Page 41 of Ties of Shadow

The Shade chuckled. “Very well. Bertha will be part of our group now.”

“Oh, so nice.” I replied, barely holding back my sarcasm. Bertha took a tenuous step toward me and sniffed my fingers with cactus-sharp whiskers. “Hello…Bertha.”

A juttering purr erupted from her, cacophonous in the small area, and she butted her whole head into my palm. The greasy sensation on my fingertips made me queasy. But she was indeed kind of…

The Shade finished my thought with a smug sense of satisfaction. “Cute.”

Chapter eighteen

The Way Home

We finished the journey up a steep incline. The light of the tunnel increased as did my pace. I rushed faster and faster, desperate to get back out to the sunlight. I felt a thread of sadness and a tingle by my neck, but I was too anxious to pay it much mind. Bertha paced beside the Shade, pleased by his pats on her head. I was as pleased to ignore her presence as she seemed pleased to ignore mine.

At the cave opening, I rushed out and dove into the warm, tall grasses. Panting in ecstasy and willing the sun to bake itself into my face, I lay, soaking in the rays of the sun.

“That bad, Dayspring?” The Shade leaned against the wall of the cavern, looking too casual.

I wondered for a moment if I should rise and brush myself off, returning to demure decorum, but the heat of the earth was too delicious, so I nestled deeper. “I’ve had worse days.” I smiled back, the sting from that day not quite as sharp.

Bertha stayed in the shadows of the cave, and from here, her skin appeared nearly translucent against her glowing blue eyes. She gazed about with a wince and backed deeper into the darkness.

The Shade pulled out a satchel and a metal scraper. “Shall we?”

Lugging myself upward, I took his offered tool. “Let’s do it.”

Cloudy mossweed covered every inch of the cave’s entrance. Part mossy netting, part long and tangled leaves, several stamens pierced through the mat and bloomed. The billowy, whisper-thin white flower quite resembled its namesake. The wolves took turns resting and standing guard, while Bertha seemed content to stay within the cavern. The Shade and I worked silently for a while, taking patches in squares so the neighboring plants could easily recover the losses we took with us. Whatever we dropped, the racoons were quick to pick up and drop in our bags.

While we worked, I felt a prickle of the Shade’s curiosity. “Dayspring, tell me of your childhood.”

I huffed a laugh. “You haven’t heard enough?”

Too serious eyes found mine. “Never.”

Clearing my throat, I picked a story at random. “When I first came to the castle, I was very nervous. We had been to various events at home—dinners and things—but being so young, I would be dressed up, showed off, and then excused while the adults talked. I remember being so tired, and my shoes were dirty from the dust of the road, but when I got out of the carriage, there was a boy just my age to play with. I hopped out. He sneered.” I laughed. “Leon looked at the king with such annoyance. ‘It’s a girl?’ he said. Well, obviously, I was. I curtsied. He gave the most awkward bow, and then we ran off to the back courtyard to play.

“This lanky, black-haired boy popped out from one of the sheds and scared us both. He laughed and laughed. From then on, during our breaks, Leon and I would always go and find this boy and play. I got in so much trouble with ruined tights, and scuffed palms, and bleeding knees. We climbed trees and fished in the castle ponds.” I tucked in a whole bushel of mossweed, remembering.

“When Leon’s magic first showed up, he sneezed and accidentally caught my skirt on fire! Thankfully, the other boy scooped me up and plopped me down right in the fountain.” I giggled. “I got in trouble, of course, as if it was my fault I was wet, but the whole castle started a three-day celebration. Leon and I ate more sweets than we should and got so sick.” While I talked, the Shade moved slower, and his brows appeared pensive. “After that, I never saw that other boy again.”

I paused, discomfort whirling within me at his silence and stillness. “Well, I’ve told you enough about me. I think it’s your turn.”

“My turn.” His tool halted mid strike.

“It’s only fair.”

“Since when is Death fair and the trapped maiden allowed to make such demands?” he grumbled. I snorted. The sentiment should have rankled under my skin, but I didn’t feel trapped at all. He began hacking at the plant before him. “My childhood isn’t a good one, Dayspring.”

I set my hand on his tightly wound fist. “Please?”

He nodded once, and I released him. He renewed his attack on the mossweed. “My life is marked by lies and fear. My father didn’t want me, and didn’t want my magic to taint his perfect life.”

“How could a father not be proud of his son?”

“He would have been proud of me if I’d had a normal magic or even an especially rare magic like light—anything but what I have. I have good memories of him until I was four. I remember that I once wanted to help stir the soup, but then I dropped the spoon, and Mother wouldn’t let me help anymore—I’m sure it was because she didn’t want me to burn myself, but what was a four-year-old to do? I was so furious, I plunged the whole kitchen into darkness. It was so brief that, at first, everyone thought it was a dark cloud or some weird solar eclipse. But as that prophecy you are so familiar with hadjust been released, any mention of darkness was the mark of doomsday for the kingdom. My tantrum sent him over the edge of reason. I was a black mark on his perfect life.”

The steady hack, hack, hack, of his tool rattled the forest.

“And then…” I prompted gently.

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