Page 26 of The Queen's Shadow

“You’ve been through a lot this week, Cassandra,” her sister said softly. “But there’s something you’re not telling me.”

A lump rose in Cassandra’s throat. She wasn’t ready to talk about this with anyone. Not now. Maybe not ever.

“But if you won’t tell me, I can’t help you,” her sister continued. “What I do know is that you can’t keep yourself shut up in here forever.”

“I can't?” Cassandra said, her voice coming out more bitter than she’d intended.

“No,” the queen said. “You cannot. Whatever happened, you are stronger than that. You’re the queen’s shadow.”

And so, Cassandra had gotten up.

She went about her duties in a haze. Some days she practiced archery for hours—but even that was a reminder of the bow she’d lost, of him. Some days she attended court with the queen, standing in her place behind her sister in the formal deep-blue cape of the queen’s shadow. She was thankful for the depth of the hood—that way no one could see her face.

Some days she laid in bed until noon, fighting back nightmares of a black clawing nothingness that threatened to consume her whole, but those were becoming fewer and far between. The queen was right. She was more than this malaise. She was the queen’s shadow. She could act like it.

She dutifully went through the information coming from her contacts about Medira and Ineti, expecting to hear of the wedding any day. But an alliance and a royal wedding took a long time to plan. Even so, the information was eerily silent.

She did manage to gather that Medira had led a force into the enclave and that the rogue Inetians had been thwarted. The enclave’s status in Medira was still to be determined, and the Inetians had not been released to the emperor. There was an ongoing discussion between the two nations as to their fate. Amanakar had been placed under house arrest. Cassandra’s mouth had twisted at that particular news, which Isabel, her best agent, had brought after traveling two days and nights without rest so Cassandra would be the first to know.

The queen had taken this information in stride, as well as Cassandra’s story of what had happened at the enclave. Cassandra had glossed over most of what had happened between her and Arphaxad, and the queen had narrowed her eyes but hadn’t pressed her further. It was just as well. Cassandra might have broken and told her everything.

Most nights, she laid her daggers out on the stand beside her bed: her own, the handle worn and faded; the one Arphaxad had given her when she’d fled the outpost, with its sharp blade; and the one Karim had used to free them, its black handle etched with the golden bird of Ineti. Rendra, Medira, Ineti. She wondered what had happened to Karim, if he’d survived the raid. Memories swirled in her mind, and she tried her best to push them away.

One morning, not long after the news of the enclave raid, Cassandra couldn’t find Tomas at his post. When she asked, the queen said airily that he had gone home to his sick mother in the north of Rendra. Cassandra hoped circumstances weren’t too dire.

The days passed in a haze. The summer heat gave way to the cooler nights of autumn. The soft patter of rain was more often heard on the black tile roof of the palace.

One such afternoon, Cassandra pushed open the door to her room and froze, her fingers still resting on the handle. There in the corner, leaning against the white stucco wall, was a bow. Her heart thudded as she stared at the familiar curve of the wood. It wasn’t just any bow—it was her bow, the one that had been a gift from the queen. The one that had been taken from her at the enclave. The one she’d thought she’d never see again.

Her pulse quickened, and she took a careful step back, her eyes darting around the room for any sign of forced entry. But everything was as she’d left it—the bedsheets still crumpled, her nightdress draped hastily over the back of her desk chair, the stack of unopened correspondence that had been left on her desk that morning by a porter untouched. She moved hurriedly into the room and rifled through the letters, but nothing seemed to be missing.

Her bow. She swallowed hard as she stared at it, a gyre of emotions raging through her. There was only one person who could have left it like this. But that was impossible.

There was a knock on the door, and Cassandra jumped. She balked in surprise as her sister entered. Elena was dressed in her formal court gown, resplendent in gold and white, the sleeves embroidered with delicate roses. The heavy crown of Rendra was twined into her graying hair, which was bound up in an elegant knot.

“I need you to attend me in the throne room immediately,” the queen said without preamble. “An envoy from Medira has arrived.”

“What?” Cassandra said more sharply than she had intended. Her eyes slid to her bow as her pulse spiked. “From Medira?”

The queen nodded. “A foray into a formal alliance.”

Arphaxad’s promise. She blinked. She hadn’t been as attentive as she should have been lately, but her network hadn’t even brought her whispers of this. She realized she hadn’t seen Isabel since the day she’d brought the news of the enclave raid, which was unusual.

“You knew about this?” she demanded.

“Of course.” The queen didn’t quite meet Cassandra’s eyes. “I requested it.”

“Without consulting me?” As the queen’s shadow, she should have been the first to know.

“You haven’t been yourself,” the queen said pointedly.

Guilt tugged at her chest. “I know but—”

“Just be there,” the queen cut her off, then turned and left the room.

A heady mix of excitement and terror twined in her chest as she donned the deep blue cape of the queen’s shadow. She cast another wild look at her bow, hardly daring to hope at what it might mean.

When she entered the throne room, the queen was already seated, as were her most trusted advisors and a few high-ranking officials. Cassandra slipped to her place at the back of the hall just behind the throne where the queen sat, tension winding through her like a cord about to snap.

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