Page 47 of Heart of the Shadow King

“Theodre.” I stop, turn, and face him. We are nearing the garden entrance now. The last thing I need is my brother trailing me all the way to the Urzulhar. “Where I go and what I do are none of your concern. You must find your own ways of passing the time. Not,” I add with vehemence, “wooing trolde ladies! Not if you wish to keep your head on your shoulders anyway.”

“Oh, come off your high horse, Faraine.” He rubs a hand down his perfectly sculpted face. “How’s a man supposed to occupy himself in this dreadful place? I’m about to go blithering mad with boredom!”

“That is neither my concern nor my responsibility. You are being treated well, I trust?”

“Well enough. I won’t sing any praises for troll hospitality. But they feed me. Otherwise they ignore me. I mostly wander about the palace wondering if the statues I’m passing might actually be living trolls. I’m never quite sure. They don’t talk to me in any case.”

“Trolde,” I correct softly.

Theodre continues without pause. “I don’tseemto have an official guard, but I could swear I’m never truly alone or unobserved. If I’m wandering somewhere I’m not supposed to, a big slab of rock-person will suddenly appear in front of me, obliging me to turn round and head back the other way. It’s unsettling.”

My mouth twists, not quite a sympathetic smile. “It won’t be for long. You must only bear it until the king returns.”

“And do you think your husband and his impressive force will be able to rout Ruvaen in a timely manner?”

“I have every faith in Vor.”

Theodre tips his head to one side, peering at me from under his hat’s brim. “Hmmm. Maybe it worked out for the best, then.”

“What? What are you talking about?”

“Father and his little”—he waggles his fingers—“scheme. You don’t seem to be languishing here in your magnificent palace, surrounded by priceless gems at every turn. And that husband of yours cuts a fine figure, doesn’t he?”

I narrow my eyes.

“You seem . . . I don’t know. Happy here?” This last is spoken like a question.

“My feelings have nothing to do with the matter.” The words burst from my lips, sharp as knives. “I was sent here under false pretenses. Vor should not have been manipulated and lied to. Not by our father. Not by you. And not by . . . by . . .” I can’t even speak this last awful truth. Instead, I finish with, “I should not have been so weak.”

“Whoa, sister.” Theodre holds up both hands, backing up several paces. “Don’t spit your venom at me. We were both of us Father’s pawns.” For once his face loses some of its golden shine. “Sometimes I wonder if I even have it in me to be a man. My own man, I mean. Oh, I know how to get under Father’s skin—a little gambling here, a few debts unpaid there. I’m not stupid enough to think such anticsdoanything. Other than reinforce Larongar’s disappointment, that is. Maybe it’s just easier to prove him right than to try and prove him wrong.”

This is unexpectedly insightful coming from my brother. Despite the carefree smile he insists on smearing across his perfectly-formed lips, there’s a glimmer of what might be pain in his eyes. An unwanted surge of compassion rises in me. I chew the inside of my cheek. Am I going to let a few moments of sincerity undo the carefully erected walls between us?

“I must go,” I say abruptly and take several steps back. “I’m meeting someone.”

“Can I come along?” He sounds like a child and knows it. A flush stains his cheeks. “Really, Faraine, I’ve had such a dull time of it! I feel I’ll go mad.”

I shake my head. “This is a private meeting.”

“I won’t be a bother. I’ll hang back like your Captain Hael. In fact, isn’t that an idea? Why shouldn’t I act as another bodyguard? I mean, it makes sense. I am your elder brother. I ought to have some sort of protective role or . . .”

Of everything I’d dreaded concerning my long separation from Vor, the prospect of spending that time with Theodre was not high on my list. There are some torments one cannot imagine until one is plunged into the mire of them.

“Theodre,” I say, my voice as stern as I know how to make it, “let me be plain with you. I do not want you trailing my footsteps. I will not have you interfering with my affairs. And donot”—I emphasize with a vicious jab of one finger against his chest—“bother Hael.”

He gapes down at me. Before he can muster a reply, I turn on heel, gather my skirts, and hasten to the garden, refusing to look back.

Maylin is waiting among the Urzulhar when I arrive.She sits in the center of the circle, cross-legged, her back to me. Her crooked stick lies across her lap, balanced on her knees, and her hands are extended to either side, palms out, as though receiving vibrations from the great stones. She does not move or give any sign of hearing my approach. But she knows I’m here. She always knows. Her power over the stones is so finely-tuned, I suspect she could spy on me in my chambers if she wished. Perhaps she does.

Rather than speak to the witch, I take a seat in the circle behind her, my back to hers. I assume a similar position, crossing my legs and extending my arms, palms out. I am learning to reach the crystals without direct touch, to feel their pulse at all times, even when I am not near them. In truth I’m never truly far fromurzulin this world. It’s embedded in every wall and stone, in the ground underneath me and the cavern ceiling overhead. Tiny flecks, invisible to the eye, have the potential to channel the same power as the great stones if I can only learn to access it.

I reach for those vibrations now. My own crystal pendant lies against my breast, as unresponsive as ever. But the large stones whisper softly to my senses. Not the intense thrum I would feel if I were to make physical contact, but a potent promise of the power within. Power just waiting to be tapped.

“Your brother has turmoil in him.”

I startle, surprised by the sharpness of Maylin’s voice behind me. “Theodre?” My concentration broken, I turn my head slightly. “He won’t be a problem. He’s harmless really.”

The old witch grunts. “His emotions are carefully trained to float at the surface of his being. But the turmoil remains, nonetheless. Deep inside. It could prove dangerous.”

---