Page 24 of Heart of the Shadow King

Madame Ar answers my subsequent series of questions in quick, abrupt sentences, her voice strongly accented by her harsh trolde tongue. As I listen, my heart sinks. I’d gathered there was some strife between Vor and his brother, but I’d felt Sul’s devotion to Vor. It was real and true, a vital part of his spirit. How could he have stooped so low? To try to force his brother to . . . murder me? It would have been far simpler to do the deed himself. There’s something else going on here, something I don’t fully understand. More imponderable mysteries.

But I haven’t the time for any of them. Not now. “I need to see Vor,” I say, pushing to my feet. Immediately the world around me blurs and tips.

“That’s probably not the best idea.” Ar’s voice reaches me through the throbbing in my ears. “You’ve fainted twice in quick succession. You don’t want to make it an unlucky third, now do you?”

But I won’t sit back down. I wait until the floor steadies and my vision clarifies. Then, with brisk thanks to the healer, I hasten across the room as fast as my bare feet will carry me. Many eyes watch me warily from the infirmary beds, wounded survivors from the cave devil attack. I duck my head and hurry on. Vor needs me. I’m sure of it. He’s in pain, and I should be with him. No one stops me as I climb the steps up from the infirmary’s main floor to the exit. The door opens when I tug, and I face the outer passage.

Two stone-headed lances cross in front of me.

I pause, staring at those razor-sharp blades. Slowly, I lift my gaze to the faces of the trolde guards, one on either side of the door. “Vor set you to watch me, didn’t he.”

They exchange silent glances.

“I will go to the king,” I persist. “I will not be held prisoner.” With that, I grip the crossed lances and pull. There’s no chance my feeble strength will do any good against those powerful trolde grips. But the guards share another long, silent look. Then, to my surprise and relief, they straighten their lances, back away, and allow me to step past them into the shadowy passage.

Panting a little, I stride on briskly for several paces before my footsteps falter, stop. Where is Vor? Even now facing his brother? My hand almost unconsciously moves to grip my crystal, seeking comfort and possibly guidance. But it is silent in my grasp. I close my eyes, bow my head, concentrate. My gods-gift is not gone—I have proven that. It’s different than it was, but it’s still part of me. And I’ve connected with Vor before. When we made love, it was as though we shared one heart, one soul, one feeling between us. Surely a connection like that cannot be wholly erased?

There. I feel . . . something. A faint pull, drawing me inexorably.

“I know where he is,” I whisper.

Gripping the silvery skirts of my trolde gown with both hands, I hasten down the passage, the two guards falling into silent step behind me.

The gardens show many signs of the cave devil attack and the stirring which preceded it. Many of the larger stone formations which once awed me with their beauty are now cracked and crumbled. At least the mothcats don’t seem to have been harmed by the assault. They swarm in the same numbers as before, their eyeless faces and large, pricked ears a welcome sight. One of the little beasts springs to my shoulder, purring as it rubs its furry cheek against mine and nibbles at my hair. Something about the resonance of its purr feels familiar.

“You held onto me, didn’t you?” I whisper as I stroke its head. “When I died, you kept me from slipping away. Until Vor could reach me.”

As though in answer, the creature whips its tail under my nose before springing from my shoulder. It dances among the crystals as I progress up the path. The other mothcats maintain more distance, wary of the two guards following some distance behind me. But my little friend scampers on ahead, almost as though it knows where I’m going.

I try not to let my attention turn to the Urzulhar Circle, which stands on its promontory, dominating the view. I do not want to look at it. I do not want to feel again the draw I once felt, or to remember the power which had ripped through my body and bones when I stood in its center. There will be time enough later to consider such things. For now, Vor needs me.

I find him just where I expected, on the shores ofHirith Borbatha,the Lake of a Thousand Lights. His back is to me. He stands with his hands clasped, gazing out across the steaming waters to the falls cascading down the craggy cliffs on the far side. Living crystals cast a whole rainbow of color through the falling water, dancing and dazzling in thedimnessgloom. But Vor does not look like a man admiring the view. Though his shoulders are straight, there’s something defeated in his stance.

I pause, his name frozen on my lips. Whatever happened between him and his brother, I am the cause. Will he welcome me now? When I make my presence known, will he turn to me with love or accusation in his eyes?

It doesn’t matter. He needs me. That is all I know for certain. But it is enough.

I turn, glaring back at the two guards. “Go,” I say, and motion with my hand. “Go back. Give us privacy.”

Another silent exchange of glances. Then the female guard shrugs and nods to her fellow. He raises a stony brow but turns with her and clomps down the path. No doubt they will take up a defensive position below, making certain no one disturbs their king and his strange little bride.

Drawing a deep, steadying breath, I face the lake and the intimidating figure of my husband. I make no effort to disguise my footsteps as I approach. He doesn’t turn, but I can tell the instant he becomes aware of me. Something about the set of his shoulders shifts. I continue until I stand beside him on the shore of the lake. Water washes over my bare feet, warm and welcoming. Vor says nothing. He does not look at me, and I do not look at him. I wait, watching those magnificent falls. Offering him my presence.

“You should not be here,” Vor rumbles at last.

I close my eyes. “I’m exactly where I’m meant to be.”

He turns to me at last, his massive figure shifting. He’s so great, so mighty, the very magnetism of his being pulls me to him. I cannot help myself, cannot resist lifting my eyes to his. There are tears on his face, but they do nothing to lessen the power inherent in every chiseled line. “Do you know?” he asks.

I nod.

He curses in troldish and lowers his head, unable to hold my gaze. “It’s my fault. I knew it was him. After the first poisoning, I knew. But I had no proof and . . . I simply did not want it to be. I wanted to make the world according to my own wishes. A world in which my brother was true.”

I reach out, take his hand. In the instant our palms connect, his feeling floods through me, a complex maelstrom of guilt and sorrow and anger and fear. It hits me hard, and I cannot help the gasp that escapes my lips.

“No!” Immediately Vor retreats, wrenching his hand from mine. “I’m hurting you. Your gift—”

I take a lunging step and catch his hand again. “Share this with me, Vor. Please.”

---