I push down a swell of emotions I thought I’d buried deep and begin rummaging through the assortment of goods Leanna sent. It’s all very unsurprising: hair combs and other adornments, four flimsy dresses, and a small variety of lethal concoctions. I smile when my eyes land on the obsidian daggers sitting at the base of the wardrobe. A small favor left by the master of shadows himself. I loose a breath when my hands slide across the familiar form of the blades, and some of the tension leaks out of my body.
Stars above, grant him their favor.
I may not be able to take the blades ashore in A’kori, but I sleepfitfully without them, and they will at least serve their purpose throughout the voyage.
Sitting on the edge of the bed I turn the daggers over in my hands. Lately it has begun to feel as though there was never a time when my nightmares did not plague me. Over the years, I have managed to keep Leanna in the dark about them, but there was no hiding them from the shadows. Vakesh knew the moment they began.
I am suddenly all too aware of the images I was unable to chase from my mind this morning. Four days without sparring, perhaps weeks or even months if I fail to obtain an immediate audience with the king. I’ve never had to make a concession like it and have been quick to find my release each morning in the ring with Bront. What others perceived as diligent practice I use to hide a great weakness. One of the first lessons Leanna ever taught me: perception is the greatest strength of any Fea Dien.
I assure myself that Vakesh will have ideas on how I can manage my demon after the crossing. I just can’t afford to let him know how bad the dreams have become in the time since he last witnessed them.
He’s been gone for years, tying up loose ends on the never-ending bombardment of missions Leanna crafted for him. If I thought my life was hard before knowing Vakesh, the last four years have been the hardest yet. I haven’t felt whole since we’ve been parted. Not that there is a single soul on the continent I will speak those words aloud to.
I pinch one of the obsidian blades between two fingers and with a quick flick of my wrist throw it into the air. It spins in a timing I know well, and I catch it by the hilt when it falls back toward my hand.
I can’t help but wonder how Vakesh managed to obtain a mission that put us aboard the same ship. The decision couldn’t have been Leanna’s. She would never allow us to be out of sight together for so long. If she knew, I wouldn’t put it past her to ensure the shadow master never makes it to port. I only hope that the years of superficial greetings I have exchanged with him are over and that, finally, we can settle back into the ease we’d once had with each other. In this moment, I know that there will never be anything I want more.
CHAPTER 2
THE SOUTHERN KEEP, LA’TARI
Eight Years Earlier
“Yes, Shivaria, youmustmeet the new master of shadowsandtrain with him. Don’t ask me again.”
Leanna has never been a patient woman and though I hadn’t actually repeated myself, I’m not surprised when she responds like I’ve drawled the question at her eight times. I hate my shadow lessons, almost as much as I love my sparring lessons with Bront.
The previous shadow master was a slip of a man with thin, oily, black hair and a face so pocked it somehow distracted from the intense crook of his nose, though that wasn’t why I hated him. He had no business being the master of anything. He was prideful, arrogant, and never willing to train me beyond whatheconsidered adequate.
Years before, I made the mistake of besting him at a task in which he himself had trained me. The man had no idea just how many hours I spent on my own perfecting the skill. It was something I would later consider simple, but at the time, with a horde of onlookers and my palms sweating out the adrenaline shooting through my veins, it seemed monumental.
I sat on the ground before an intricately locked chest, the shadow master doing the same beside me. My tools barely entered the lock before the lid sprung open with a loud pop. It was a warm summer day, and a small crowd gathered to watch. Even serious Bront had thrown a fist in the air and whooped for me while others clapped and some laughed. It was the laughter that earned me the withering glare of my instructor.
For the remaining time I knew the man, he simply trained me to fail at everything. He would gloat and mock my botched attempts, louder when anyone was present to hear. Frustrated, I complained to Leanna. I’m not sure why. I knew better by then to expect any help from her. She only scoffed at my plight and told me that managing people was as much a part of being Fea Dien as mastering the shadows.
I would never be Drakai if I failed to pass my shadow training. I started skipping meals, the only breaks in my heavily scheduled days, and spied on the shadow master as he taught the students he found worthy of his so-called skill. I gleaned what little I could and practiced late into the night, all to barely keep up with Leanna’s exacting expectations.
I was glad for the break in my training when the shadow master was sent off on a simple, low-risk reconnaissance mission and never returned. There seemed to be some debate as to what might have happened to him. But I am sure he was found out by our enemies and killed, probably by a well-trained house cat.
This morning marks a month without shadow lessons. And though I know I need them, nothing on Terr could excite me less than the new master of shadow’s unannounced arrival. Leanna’s face holds its usual mixture of lovely and brooding storms as I follow her across the deadwood yard. A cascade of long yellow hair tumbles down her back, and she’s wearing her pristine fighting leathers, the ones she usually reserves for special occasions. I doubt anyone else will notice, but it’s a fact that certainly piques my interest.
Following Leanna’s gaze, I find a tall man leaning nonchalantly against an old, decaying oak, his arms folded across his chest, full lips tugging up at the corners as he eyes me expectantly. I expected him to look older, though the hair that frames his strong jaw is pure white, a sure sign that he shares in the disgrace of my feyn heritage. Physically, he is nothing like theprevious master. The man who stands before me is broad in the shoulders and, even below the loose, white tunic he wears, his muscles are well-defined. His leather pants could be tighter. No, really, they can’t be, and I can see from the corner of my eye that Leanna is appreciating the sight.
I roll my eyes.
Stars above. I hope these two don’t find it necessary to complicate my life by falling into bed together.
A cheeky smile adorns his face, and he has an eyebrow quirked at me when I look back as if the man can read every petulant thought in my head. Schooling my features, I settle myself next to Leanna when she stops in front of him.
He breaks the quiet of the deadwood and says, “Thank you for coming to meet with me on such short notice.” I like his voice, it’s deep and soft, falling on my ears like a gentle breeze. My skin prickles at the sound and goosebumps rise on my arms, hidden beneath my dark fighting leathers.
“There is no need to thank me. I am happy to come whenever you choose to summon me,” Leanna says sweetly, suggestively.
Did she just say that? Gross.
It takes everything I have to keep my face placid and suppress the bile threatening to rise from my stomach. I’m surprised when the smile falls from the man’s face, not cruelly or dismissively, it’s just gone. Leanna stiffens beside me when she notices the same, then places a hand on the small of my back and pushes me forward.
“Shivaria, meet the new master of shadows, Vakesh.” All the sweetness is gone from her voice as she turns on her heel. “I’ll leave you two to get acquainted.”
