, earning a living with my voice.”
He grinned then. “You’ve been working as a scop?”
She nodded. “I finally put my only natural talent to good use.”
Asher watched her. He knew she’d met that musician, Gael, at a tavern in the capital, where she’d sung some evenings.
Gael—who’d been working for The Shade Brotherhood. Ryana had insisted she’d had no idea of her lover’s real identity, and Asher wanted to believe her.
He leaned forward, resting his forehead on the cool bars. A headache was looming. Ignoring the ache in his temples, Asher reached his right hand through the bars. Unspeaking, Ryana took his hand. Her grip was ice-cold but firm. Even young and love-struck she’d been strong.
“What a mess,” he murmured. First the weather had changed, then the shadow creatures began wreaking havoc—and now the second piece of the key The Brotherhood needed to release their master had been found. He glanced up, meeting her gaze. “We’re all teetering on the brink, Ryana—hanging on by our fingernails.”
Her expression was tired as she nodded. “Then you’d better get ready for the fall,” she murmured. “It’s going to be a long one.”
The knock on Lilia’s door roused her from a doze. She’d stretched out for a nap earlier but had fallen into a deep sleep.
Groggy, she sat up. “Yes?”
“Evening, Lilia—it’s Brand,” a male voice sounded behind the door. “We’ve got your supper.”
Yawning, Lilia rose to her feet and padded, barefoot, over to the door. She threw back the bolt and pulled the door open to find Brand and one of the enchanters of the Light: the blonde girl, Rina. She was the one who had greeted them upon their arrival at the capital.
Rina was holding a tray of bread, cheese and fruit, and a jug of what smelled like watered down wine. She smiled timidly at Lilia, before carrying the tray inside and placing it on the table next to the window.
Despite the rainy day, Lilia had left the shutters open. Outdoors, it was growing dark; a wet, misty shroud settling over the Royal City as night fell.
“It’s getting late,” Brand announced, following Rina into the room. He crossed to the window and pulled the shutters closed, latching them. “We thought you’d be getting hungry.”
Truthfully, Lilia didn’t have any appetite this evening. She’d been locked away in her room since mid-afternoon and had the sinking feeling Thrindul had no intention of letting her out of her chamber the following day.
“Do you know how Dain is?” she asked.
Rina smiled. “He’s fine. Asher’s tended to his throat.” The girl’s cheeks flushed slightly as she mentioned the leader of the Enchanters of the Light.
“Don’t worry about your friend,” Brand spoke up. “I’ll make sure he pays you a visit tomorrow morning.”
Lilia followed the two enchanters to the door. “What will happen to Gunner and Lars’s bodies? Will there be a funeral for them?”
“Asher’s looking after them in the House of Healing for the moment,” Rina replied. “He has sent word to their families.”
Lilia’s chest constricted as she remembered the thud of those knives embedding in flesh. Their deaths weren’t her fault, but she still felt to blame. With difficulty, she pushed the sense of guilt aside and forced herself to focus on her own situation. “Is Thrindul really going to keep me in here?”
Brand turned, his expression contrite. “I know this is hard, but it’s for your own safety. Saul’s still at large—and he might try to take The King Breaker again.”
Lilia swallowed. She hadn’t considered that possibility. Saul was certainly desperate enough.
“Don’t worry.” Rina placed a hand on Lilia’s arm. “We’ll look after you.”
After Rina and Brand had left her alone, taking up positions outside the door, Lilia walked over to the table where her supper lay and took a seat. Sighing, she swiveled and glanced down at where her shadow stretched beneath her feet. “It’s unlike you to be silent,” she said after a few moments.
A soft laugh sounded. “You usually prefer it that way.”
“Not tonight.” Lilia picked up a piece of bread, toying with it. “I just wanted to thank you … you saved my life today.”
A hush followed her words for a moment or two before her shadow responded gently. “No, Lilia—I saved us both.”
Lilia picked at her supper and sipped a cup of watered-down wine before retiring for the night. Even though she’d slept most of the afternoon away, she still felt bone-weary.
She imagined she was still in shock from Saul’s attack. There had been moments in that room when she’d thought he would kill her. She was glad of her shadow’s company tonight, especially since she couldn’t speak with Dain or Ryana. She didn’t want to be alone; there was comfort in listening to another’s voice.
Stripping down to a thin linen tunic, she climbed under the covers and snuggled down, relaxing onto the hard straw pallet. She had meant to reach across and extinguish the lantern that burned on the table next to her pallet, but suddenly couldn’t summon the will to do so.
Exhaustion pulled her down into its waiting arms and moments later, she was sleeping deeply.
It was some time later when a draft of cold air feathered across Lilia’s face, waking her from a dream. She’d been back at The Grey Anchor, listening to Ryana sing of kings and queens past.
She woke slowly, emerging from the fog of sleep with difficulty, as if she were wading through a bog on a misty morning and could only see a hand-span before her.
The mist cleared and Lilia blinked, bringing her surroundings into focus.
She wasn’t alone in the room. A face was staring down at her—a young man with chubby cheeks and blond hair that flopped over one eye.
Brand.
Lilia stifled a gasp and opened her mouth to demand why he was in her room. Yet she found she could not form the words—it was as if a great boulder sat on her chest, pinning her to the pallet.
Watching her, Brand smiled. “Your shadow can’t save you this time.”